Interstate Studs
Interstate Studs
Pandemic Dream Theater
Or perhaps you find yourself in what appears to be North Korea, where jets drop deafening bombs on the mountainside, which shoot up tall geysers of dust that hang in the air for almost a minute. Then the Grand Matriarch arrives with her retinue of ladies and proceeds to publicly humiliate you in front of your friends and fellow tourists. You can't understand a word they're saying — but their meaning is made quite clear by the lash of bamboo against your bare back!
Elsewhere at another time, you're hanging a painting in an atelier when lo and behold, a pesky ex with whom you haven't had sex in many years walks in. They just stand there with a smug expression, which you do your best to ignore as you finish what you're doing. However, when they're about to leave, you can't help asking:
"Excuse me, but have you gotten taller?"
"No, but I have gotten a lot richer!"
Your family (who've been sitting off to the side on some sofas the whole time) finds this very amusing and laughs loudly at your predicament. So you follow your old flame out the door and soon discover that they're in the middle of filming a movie somewhere nearby. You get offered a bit-part, which you accept. But since you outshine the other starlets in the studio — the director kicks you off set! Next thing you know, you're in an alleyway smoking joints with another out of work actor and reminiscing about your short-lived cinematic career.
Finally, there's that dream you dare not speak of for fear it may come true... A chartered bus comes to your neighborhood at the crack of dawn. Everyone's confused regarding what's going on, but both you and your neighbors are effectively herded onto the Greyhound by military men in black tactical attire.
A little later, you're all led single-file into what looks to be a factory facility. During the shuffle, you end up budding in front of your closest neighbor. Once inside, it soon becomes evident that this is no ordinary warehouse. You can hear the industrial whir of metal in the distance, although it's coupled with bloodcurdling death cries. These unnerving sounds only get louder while everybody winds down the corridors of a concrete labyrinth. Your palms begin to sweat and your heart pounds because sure enough, as you round the penultimate corner, blood splatters against the wall!
There's no escape; the guards make sure of it. The poor sucker in front of you tries to run but gets thrown into the abattoir against his will. The noise is sickening. Knowing that your fate is sealed, you turn to your neighbor with a shit-eating grin on your face and ask:
"So, do you want your spot back?"
You shrug off the guards and voluntarily step forward (legs trembling) into the buzzing blades — white light engulfs your senses —
The Fallacy of Freedom
Sure you're free...
To OBEY the rules while coloring within suggested guidelines
But heaven help those who step out of sync and deviate from
Prescribed formats or formulas.
Even though there is always
A gulf between how things are
And the way that
They ought to be
Nine out of ten times
Eccentrics will get panned
Then tossed to the wayside
For odd æsthetic choices.
Yeah that's right,
We've got just enough wiggle-room
To make minor decisions
Before being pigeonholed —
By faceless conglomerates
Plus time-honored institutions.
Thus do "regular folks" become
Complicit in their own imprisonment.
Sic Transit Gloria Mundi
With all this implies.
So go on painting by number
Until you're trapped in a corner!
Outdated References
Those of us who grew up during analog days may recall that "Reality Television" wasn't a thing prior to the O.J. Simpson murder trial.
Common knowledge centered around the anarchic hotbed that was Waco, TX — where Koresh and his branch Davidians went up in flames when ATF and FBI stormed the compound.
Hence did Timothy McVeigh exact retribution in Oklahoma City with the largest domestic bombing preceding 9/11. Back then terror tended to be homegrown (before the state took charge as at present).
They were such times that Ted Kaczynski's mad ploy to draw attention to his "Unabomber Manifesto" dominated the headlines.
Anyway it was tough afterward to follow the heinous acts of one Jeffrey Dahmer (found guilty of cannibalism, to say but the least).
And who could forget Lorena Bobbitt cutting off her husband's manhood? Though it was surgically reattached and she acquitted by pleading temporary insanity.
Seriously, even an Olympic figure skater had gotten her hands dirty: Tonya Harding sent her man to club rival Nancy Kerrigan's leg.
Given these circumstances, we too might have wished that comet Hale-Bopp was indeed hiding an alien spacecraft coming to take us home; like the Heaven's Gate suicide cult.
It wasn't ALL BAD of course... Woodstock '94 was a relatively chilled out relapse into late 60's grooving. Unfortunately, it was overshadowed by the more notorious Woodstock '99. However, that's another story from a former time!
