Hello Friends,
Oh my god I have a lingering case of techno rage & can't concentrate on work so I'm going to share, as promised, an EPIC POEM written in 2011.
This poem was supposed to be my attempt at a modern day 'HOWL.' It's an abject travesty of that. But it is still an enjoyable poem. It is 10 pages long, but it's skinny. Please try to have an attention span & finish the whole thing.
***Brief T Update*****
SO, it's my 7th month on T. Physically I feel strong & energetic & horny. I love the few, subtle changes I've undergone so far. I do wish this was going faster though. I look in the mirror & get very dysphoric about how fat & feminine I still am.
I'm having to fight the urge to return to disordered eating. I know it's an odd & terrible urge for someone of my age. It's gross & it's such a vain white Wasp-y way of thinking. But I am nothing if not the programmed robot of two WASP-y fat-phobic misogynist… robots.
Aren't I so brave for being honest? I'll let you know how it goes.
********************************
A LONG-ASS EPIC POEM IN THE STYLE OF AG THAT WILL SERIOUSLY COMPROMISE YOUR ATTENTION SPAN
He compared me to his mother
Doomed at forty, lost to her chaos
Doomed by medicine & steroids
Doomed by Hitler's echo & God's choices
All the things that terrorize us now
In her paranoid prophecy
Smile, for you are not doomed
No matter the phase of moon,
You have already won
Smile @ the same time every day
Because the universe watches
Like God & Hitler & the FBI
The universe has its eye on you
And knows your routine.
So in your spaceship life,
If you are a zombie at fifty
A rebel @ sixty
An assassin @ ninety
You can't let your day end gravity
Lure you below the stars
Where blackhole's latent skeletons
Light up every few years
You can't give up on ghosts of joy
Magic things like music will remain
As sparkles in the synaptic forge
Powerful words leave a breadcrumb trail
When you reach your next doomed decade
They'll whisper you to the exit
****
I'm the second or third generation of
Unwanted short-sighted predestined mediocrity
Wasted flesh, crooked spine, cramped skull
And most tragically, the compromised heart
At the center of the shitstorm
Looking like a guilty strawberry,
An octopus w/ thorns.
We grow like weeds, we bloom like healthy roses
In the sun,
But in the shade of our chromosome garden,
We spew poison from secret stems
In our dream houses
We draw pisttols & patent the very hate,
The passive-aggressive moment
That brings the gun to life,
That brings death upon the crowd
Every few minutes in America.
We are programmed to do this.
Believing it is good.
Wanting so badly for our babies
To have better guns than we had,
For them to be better guns than we ever were!
Zigzagger through generations
Exaggerated in a microscope of loathing
The mothers & sons of denial
The fathers & daughters of rage
Kicking over shelves of evidence
The emotional biographies
Of parents, grandparents, robot librarians.
The non-fiction that guided me
Along thin icy rails
No magical forest clearings
Or romantic dancefloors...
Here is the platform
The rollercoaster will arrive
And you will be forced to ride
Even though your spine is crushed.
Over & over, the refrain of machine gun history
Tells her secrets, tells mine & his & theirs,
But hers are where we begin
A form inside an eggshell matrix
If she played her cards wrong,
My synapses got the blame
The robot in the rain, blinded by
Self-preservation
Assumed I was 'Ignu', or 'Humanitor'
(she was programmed)
In the sixth house,
I memorized her hand
Jack-off Hearts & Asshole of Diamonds
The biggest loss, though,
The 5 of us Kids
Love never reshuffled
To withstand the next generation.
[You say 'Ignu' and I say 'Humanitor']
And we say the same thing
The shelf full of prescriptions
Kicked down into hearts & veins
Holding families together w/ dextrose skin
Families on fire
W/ an elephant snout to hose them down
And the elephant remains deaf blind invisible
The elephant cries, "i'm not to blame!"
The flaming family replies, "You're insane."
Now here comes that little robot girl
She responds to praise & commands
Coming from afar, distant academies
Perceptions of love sex happiness,
Informed by strict hot wires
She skates gracefully through the marketplace
And knows how to replicate herself
A sweet little robot to hide behind
While she studies this buried hate &
Plots the doom of her creators
Her replication took a wrong turn
And she brought to life a sentient elf
****
You were born deadmeat
A pink pepperoni infant
Detained by chromosomes, foreign rights
Read silently by karma police
And before you could sing your
First anthem of protest
Robot-lady stole your vocal cords
Safe keeping in her throat
Destroyed by fire upstate New York
Always list the location of your echo,
Your generational footprint.
Transposing the letters to craft
Operatic mistakes, big erroneous typos
About your very own history
Egotistical trips through dark hallways,
Apostrophes in all the wrong places
Hunched before a posse'
When there's only one assassin
And she's standing at your window
Breathtaking view of history, hers & mine
The shallow dish where our DNA met
I remember the womb like a familiar tavern,
A place where I did a slow dance w/ speed
Because, you see...
I'm the abortion that speaks from the grave
The biohazard bin in your global clinic
I speak through the canula that sucks me away
Good bye to the matrix
Lose your alcoholic future drag-king miracle
Your precious little molestor of tomorrow
I robbed your house in 1985!!!
I am a formless blob
Asked to complete the tasks of a god!
The sweet lips of a robot
Kissed me at night
The drunk lips of Humanitor,
I breathed in their vapors
Did she ever kiss her mother's drunk lips?
I kissed her Busch Bavarian
Aluminum beer can &
Blew smoke rings on her lap &
Loved it!
No robots aloud. Abortions only.
If she is the robot & I'm the abortion
Grandmother was a giant spider
Dusting her own angel figurine
OCD spinning, looming &
Threatening to upset the banana box
Grandfather an octopus...what the fuck else
Would he be.....?
