THE KILL POEM (REBOOT)
In the short term
Our own joy
From loss
As it happens
In this room now
Is our vow
To Eternity’s war-
den to keep going–
We eat even the rind
Of experience
On the black sofa
That puzzles us
No longer
My own section
Of a blockhouse
Is bright, wide
Coming from
Future of past
Moments that
Like dreams
Even chimeras
Suffice for the pay-
check we are grate-
ful to live by
And use when
The covenant’s
Door of stained
Glass spins off
Its axis and from
The logos’ own plate
Bears zypherly
Down on us
There was the quiet time
(Truth) of the rusted
Spring box action-
Figure lunchbox
TV dinner microwave
Of Buzz Lightyear
And sheriff Woodie
Where through peep-
hole the dark one
Like pirate with patch on
Could only spy
On Alice
As with Leida
And the Swan
From some galaxy of Pluto
Far far far far away
Where drum gave no sound
Yes there was a quiet time
Of the xerox nickelodeon
The slinkie and sharp-yellow
Phonebook of the slap-it bra-
celet not to forget those Post-
it reminders before Apple’s
Big come-up of Bite
Ushering the i-phone
In tandem with Hell’s Chrome
Of the 5-G & digitized
Meanwhile the headlines
And economy are the ilk
Of El P’s ‘full retard’
As if the gods have ‘woke
From the hulls
Of their emerald halls~
As the Tablets of Thoth
Foretold Their space crafts
Cigars Tic Tacs Rubber Ducks
UFOs now declassified
And defined as Unidentified
Aerial Phenomena straight out
The X-Files and Project Blue Book.
The Battle for Los Angeles
Gave us only a blip
Off the radar As Pynchon
Writes we are Beyond
The Zero for which the neo-
nazi pigtards are going to
To need a bigger ark
More than a bell
Or Hindenburg blimp–
For them it’s cum down
To total chaos total disaster
Total foul ball~ another strike
Another out Better call
An Uber better dial up
A LYFT and head for some pin-
drop because Ghostbusters
(for you) ain’t pickin’ up
The pinks know that they know
What’s going on The flap
Of their redcoats is their own
Deer trot turning out of iambic
Into gallop of Daniel Jones
Against the Liberty’s Eagles
Going for 80 yards before
Too bad the fall of Your Grass
Is Mine
The world descends
Into the Earth inside
Everyone becomes
Dante–it can’t be, no!
But it is and you know
Get ready kids for thrill
For show Put down
Your ticktocks for they
Attract the appetite
Of the crocodile
Better to pet a zebra
Better to walk a yoyo
You’re Super Mario Bros.
Stuck in time-capsule
Of some super-computer’s
Segue to Genesis
Call it NinTenDo, oompa loom-
pas
II
In Paris Seidel counts
“Winter, Spring, Baahdad, fall”
Because he is not able not to
He recounts Pound
Pound’s “Wars in old times
Were made to get slaves”
And nothing will change
Unless Prometheus
Or modern-day Peter Pan
Is willing to post and cast
His capacity to see ten things
The ordinary man doesn’t con-
ceive ‘til it’s twenty years
After the second Holocaust
And so that’s why I’m here
Blowing my Vnicorn stink across
Like Jordan representing the Chi
In cursive writing 23 consecutive
Points scored in a game
Against the, qua-qua, bleak system
Of the Atlanta war hawks
Goodbye the dark Goodbye the dark
Goodbye machines that empty life
By ring Goodbye bridges and towers
That were built by Solomon’s baal
Goodbye Disney Your Nazi Kastles
Your Mickey and Minnie Mouse
To the scales of Maat the pet of Thoth