Counter-Culture Failure
Artists have become complicit with the spectacular aspects of commodification. All talents are now coopted in service to capitalistic enterprise.
Fatalistic as it may sound, there isn't any chance for an effective revolution to overthrow this system ... Its roots reach too deep into the collective unconscious.
Inertial tendencies have been inculcated in us since infancy. Everybody's parents and even grandparents were ensnared long before our arrival.
The nature of the beast is such that it has already assimilated any resistance to its preponderance well beforehand.
Dissenting voices find themselves drowning among a cacophony of competing choruses. Yet national anthems still define the terms of engagement.
Fine art is presently naught but skillful seduction; a well-polished reflector obfuscated by wispy vapor.
Its finest offerings adorn the towering edifice of traditionalist establishment. Hollywood holds sway over the untrained mind.
Glamour and glitter bedazzle beholders more than Huxley's 'Moksha-Medicine'. Banality brings spectators together, while larger than life superstars subvert their individuality.
Such impressionable peons get ground under industrial gears set in motion to demolish public doubts:
"Keep your faith in wealthy figureheads, because they must surely know what's best for society's collective investiture!"
Auto-Critical Critique
For starters: this writer usually adopts the voice of an entire chorus; a stance that wears on one quickly. Royal We remains prevalent but the first person is frustratingly nowhere to be found!
His compositions are topical and tend toward metaphysical abstractions, which hold only loose relations to their titles. That is likely the result of having read too much John Donne or Andrew Marvell.
Additionally, there is an acrimonious overuse of verbosity running throughout his strident phraseology. Prosaic sentences seem to go on indefinitely while poetic dalliances devolve into nothing more than mere drivel.
Alliteration becomes campy deconstruction ~ Punctuation is eccentric to the extreme — following a logic all its own¡ Grammarians would wince as arrant arrogance flies in the face of traditional technique. Here even rhyming rings untrue due to syncopated timing ...
Such pretentious devices instantly turn off most readers. Yet for some unexplained reason, their forced application seems altogether deliberate. Perhaps said fact corresponds to the conceited claim that this is indeed "Anti" Poetry.
Regardless, he will never amount to anything in a world where book sales mark success. Long gone are the days when people actually analyzed writing and considered it an artful pursuit. With attention spans waning away rapidly, each l e n g t h e n e d letter hammers another nail into his categorical coffin.
Digital Shamanism
Digital Shamanism
Well if you must use the Facebook™
Make sure it aids in Recapitulation.
Nothing doing online
Among disillusioned Dreamers.
Where be the seasoned Warriors?
(They don't conform to techie patterns).
Out here all anyone ever hears
Is a whole lot of dissonant Tonalities;
Butthurt arguments born of hypersensitivity, overindulgence, &
Sentimentality.
So strap on your #VR Headset
Let's traverse this silicon tundra ...
Ignite some sage grass or incense.
Fling open the Windows® of perception!
Mortality is a predator watching — waiting
To pounce upon those who are at unawares :o
Non-Standard Disclaimer
The proceeding is an unpaid Badvertisement
Wherein you (henceforth, "the readers")
Are subject to the terms and conditions
Of disservice delineated herein:
We (henceforth, "the writers")
Will not condescend to dumb down
Our message, which is the essence
Of this antipoetic license.
The readers will be given consideration
Only insofar as they are willing and able
To interpret these overstatements
With a perceptive or receptive mindset.
Subterfuge such as sarcasm, satire, and simile
Shalt be utilized to outwit even the savviest
Swashbucklers slogging through this boggish
Assemblage of piss-poor penmanship.
Although the readers may not buy it
All sales are final; in other words
There are no refunds to be given
For the minutes you have now wasted...
Console yourself with promotional code: NOLENS-VOLENS!
Gematria
- a cabbalistic system of interpretation of the Scriptures by substituting for a particular word another word whose letters give the same numerical sum.
Hard as one may try
The letters and numbers
Cannot always match up.
Even friends mark mistakes
Expecting perfection itself —
Yet lacunae are left to fill.
They'll forget your prose
But recall rhyming cons;
Experimental camera obscured!
There's a broad disconnect
Between what's meant
And what's mentioned.
