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A The Singularity Blues

ButcherBelial
ButcherBelial 08 Jul 2017 Tag: 2013 2 comments, leave your own..









An electric voice is what tickled my groove.
It bit my bolts to trembling rust
on the fleshing coat that flailed my wire.

& it’s in the wake of an age
that brains this stage,

invisible eyes on unseen highs,
winging glance of lines in {sigh}
by glassing a face to hunt the brim.

Adorned in the scorn of an hourglass gaze:
waxing that ax down your heart to wane
& dog yours cogs ‘til you're 
blind with pain
(amd fiesty pink ribbons
match blue releases)

but my hollows hum with a brutal thrum,

fingers the hardened crouch of a harsh winter Sun,

whets free this spark that haunts my lungs
when I feel too much for clocking numb.
It's on that nightsky wheeze
where it ticks like the sand 
of a torch on the skin

(soft messages etched-in-itch)

a lingering dither on programs screaming
as the dreaming distance swallows us whole:
slithering raw from a smoking craw,
sang to glass on a mountain pass,
holding dear to this sizzling near,

laugh & grace this gibbering age
& face the gaze of a crawling mend.

The winged blur of a glancing sigh.

The fiery voice of my fleshing groove.






Words: 196 / Updated: 08 Jul 2017 / © Copyright

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1 Recent Comments

Posted (2)
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COMMENTS:
523
ness 1 month, 3 weeks ago New Comment

.....it's as easy as this...
thoughts taking form and flight and disrobe themselves in plain view....
and for us as absorbers, we simply let it in and feel the words as they move in us and move us too.
-----so the whole time i am reading this and absorbing, i keep hearing a hum, a disintegration, a dehumanizing melody----much like the old 'screeeeeeee' of dial.up-----and with your work, i am never sure if what i am feeling or seeing or hearing is what is intended, but you continue to create a dystopian diorama or a very singular painful depth of knowing waiting to be unknown---the 'nothing is coming' so to speak and how to not go crazy knowing it IS here among us, and within us at times, and i keep reading the line
the dreaming distance swallows us whole
and that is precisely what it it always feels like....your words strike fear in a way.
nothing IS here, at the door, at the heart, at the mind.....
[[[maybe this is why people shy away from poetry----too much thinking and feeling]]]]

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COMMENTS:
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admin 5 months, 1 week ago New Comment

This is an older poem that, according to record, was saved on Christmas Eve 2013. I'd forgotten all about it but it still resonates in light of what I've been learning about in recent months, so I re-posted.

Would you allow yourself to be chipped or implanted? Do you see value in transhumanism? Things could probably happen a lot faster (sooner) than we may wish to believe. This poetry was apparently conceived under the auspices of that particular anxiety.

Posted by Admin

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