Archive for the ‘modern life’ Category

Why am I so into post-structuralist theory right now?
In Taipei I read Baudrillard’s “System of Objects”
Now I am reading “The Illusion of the End”
Tonight I takes notes on a Subway napkin
While watching a youtube video by Colt 360

“10 dollars is a piece of paper with a ten on it”
we live as fish swimming in the swarm
of reproduction without an original
suicidal goldfish removed from the gold standard
drinking standard beer labels that look like budweiser

“Now imagine your family sitcom”
you have lost me here
cute college lesbian youtube video poster
you look like the girlfriend of a friend of mine
and I have not seen a family sitcom in decades

“this is a real mug, but I am disconnected from the reality of it”
marxist late-capital production example
mug is to coffee as coffee is to day
a matter of drug and time and effort
something clever to say

“it shapes our reality based on the fake”
I did not once date Justin Bieber
I did once write a poem about his tattoos
“hyperreal becomes more real than the real”
(societal schizophrenia)

I have always thought of post-structuralism
as the poetry of social commentary
yet not as myself as a post-structuralist poet
the closest label I would drape over my persona
would be a sci-fi poet

“question grand narratives”
the enlightenment has led to totalitarianism
“the depressing nature of post-structuralism”
my poem is a micronarrative
(there is a french term for this
which I choose to remain ignorant of)

 

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I had to live through the experience of my father being excited about the
Android phone.
It was years ago,
but the memory still traumatizes me.

He had to, in turn, experience my distaste with my own
smartphone ‘ownership’.
I don’t know if that experience was as impactful
for him…

To me the two poles are a satisfactory metaphor
for our relationship.
A father who loves technology,
A son who despises it.

Do not take this to mean I dislike my father,
Though an observer may come to the conclusion,
that he is more excited about his object sons
(his other sons, his RV, his guitars, his tech).

As I am more inspired by my subject fathers
(my muse, my gods, my games).
But that is the way of things,
I just cannot force myself to love my phone.

Owe Any?

Posted: May 22, 2014 in economic, modern life

being strung along by a guy with a phone
while I drag a body bag, my skin holds my bones
my money is spent through my stomach or my nose
I’m smoking my lungs out, stinking up my clothes

my apartments a box where I wait times alone
surrounded by wood and dead solid stones
while I think too hard and can’t even condone
all the things that I do when my mind is a drone

blabbing and finding the tower of Babel has no dome
like a star in the night that the moon has outshone
dull the gods into dumb strangers and crones
switching off the warheads into brooms flown

while I cower like a corpse in my catacomb
reading dead numbers with the data on loan
all my head this encapsulated brain that I’ve grown
same seed over-saturated and regrown

how many dreams will I wake up from
with my heart pounding hard and I moan
if I wrote them all down they’d still be unknown
to the future of myself watcher clone

copied out of comfort like memory foam
like pages facsimile from the old dusty tome
I try to forget all the weakness the world shown
until I get better at feeling at home

Owe any? is a three letter one-
and it still owes me all the things never done-
never done, never won, never none-
none taken, owe any? three letters breaking—-

Is this place a mall or a carnival?
Kids riding unicorn merry-go-rounds
with candy stuck to their faces
laughing hysterically
while sister skips the tile cracks-

It’s a mile track of cheap chinese made clothing
the smell of disenfectant
and time wasted
baby twins in an oversized stroller
and bored security guard
writing poetry eyeing up skateboarders
looking for a drug deal
circle the foodcourt high theft area
and wipe your nose on your finger
Emma Watson is in the new movie called NOAH

Is this a shopping centre
or a high tech playground
for no-brain spender zombies
walking around like Dawn of the Dead extras
its disgusting but what do we expect
capitalism gone rampant
two hundred year empire building crap-shoot
with telecom providers running lottery
survey crack games
and two-year warranties
that don’t cover ethics-

Unscrupulous sales methods
and group psychology black magic
muzak filling the air
as teenagers sigh old men yawn
and silvered haired grandma
is buying three pairs
of gold earrings-

Is this a democratic space
or a spaced out silent debt slave
robot pen herd the sheep in
shave’em and sell the spring line
of halter tops and push-up bras
violent video games stupid
black hats with the word ‘FAMOUS’
all-capped in glitter sequin lettering
a graphic design nightmare-

But a dream we all hold up
like a placard of doom
“the crash is nigh”
close your eyes and hold on
to the metal bar
as the roller-coaster rises
scream your brains out
piss yourself and puke out
your teen burger in
black tile bathroom stall-

Is this a place of business
or a mental institution
every human in a crew cut
resuming a big game of Sims
quick let me in
I wanna redesign my closet
with more money than I’m making
since they made usury not a sin
I’ve signed ten credit cards
and raised the limits-

Raise the fluorescent lighting
but can you contain
my consumer ego
I want product choice
more than regional
I want my greed to go global|
so I can ignore hobos
and ship e-waste to
china or africa so little kids
can get poison by burning
plastic smoke as they play
soccer in a garbage swamp-

Is this a tourist attraction
or a classic saturday afternoon
satisfaction for
planned obsolescence addicts
its headless manikins versus
soulless photo models who
in five years will resort to porn
as their sex appeal wavers
its oversized coffee
screens everywhere
teens with green hair-