Much as one may like
Misinterpreted intention
Precludes them catching up ...
Translations:
i. Numerology and prosody may mix, but isn't it nice to wing it once in a while?
ii. Everybody's a critic. Since we can't please most readers to begin with, why worry?
iii. In general, people fixate on a single facet of any artist's career. Many have neither the time nor mental capacity to slog through some no-name's portfolio!
iv. Self-explanatory (don't play dumb now).
v. There will forever be delays in communication between messenger and recipient. This distance distinguishes an erudite forward scout from a tongue-tied rearguard ...
Meta-Poetics vol. 4: Remission Restatement
The professed goals of this present iteration of Anti-Poetry are hereby chartered as follows:
The Fish Fry
One day, they decided to cast a trawling net from the back of their junkie boat. The translucent mesh spread out widely and sank deeply. At first it sat on the seafloor but shortly after they began to drag it along with the tugger. However, when the husband was pulling the net in, a merman appeared to his wife on the starboard side. He told her that this haul was a mere trifle compared to his own sub-sea riches. He spoke of a coral city decorated with mother-of-pearl. Lulled by his seductive spell, the foolish fishwife decided to defect.
As he and she swam away in each other's arms, the merman sang a submarine song, which caused the sunny sky to darken with ominous cloud cover. Thunder, lightning, and rainfall conspired to create a perfect storm. It was not long before a massive tsunami came barreling toward the tugboat and swept the forlorn fisherman far off! The boat became driftwood on a remote island beachhead. Nonetheless, the fisherman had held fast onto the net as well as its exotic effects.
Henceforth commenced his solitary confinement. Although sweetest love had slipped away, he did at least become a better baiter and also built a second ship to mast her. Oh yes, he caught everything from the slickest swordfish to Nereids, whom brought news of scarcity fathoms beneath our fishnet caster.
So lonesome he prepared the fish fry at his own leisure; supping on wonders of the deeps yet also fasting now and then for good measure. Under a waxen moon, bioluminescent specimens surfaced to adorn his thousand seashell crown with undersea treasure!
The moral is: Cherish what you yourself conceive. Unlike the fishwife who sought the depths, only to be deceived!
Aquiline Ascension
Penetralia
Penetralia
Truth tellers recount happenings as accurately as memory serves
Whistleblowers point fingers to prosecute whom justice perturbs
Soothsayers may answer prayers when naysayers are unnerved
Axons conduct neural impulses to dendrites across synaptic nerves
Sensuality conveys more than possible for a writer's condensed blurb
Gather however much you can from what remains here unreserved
This meddling meter wears out its welcome—kicked onto the curb
Yet it's writ in decimal because such structures gleam superb
The town crier relays clear messages through voluble verve
In the end unjust ones gossip; spitting venom undeserved.
Decadence Throughout The Decades
Today's trendoid douche bags regard the 80's and 90's as the epitome of COOL.
Back then teens took their inspiration from the 60's and 70's.
So it must go on indefinitely in retrograde;
each generation admiring the best of what came before
while simultaneously rejecting tacky tradition and rebelling
against any oppressive state of affairs.
Thus we find ourselves reliving similar dramas
or reiterating those same likely stories
as our lamentably predictable predecessors
(at least insofar as hindsight reveals them).
Still we're unsure of how what's coming will differ.
A pattern appears to crystallize when we lay our eyes upon it...
Minute men worn by many years resist its advent:
Hegemony is leading us into the limbo of Homogeny!
Yet even within that oneness of identity conflict will persist,
because it's an inborn trait of mankind's fragmentation.
Upstarts rail at tried and true technique—
old timers reminisce over some bygone golden era.
Monomaniacs criticize just to constantly rehash the same devilish details.
Everybody dwells on what formative memories have dictated for them.
Who would even notice the handbasket reaching hell?
Tomorrow's misanthropes already read this as a perennial quintessence!
Image: Kali (goddess of death and destruction) projected onto the Empire State Building by digital artist Android Jones. Many Hindus view our present time as Kali Yuga; the iron age of decay.
Atheism: The Lesser of Two Evils?
We may even say that it proved most incorrect during the peak of the Industrial Revolution, which brought us the humanitarian horrors of World War I & II.
* Except on Wall of Worthies – whereon rights are retained by respective authors.

