I found YOU in the FSU library
6 or 7 magic floors of knowledge
Where I used to escape sorority stares,
Fraternity gazes
The deadly library silence
Reeking of stale forest
A slight fairy decomp & mushroom spontaneity
No one was interested in being near the poetry,
Except me.
Robot abortion Tallahassee lassie 18.
I found you there & I saw
You had all the same favorite words as me
You were Whitman, as you remember him
Activating my new mind
You were Shelley as an Iraqi vet
Vietnam west fighting right now
To give me something to recount
You were telling the truth in the most
Beautiful senseless catastrophic even-toned way
And from that day called Mar14 '87
I promised to be a robotabortion
Of prophetic words,
Like you instructed me to be.
****
In your cyber-gothic home
Where you were the only victim
I saw invisible 'round the corner
Your circuits burning
Your motherboard giving off little puffs of smoke
Not rings, but mini dynamite plumes
Those were your emotions coming thru
The only ones I ever saw in your crystalline visage
Those were the tears you cried w/
Tiny bleeps of sorrow or bitchiness
In your manmade retina,
You couldn't quite receive the data
The visual drama
That was my undoing
Relating abuse to authorities
To the ramparts o'er which we watched
To the red rockets' FAIL
I won't reveal your name, your age,
Your sexless religion
I don't want to see your face in court
Grandmother's spider eyes shine through
Genetic insect/robot tissue
****
No one's retina knows
What another man's retina knows
Period.
Don't spread your emotional disease
This goes for women, children, amputees
Your retinas may attend the gala,
The same optic venue reported back to the lens
But the travels into temporal lounges,
Cerebral backrooms, and frontal warehouses
All prismatic interpretations fly
Inward like Humanitor's wandering
Separate at this juncture,
For love will rarely translate
From the eyeball checkpoint
The headlines that most offend
Nowadays our planetary bitch gang-raped
And the billion-headed witness saw nothing
On chloroform & everyone busy w/ billiards
Pretending not to see.
Another robotic memory--
How I panicked I was going crazy
Mistaking bad depression for onset schizophrenia
I was ready, though
Ready to give in to the screaming
My heart wanted to be on the floor
A raw beating baby heart,
Aborted with the rest of the giblets
Words so transformative
I thought they could tell me to lose it
If I read them 3x over,
Then listen to R.E.M.
Adam Ant was the antidote
A prescription to kick off the shelf
Pills spillt all over the floor
Like my heartblood
All sopped up w/ carpet, a human thing...
I threw away the book they
Made when I was born
A scrapbook of their early adventures
With their guinea piglet
You told me to do it.
They didn't get it.
She was a robot who couldn't shit & he was a frat boy w/ eyes.
I have his eyes.
His retinas.
No spidervision,
Processed octopus-meat conceived
Terrorist guilt
None o' that behind these eyes
This lizard brain on loan
From a corrupt insurance firm.
Tell the location?
Never.
I have her throat, or she has mine
A joyless voice box that seeks
Revenge when next door's tools
Grind away my sleep...
An abortion's regret is neverending
(Look at all the togetherness & structure
We could've enjoyed)
Do parents matter, really?
Do their nerve strings hang us w/ purpose
Do they have renewed sexual urges
Butterfly ramblings decoded
In genealogical order
Simply by flicking your emotional switch
Which, like the G-spot, doesn't really exist
Can females string words together like beads?
Can they understand the equations that stitch the universe
Into its rightful patterns?
Can they have the same amount of fun
On an earth that doesn't love them?
Can they pray to a God
That purposely made them inferior?
I used to wonder if intelligence
Was truly in direct proportion
To anatomy nowhere near the brain,
I had a strong belief
That female happiness was just oblivion,
A slate wiped clean
And male happiness was the yardstick of bliss
Those were the breadcrumbs
That spilled from the platter of truth
Always the aborted youth
Remains years & years behind his peers
I know the hormone juice that squirts emphatically
Through closed endocrine corridors
Only leaking out when life & death are ultimata--
Swim for the big oval prize,
Or detatch from the matrix &
Bleed sadly on products,
Made especially for monthly death?
360 cycles of loss,
An exorbitant amount of blood
Shed in the name of Humanitor,
Or 'Ignu', my favorite new word for you,
Y'all.
Most of you are not abortions.
Or robots. Some of you are.
But most of you are not.
Just Ignu. Humanitor.
Put here to enjoy! Fuck up!
Laugh! Fall in love! Get drunk!
Make babies! Fuck up more!
Work Play Drink Sleep Chores Die.
That's you & your complexity.
Your calendar.
Your agenda.
You don't realize how easily
You can lose your humanity
Become an octopus of guilt,
A robot of pain & denial
A spider of fractured vision
Or a walking talking abortion
Do you realize the paper-thin divide
Between you & I?
That six-lane freeway
Is a tiny balance beam in eternity,
Assured of your vertigo
In a busy, exciting galaxy like America
There are no floor mats. No cushions or springs.
Motion sickness plunge into a toilet bowl,
Black hole plumbing out your personal space.
Prophetic owl replaced
By spiders in her nest
A second generation of owls mechanized
To shred flesh from afar--
A strong beak w/ an urgent song
Generation three came to be
On a hateful breeze
Sperm floating, slow motion across the room
So deliberate & exclusive
No girls allowed
But androgen insensitive (or hooked onto speed?)
She broke all the nuclear rules,
Shattered the family egg
Disgraced DNA pushed all the elevator buttons
And sent it through the roof!
A place so aloof,
So close to the eye of the universe
No secret garden could grow up there
No dream house in the glare
The octopus in the manslaughter sky
His suction cups palming coins, playing cards
And silencing neon pink screams.
2* 26*11
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