Manifest 7

Lives as soothing waves of complacent anticipation. Exciting rediscovery of digital Columbus as Half Mulatto Half Albino White Black Rucksack-as-Adidas. Incredulous miracles not to be believed in served on the rocks. Halfwit newspost resembling digital constipation. The Redundancy Engine shaking off last night at long last but not quite yet stirring. Tragicomic civil rights revisionist entertainment beamed up on screen. Half-man, half-rumour, pure concentrated manipulation. This is our nation.

The Birth of a Nation [Edit]

A meta-courtesan Mother Spirit bathes in oceans of lukewarm amniotic fluid scented with the antiseptic non-smells of lost innocence; From her hips plunging entire mountain ranges, sizzling, taunting, shaping in the inviting curvaceous forms of empty innuendo. Children now born proud to a world that finally discerns its fluctuating sputtering coughing dirty degrees of Eros and Psyche, even if it is only a matter of definition.

(Temporal axioms collapse unto themselves in the background. No sound.)

To nullify the inherent resulting losses we move beyond the subject-object language of the body to become wholly linked with the Word, body-for-word, body-by-word. The man-machine interface symbiosis reaching its penultimate step towards final hypertextual immortality.

Yes I said "creeping dread."

(In the mirror I see
The meme is me.)

Newspaper screams scandal with bundled pitbull spit; Tabloid messiah born blind rips itself a third eye as Leviathan arises from the deep sea of control remote control remote control stop absolute stop panic stop monster stop mystery stop _ stop dot

Yes we sang "creeping dread."

Every day is the same [Edit]

The imaginary beast of myth
Lying down on our keyboards
Purring global presence with
Dancing paws printing gibberish.

(Local flavour blends quietly into view
Our protective mechanisms[1]
Screaming spider sense.)

Lethal Boredom [Edit]

Digital timestamp eternal. Urban collage of unmovable bytes. Bronco stallions pulling limbs tite till something pops, Hubba Bubba, loose hubcaps rattling. Come back to go away. Cycle goodbye. Go again & stay - make no difference.

Bathing in the Light Fantastic [Edit]

The waters are shallow here, knee-deep in the dead styles of lost civilizations that enter our souls by our soles, twist-turn our very flesh, every twirl tying our bodies more and more to the forgotten cultures of our ancestors; Yet our fingers are throwing fits at the speed of the accelerating tempo of our wavering intestinal fortitude.

Subsequent writhing-in-pain hand-to-brain connection severed walking running crawling nonplussed modern hand of god.

(Veni, vidi, gusti.)

Sampling unabated pure cosmic energy from the Source, tasting the neon-green sheen of the digital tit campaign. The marketing industry knows our tongues are not used for speaking.

(Tastes like shit.)

Disconnexia [Edit]

Preconditioned brain haemorrhoids flaring up again and again and again our soluble soul needs more ass-to-mouth artificial respiration. The effect is instant but the stain remains. Repeat repeat after after me.

Our Will to Power as Men, of Earth, effectively surrogated by the Fascist machinations of our Freudian sister-self.

(Nocturnal prayer middle finger as final exhausted Pavlovian blast-off into Space.)

Come Confusion [Edit]

Solitary man-powered humidity lingers through the opened window, making way to Heaven. Rhythmic staccato of keys clattering to the humming of the coolers masked by the intricately programmed background music of our lives. Moment overtaken by delusion – a recurrent dip in the enticing current of warm Romantic ideals that carry no trace of our post-industrial surroundings; Beam me up to the Immortal Heart of Man Scotty.

Early morning and lonely feeding the fire art movie ignites incredible nocturnal wanderlust und Weltschmerz; Wish I were a director! Ciné vérité!!! Tread over tread over paint a canvas shoot up some more film – have a gun will travel; to go or not to go! That is not the question!

Wait the fuck up, I live my life in schlo-mo!

The Return of Hope Hereafter [Edit]

(Humanity transcends its self-afflicted Anomie.)

See also: [Edit]


  1.  Nationalism and patriotism


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