All posts in society & beliefs

tourists

Rwanda Genocide

The strangers in the woods must mimic squirrels and crackle with the undergrowth. They must not flinch at the cruelty of breaking golden leaves with their feet, or of interring stones. // Rigoberto Gonzáles, The Strangers Who Find Me in the Woods

we follow Moirai down as she points
at the homes of the unturned stones

                                               there
                            and there
and once there

we are as graceless as sinking pigs
but a sight less cruel somehow
breaking leaves
                             spouse and spouse
child and child
                            (there and there
and once there)

archeologists will discover a paradise
in the place no touch died of neglect

bad reception

The Benefit Of Singularity To Man

What’s the benefit of an all-powerful immortal genius? The benefits are all-around infinite. But it depends, from its point-of-view are we more trouble than we’re worth?

I personally welcome the singularity with open arms because I equate greater-than-human-intelligence with wisdom and compassion.

The whole The Matrix scenario is based on the false premise that technology would be as cruel/ stupid/ thoughtless/ self-centered/ dopamine seeking as homo sapiens. Doesn’t greater than human intelligence equate with wisdom and doesn’t that equate with active preservation of those less capable and good? Isn’t The Matrix really just an overdressed simple-minded distrust of other homo sapiens with power? It presumes that anything else that’s intelligent and in a position of power will, as most humans have done, turn to enslavement and cruelty. I doubt the singularity would fashion itself in the likeness of Man, I don’t see how that would in any way be intelligent/wise.

If the singularity ever arrives the biggest Continue Reading →

Why Do People Enjoy Reading Poetry? I Don’t.

I see this as you stating the same thing many great poets eventually do with a sigh when all they see around them are people in love with how well they can masturbate through words (“Look at how nude they are, how sexy, how shocking, how they allude to nature, to the heart, the good, the dark, the esoteric. Look! Look!! Look how I cry!!!”).

Why do people enjoy thisI want to read poems that move like wrecking balls. And that transform me into the building they long to touch. // Tomás Q. Morín

Good poetry is the difference between just having sex and making love. It is making love; it’s old news and the odds are against you before the very act and yet you participate. And you participate with an open-heart because you know that you’ll never reach that sweet release all emotionally closed up like that (this is old news). It holds yet destroys you completely, and it’s drawn-out yet over too quickly. It’s Continue Reading →

slow dancing in a burning room

you’ll forever be judged by the doors through which you’ve entered this hell
rejoice rejoice you’re fucked! rejoice as the doors close. step forward

ruin your fucking self

dreams of a daughter

i remember telling you the world was round
i remember your eyes

and you

you telling me “daddy, no
no, it’s whole— we’re the heartache”

and i held you close

and i held you close
my shrine! my shrine!

eternal summer

the kids know, in summer
there’s no such thing as monday
only eternity


tomorrow never comes
until it’s too late

Why I’m A Feminist

I’m a feminist, but privately I like identifying with my own label of “sane.”

I refuse to backtrack to society’s insane version of things when the ideas that race and gender are different but equal were born with me, within me. I think ‘the adults’ have set the bar far lower than my childish mind. I refuse to first step backwards then forwards and label that as having gained ground (maybe I’m being too rational). Those for inequality should have to identify themselves as being against than the norm, not I (maybe I’m being too irrational).

I don’t like the connotation of feminism as pro-women. There are a lot of women, I’m not for all of them; as is true for men, there are a lot of horrible ones (some Continue Reading →

Go, go, go, said the bird: human kind
cannot bear very much reality. // T.S. Eliot, The Four Quartets

there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out
there is no way out

dear chicken museum

“there are bones in here”
what cunningness

making me mistake curated candidness
longevity
and a thing with bones
for something there

you’re not
but a glorified boneyard
speaking of all battles lost

telling a sad true tale
with a childlike gap-toothed smile as face
and my earning in pocket

i take it back
you’re a glorified candy stand

i want something more than the white-stuck red lollipop
i’d like it back
in fact from now on

i won’t ever hand it over
i’ll create and end
here

i’ll build worthless sandcastles sexually stacked
and when hurried rain-tide footfalls come in
at most i’ll have a burial by sea

not this great sweet cavitied sham of a thing
 
 
 
the best thing that’ll ever happen to the library is the fire
then the rain
mona lisa’s smile begs to be set ablaze
 
 
 
i take it back
you’re a glorified house of firecrackers

with unlit bone-filled things walking the halls
cowards at self-enlightenment

the best thing that ever happened to you was the field-trip
the gap-toothed child with the freshly red smile
the red crayon running before your guards could stop her extrospective self-defacement

i take it back
you’re a gloried self-hatred
the moment she saw you she knew

our greatest art
had not yet defeated her