Thursday, January 19, 2012

Momentary human connection amidst this matrix of plastic archetypes makes the sufferance of the mundane bearable.

Feminist Manifesto

Manifest feminista
Manifesto inscribed
In my blood
Spilled for this.
Prophetic cataclysm
Syllabic cacophony
In my blood
Spilled for this.
Heartrending hell
Sweet symphony
In my blood
Spilled for this.
Melodic melancholy
Inspired iconoclast
In my blood
Spilled for this.
She rises
Unparalleled wonder
Paradigm of the sages 
Nothing can harm you now.
As she rises,
I rise.
Sufferance remanded
Emancipation received
Redemption unfettered
Yes, I have spilled my blood for this.


Prim and proper
Black corset laced tight
Her torso bleeds
For his delight.
She hovers in the corner
Awaiting his gaze
Her eyebrows are raised
In proper mask
Beneath her bustle,
A hidden flask
She sweetly prances to the ladies’ room
Powders her nose
And takes a swig
Her dire fate
Yet doth await.
Chattle’s hell
Doth not abate.
She cannot breathe
This damned corset
Allows no reprieve.
Her ribs are bruised
All for the prim
And pain for him
Chattel’s duty
She shall endure
There is no cure
Except this flask
Pray thee, constant pour.

"If water derives lucidity from stillness, how much more the faculties of the mind! The mind of the sage, being in repose, becomes the mirror of the universe, the speculum of all creation."
Chuang Tzu

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Polytechnic Bliss

The have and the have nots
An ageless tale
Now wrapped in polyurethane
And sold with zeal
Technological manifesto
Mass appeal
Digital delights
The abyss of plasticity
A conflagration of books
Ray Bradbury's prophecy
Now come to fruition
Culture's disintegration
Visual spectacles
Virtual worlds
Hours upon hours spent gaming
And what remains?
Utter emancipation from human thought
The brain on autopilot
The annihilation of contemplation
Human contact dwindling
We are becoming mechanized
Devoid of emotive expression
The proletariat is entranced
Flashing lights, blinking screens
The easiest way to control the masses?
Keep them occupied
With polyurethane things
Plastic archetypes
Polytechnic bliss
The bondage of the mind
Is more effective than chains
A culture of fools
Is what remains.

copywrite 1/18/2012

Red Light District

The red lights blink
Bloody hues of seduction
The smudged windows glisten
Glass bars of deception
Bald men perspire and grin outside the glass
Young women grimace from within this prison.
Yet, swallowing their distaste
They pose in chains and lace
Hardened eyes no longer cry
Painted lips no longer speak
Lips retract; it is not a smile
A sneer is mustered to appease this hell
The outer hell has become the inner hell
Things have been sold that no one should sell.
Here they are caged
Encapsulated in glass
Coveted youth; now corrupted and used
Many were brought against their will
Their tiny forms now pressed against a window sill
The oldest profession...
Driven by perversion and male obsession.
And the sacrificial lambs
Are our little girls.

copywrite 1/17/2012
Your battles inspired me - not the obvious material battles but those that were fought and won behind your forehead.
James Joyce

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

"The tragedy of life is what dies inside a man while he lives."
Albert Einstein