It’s been awhile since I’ve posted some poems, so here’s some goddamn poems! These are three samples of a collection I’ve been slowly compiling. To be honest, I don’t know exactly what I’m going for here. As of now, I’m taking random pieces of imagery and morphing them into full-on LSD freak-outs. There’s a bit of a threesome between science, humor and drug culture happening here. To be honest, I haven’t made full sense of what the fuck I’m going for. At the least, I hope they’re entertaining. I’m just kind of writing whatever the hell I feel. Title still pending…
Black Light Poster of Two Robots Fucking: Electric Purple
1
Fuck, an unfortunate turn on this trip
Psilocybin sublimation forms a particular tracer
Electric purple string of fog protrudes from my throat
It enters one particular black light poster out of the many
Resuscitates the mechanics and inflames the dimensions,
connects the imaginary electrodes of life by a disembodied wire
My eyeballs twist into points, aimed at the fluorescence
My body melts into phosphorescence as I gaze at it
The poster is alive and moving
Terminator porn in 3D
2
Sex between the borgs
It’s like terrible grinding metal sneers
Titanium bodies with all sharp corners
Shifting plates of crude industrial design
The sparks of scratching bolts spread the purple fire throughout the room
They plant the tiny blinking lights of robot babies
Some are in my mouth, some in my scalp
Most of them like stars of some indoor galactic cloud
Now I’m surely lost in space as a dysfunctional probe
An undervalued member of the robot threesome
Drifting flesh amidst the technological wanking
A blob among precise lasers
3
Panic due to solipsism
Everything but me is not real
Hallucinogenic reality – blasts of cold color
Black light tube is a trepan, paralyzes
No instauration possible
The contrails of enlightenment vaporized
The scriptures of sanity are psychobabble
Just electricity in a gobbet in endless Sisyphean cycle
Torn into spiritual void
Torn into violet de profundis
Sack of trash in the intergalactic unknown
Non
Alien Butt-Probing at Computer Carnival of 2051
Phase 1:
Upside down cardboard boxes, placed equal distance on orange shag carpet
Have concentric squares marked in black on each side, shrinking into infinity
The boxes are equally centered in our marijuana circle
Phase 2:
We each take a toke in a uniform motion
So our minds uniformly enter – yet individually separate
into the cyber-voids on each box side
We fall into them square after square at identical speed
Phase 3:
The nanoseconds slow as I approach
Then time stops at the base of the gravitational well
In the court of the computer carnival, I orbit many one-story satellite chips
They rotate on their robotic lazy susans
Phase 4:
With frame-dragging torque I’m pulled onto the circuit board
Crushed pistachio green copper lines arranged like a maze of streets
that lead to the main hall of rapidly expanding cyberverse
Phase 5:
I never manage to reach apex
On my way, I’m ambushed by an irregularity
I’m bent over, force fed a suppository
Butt cheeks jam-packed with a nuclear chemical reaction from a tube
that’s bolted to a steampunk robot tank
Phase 6:
Half way through the heinous act,
I retreat up into the concentric square sky, still attached to dangling apparatus
I morph through the threshold, back to home base
Out of the box and on the orange shag carpet again
Phase 7:
All the others are laughing at me
As the drug fades, the joke is made clear
In the middle of a mess of cardboard boxes,
among the zipping sounds of zippers being zipped behind me,
my asshole is the sorest that it’s ever been
You’re Never Going to Beat the Level 8 Boss, So Forget It
No cheat code, Epsilon
This is an impenetrable gigabyte city of Mega Blok pixel bricks
With enemies numerous like rainfall
Decagon sleet of multi-colored lights drains your energy
As you trudge through it at an inch and a quarter thick
Your depleting strength bar is painless
Your willpower is unscarred, however hopeless the chances
Just endure the laser soma blasts
Just ignore the 8 bit gunfire against your chest
It’s killing you, but there’s no blood
No reason to feel like you’re losing
Approach Crystal Castle headquarters
Conceal the secret weapon until the right time
When the pre-boss level is reached,
when those L-shaped Tetris guns mounted on every ledge point at you,
then boost up the last of your power
Only sacrifice will win the war
The time clock is running out
I hope to hell you’ve got enough energy
Make this last running jump-and-stomp count
I hope you squash the boss man under your boots
Because even if you leave most of the others dead,
even if the infrastructure collapses
The final high score doesn’t count if the monster remains alive at Game Over
Featured image by Tiger11th via FreeDigitalPhotos.net.
