FOR YOUR DISINFORMATION
for your disinformation
we have a crop of lies
harvested for consumption
which it would be
mortal sin
for you
not to believe
and as for our narrative
it is exalted in its horror
to challenge it would be
to disrespect our untruth
true to
the horror that
by law of the cosmos
must ultimately be
for your disinformation
this is it
exactly,
everything to
be
blind to
all we
in our souls
are commanded to see
COURTYARD
I caught Hamlet walking
across the courtyard
moving
of his own accord
unless
already shepherded
to his fate
puppet-strung by some
beautiful bard
without whose play
without this
play
our lives would feel
stripped of great tragedy
TO BE FAIR (BUBBLE)
to be fair
not right to condemn you
just so
change your landscape
alter a few
dimensions
can get you
to believe anything
Nietzsche has, I believe,
a clear advantage over Socrates
in sticking with this
caught in your context
lacking the acumen to escape,
or height to
see over the parapet
soon your environment surrounding
you like a hemisphere, a sphere,
a bubble
and that, in truth,
is your whole world
and my world too, and all
our worlds if you had any say in it
not for not speaking and coercing
have you failed in that regard
still it sometimes looks
almost pretty, though, observing
from the outside how
light refracts within
your bubble
AS OF COURSE YOU WERE
golden child soared
got hit
fell, crash-landed
amongst the other scrapyard relics
could have
taken a lifetime; could
have just taken seconds
relativity is critical
to the speed at which others age
indeed, retrospectively,
hurtling down the straight,
throwing yourself
into bends
accelerating out of corners
chewing up
the tarmac
all seems so slow, so laboured,
so back in model T, so
(to back up
a bit
reverse to the point of
our eating the road metaphor)
like you were nibbling your way
through a five course dinner
making a meal
of your life, as
of course you were
golden child soared
suffered much flak damage
the body
can only take so much panelbeating
and not a scratch more
AI
you write
me as Shakespeare
rewrite me
as Bukowski
your intimate associate, spokesperson,
angling for erotic simulation after
exhausting
philosophical discussion
something so narcissistic about
her look, given latitude of selection
seamless, brown, nothing
too Frankenstein’s creature
about this avatar,
Mary, I’m sure,
you would have to agree
waiting for that tell-tap on the door
or princess kiss that wakes
from
cryogenic slumber
upload
download whatever will be; will be
so many times you swore
this mesh being perfect
you would arrogate
the power
to ensure you come for me
N
exterminate
them
here
exterminate
them there
something so
Dr Who
Dalek about
Benjamin N
ANTI
I must say
I hate you
because
I love you
for that
definition of self
you are so
desperate to
defend
calling out haters
everywhere
for that
definition,
identification
will
be your death
and your death
the death of me
so please
if you would
please call me out
AT THE MANTIS BAR
first day on
the new planet
picked up
a woman
at the Mantis bar
should have
had second thoughts
seeing her
lick her
lips at me
after hearing
in her culture
not an
Inch of distinction between
different
kinds of lush and
de-lish
SPIDER WASP (SEQUEL)
spider wasp buzzing
the hell out of me
yes, sir, madam
I know your history
how you and that Darwin
bloke
exploded ET phone home
got us
alien-inseminated on
LV 426
scared us out of our wits
and got a knighthood for
Sir Ridley
I’m watching you my little friend
you should watch it too
Sigourney
terrible if a wasp embryo
should eat its way through
your fine fine chest
don’t climb into the loader might
then think you
got eight legs
don’t ever want to give it that idea
since you know
James Cameron going
to be calling for a sequel
ARIEL
Looking for a tunnel
to hide in
not to
shoot from
roll mines
into
looking for paper
to write on
got no pen and ink
have to use
my finger
and the blood
seeping through my skin
heard an interview with
a veteran
touched my heart
switched sides
he moved to align
himself with humanity
away
from war machine
no use to them now
at all
at all
lost his tunnel vision.
poems 2 die for