Sunday, January 22, 2017

The Ninth Tentacle

COMRADES,

I am with you 1000% in your assessment 
That we are in the clutches of a sociopath
Who's more interested in comparing
Inauguration-size

Than establishing a healthy bond w/ Intelligence

This isn't just scary, it's not just odd or offbeat or Trump being Trump and that's why we like him

This is pure ignorance. Pure jingoistic juvenility, and I'm not just being alliterative because it makes me jolly. I really mean that.

His XTREME-of-consciousness makes my poetic streams look like dry riverbeds of legalese. In other words, my poetry would make for more presidential commentary than what was said yesterday at the CIA.

I am embarrassed by this. I am embarrassed for us. This is not cute, people. I would love to find humor in it but I just can't this time.




I am terrified of the masters behind this creepy clown-puppet. And of the hate that has bared its teeth on the internet & on the walls of the mosques & temples & soon perhaps biting into our own skins.

We watched footage from the Women's March on FB live before going out to SRQ's own march. The one person who really got through to me and made me feel like nothing regressive was going to happen on her watch:

Sen. TAMMY DUCKWORTH D-IL

Look her up if you missed her very short speech at the March. As a disabled Asian-American combat veteran, she has so much intersectional cred she might as well be God right now.

If things start going eggy, she is the person I will reach for. I will google her name if I'm feeling hopeless. I will write her a letter if I'm afraid. I will stalk her at her home & end up in jail if that's what I need to do. But I've chosen her as my person-in-power to hitch my wagon to.
(lovely schizoid metaphor going on here ^^^)

And hey COMRADES, especially you anti-Trump libtards (aka my people),

Please remember to go high. Don't jerk your knees so hard they come back to fracture your larynx. Think it through before you start smashing windows or plotting assassinations. The alt-right conspiracy theorists are already projecting a neo-liberal feminazi assassin…

…well, heh heh, I'm not going to tell you not to do it, but just…think it through…


[Speaking of alt-right nazis pretending to be good ol Johnny Appleseed rootsy folksy shucksy mankind is my mission I can save you all cuz I saved myself from the flames & my sizzling synapses hold all the answers Spreading the…not love, but TRUTH! TRUTH, that harsh tough gristly gift that's so different for each one of us! 

I like everyone, but all my black friends live in Africa where they belong, see?? 

Speaking of them and their lonely white dicks, and their fear of the pussyhat, and their hatred of what they can't own as property--Tthey are still here, living among us. 

Those guys who hate that my femininity went rogue on their exclusive chemical cocktail! The fear that they may give me a Very Good, Sir when I deserve only a Nice <3 i="">

Where Sir = bro, I am the weird zero, and you are the hypocrites addicted to your own mathless myth]

All right. I am a poet so I'm allowed to be all cryptic and mystical and kind of you know um…quirky solopsistic navel-picking shoe-gazing cherry-lickking jack-offative narcissist. But not our President, not our fearless communicator our impartial father figure our big old Uncle Grandpa Mohommed cartoon conjugal Jesus visitor! Not him! Oh please, not Him!!!



*******************

All right, again. I started doing my daily stream-of-consciousnesses

I really need them now…to get my brain farting again

Stabbed in another dimension! A hallway in my heart I never knew I had. Ever dreamt you found a room in your house that wasn't there before? You peek your head in--"Is this real?"--and the room goes from closet to attic to mezzanine to subconscious palace. But you can't make yourself enter--"Here it is inside my house but is it mine?" The property of dreams unrecorded on the table of elements. Ever dreamed you've grown new body parts? A limb, a genital, a slit in your side that vents when you start to feel fear? In my dreams my body always belongs to me for it's not property. We've grown a new president, a ninth tentacle. I no longer recognize this octopus I've analyzed for ages. We've grown apart, as legal aliens often do. Another midnight master who wakes a sunrise student, bereft of the lessons in a wet cartoon.  1-21-17 



**************


AND HEY COMRADES! I hope you enjoy this crappy art--The Pre-Inaugural Nerve Doodles. I am out of practice. Obviously.


No comments:

Post a Comment