People addicted to phones
texting images flickering
sex sells overwhelms
over-stimulated rats in a maze
eyes a glaze a caffeine and sugar
haze the tower of babel
sprawling wider everyday BOGO
BOHO no going slow your
living in the fast lane the
so called space info age-

Is this a timeless place or
is time laced with suspended
animation did we kill our gods
with mouse toxin shot the dogs
and lost the last bit of dignity
to a pimp in a santa claus suit
tossed salad and stone soup
try out the D-box seats
and watch the Junos-

Who knows how long the spell
will last the caster is laughing
to the bank with a fat roll of
queens the american dream
out of control it seems the gleam
of the electron election machine
has only one button labelled
“Buy Me” Alice- “Try Me”
“Eat Me” “Drink Me”-

Is this a corporate think tank
or the shards of a broken
Winnie the Pooh piggy bank
they killed the wise old owl
and showered the shamans with
gamma rays grandmas playing
Malificient at the ice capades
and I’ve run out of nice things
to say-

So I finish my shift
put my phone back on
and shackle on
plug in my ear phones and
ignore the kids cracked out
on a sugar buzz running onto
the bus screaming
“I’m so hyper!” while my eyes
burn cause I only slept three
hours after a four hour shift
under mall lighting…

Kills Unlimited

Posted: January 22, 2014 in technology
Tags:

Playing the system
not the new one
the old classic
Fingers adept
cheat codes, secrets
(invisible walls)
The top players, ELO ratings over 1800
noobs fear them
like astronauts fear UFOs
The game is the run
the run is the event
the only way to play
where playing is living
The players live
and never die
but some fade
aching thumbs
aching minds
aching eyes
Eyes that burn
the shapes of the game cube
haunt pixel nightmares
Explosions forever
eternal blood screen
The true pros
go out with a final
perfect headshot

So the future turned out to suck
Nobody’s flying any cars-
I got no floating skateboard
No silver clothes or colony on mars-

I guess we got the video phone
But who really cares-
So I can see your face
But you ain’t got no implants or purple hair-

I’m just a sci-fi obsessed fan
You can hear me future pining-
Cause since the internet hit
Culture’s being stuck in the nineteen nineties-

All our music sounds the same
Auto-tuned gangster pop shit-
The electronic craze has made
The youth soulless and killed the mosh pit-

The economy is weak
No bullet trains for North America-
Concentrated wealth corruption
Coke-head Wall Street ain’t sharing it-

And the technocrats
Just find new ways into our heads-
3-D D-Box cinema propaganda
Social networks and anti-depressants-

I wish I could live in the future
Depicted in an eighties film-
New Hollywood ain’t looking so good
All the futures they show so grim-

I guess most people are satisfied
With the power of their cellphones-
They don’t have the same nightmares I have
Of being chased by a drone-

SO WAKE ME UP
WHEN I’M MARTY MCFLY
WHEN THE NEW CORVETTES FILL THE SKY
WHEN I CAN MAKE A GIRL
WITH MY HOME COMPUTER
SO WE CAN VACATION ON MARS OR THE MOON

SO WAKE ME UP
WHEN THERE’S REPLICATORS
WHEN HUMANITY UNITES TO FIGHT
THE SPACE INVADERS
WHEN I CAN USE MY MIND TO BEND A SPOON
AND THEY’VE BUILT AN ELEVATOR
TO THE MOON

So the future didn’t quite turn out
As I thought as a kid-
Where’s all the robots doing the labor
Fighting for their right to exist?-

Why does is seem like
Nothing’s really going on-
No more people on the moon
Or VR sims like in that movie Tron-

What edge did we loose?
Was it the cold war ending?-
Cause we got no one to race with
Did we just stop pretending?-

Cause we used to think
Our progress was damn near unstoppable-
That things are gonna look like Blade Runner
In five years, that is improbable-

Cars-
Are the plexiglass CANCER CELLS
That infect my city with a MOOD disorder
That everybody thinks it’s normal to look at me
And yell at me to stop juggling
And “GET OUTTA THE FUCKIN WAY!”

I have the RIGHT of way! I am JUGGLING!!!
I am making the world a slightly sillier, more FUN place-
I make children and panhandlers smile
YOU have no right, Mr. Ford F150 slave!
All you do is pollute the air, endanger yourself
Give yourself road rage and blast HORRIBLE
DEHUMANIZING oppressive rap music.

I don’t like to pull the:
“Do you know who my father is?” card
But yeah, he works upstairs
And what makes me SICK inside
Is that this honking ignoramus
Knows exactly who our mother is
She’s the one you dared pave a road over
She’s the one you choke every morning
She’s the one you bleed for your luxury

And I’m just assuming that
If you’re this ANGRY at a man juggling
And slowing you down by a few seconds
I doubt you found the time to even THANK
Our mother today for the suffering
You have imposed on her

Well one day she will RECLAIM her skin
Her rushing tears
Will wash your demon-cab F150 away
With all the other vehicles of the LUCIFER PROJECT
And during the deluge
I will smile and juggle on a rooftop
While you CRY and PRAY for a helicopter