All posts in society & beliefs

sightseeing

To know prison is to know a world too small to hold love’s absence. // Kelly Rose Pflug-Back, For T

prison is a stillborn
two small grey hands, fists
that’ll never move nor open

i have known many hands
too small to hold love’s absence
 
 
and there is a difference
between the absence that makes
the child reach out and cry

and the absence that is
long accepted
 
 
wail and be moved all you want
i know a great many places filled
with a great many men still

and some walk the halls
taking pride in this

thirty-four men per box built for two

all of them efficiently quiet
as the sounds of your rages and of your open hands
coming together in prayer walk the halls loudly, loved

ready to die (all I want is bitches, big-booty bitches)

I skunk fly through pussy heavily
nights and cities I don’t care to remember
looking for trouble I can grasp but barely handle

all I want is trouble, I’m knee-deep in

something Hispanic, Mediterranean, ebony
French— Pepé Le Pew, je vis pour le funk
hardcore, je mourrai pour le funk

How To Judge The Quality And Worth Of Poetry

In his essay The Poet and These TimesHugo von Hofmannsthal said about the poet: “It is as if his eyes had no lids.”

This is the only means by which I judge the quality of a poem, the only constant—if I am made to feel that way about the poet (all other qualifiers seem to be fickle and superfluous). However numerous and creative the patterns, the qualities of the materials, or the opinions of the times, Art will forever be a see-through dress.

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