Sunday, December 06, 2015

Dead things always seem vaguely preoccupied, which is to say happy.

As Nietzsche, Mary Shelley, et al predicted, our failure is of acquiescence to insatiability:
To be loved.
To be happy.
To be entertained.
To die old, ugly, yet comfortable in fake knees, hips and dick pumps.
We are the conscious, self serving failure of evolution.
The de-evolving tech/growth cyclone running every well dry.
Murder of body/soul our only means of revenge;
our one harkening to true, invincible death.

Sunday, July 19, 2015

A pirate sea

I still see your face, but all the color is gone.
They took your heart, to feel you breathe.

A world we love, so lonely, so strong.
But I never saw a ship pass the waves.

Dead things abide a brighter color for the fall.
A pirate sea where gold belongs.


Saturday, April 11, 2015

Sorry I recognized you at the meeting…

Pretty woman lined up for kissing booth says ‘hello’ to old man, bent, pulling weeds.
Old man spins unexpectedly into strawberry-donut-Nietzsche fantasy, complete with worshipful (retrospectively offensive?) aphorisms to the type (But, wait, that’s objectification, Mr. Farrah-Fawcett-poster-boy-from-when-cool-girls-died-first-in-horror-movies…).
So woman counters editorially.
Then man defends editorially.
The End

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

A Steady Hissing Sound...

Terrorism apparently couldn't do it.
Thus, it remained impossible to symbolize the impotence of the perma-collapse (99%), unnatural law State, until now...