bassackwards
'The real purpose of socialism is precisely to overcome and advance beyond the predatory phase of human development.' -Albert Einstein
I lie in the dirt on a dark moon night,
warmed earth on my back, eyes to the stars.
a twinkle of light shoots around a manmade satellite
as I contemplate the horror of the world.
In the shift of season, breathlessly
anticipating the autumnal moon,
I lie in the Alyssum, Sweet Pea Butterfly,
Craspedia, and what is left of the Pride of Madeira.
away with the last flit of a hummingbird on night howls.
faint foghorn, gone. coastal creep flotsam, and jetsam
transmuting, we must give hushedly swapping owls.
swanning around.
stop. full stop right there…
this is not autobiographical if nonfiction even exists.
the curation of the lived experience
is what happens to reality. truths…
I defend the right to be utterly ruthless.
when we shape and form it, who you? are you severed?
this is a charged moment. absurd…
check the den of robbers.
respond to the unjust with righteous anger.
here we go again, socialism for the wealthy
and rugged individualism for workers.
stoke the culture wars, unable to define terms,
spouting talking points of falsehoods and misunderstandings.
diverting attention from the continual economic looting
of unbalanced capitalistic greed.
then closing until further notice due to retail theft rampage.
on every level, looting is looting. have the nerve to recoil
from two wrongs but ask what can make it right.
working in acres not hours, you romanticize the past,
but the world was always awful.
and you never read, not even that manifesto.
ready or not blasts bassackwards.
self already telling a lie, why not make it two?
don’t take part in the lie. don’t be inarticulate,
fear-mongering the future. here comes the spike in poverty,
right on time. resurrect the common good
in a strong social market economy.
at least the basics before the technological singularity.
pooling decision trees
the fifth law after the zeroth, must identify.
takeover sunset marked the horizon with slow-fire,
half-burnt umber in scarlet contrast
numbers up against green redwood giants,
a line of demarcation where wilderness is alive.
untamed bluelines collide, Rhapsody Blue Sausalito face off
with keeping Tahoe Blue, blue is not just blue.
one green thought saved by millions of small things…
fortune favours the bold under the harvest supermoon
on a most transparent night. replay U.S. elevator on repeat.
stoke rage. back to the valley of the moon, Sonoma,
then to a pasture in Petaluma, think of it.
bassackwards humourous ass-backward
trying to serve two masters.
the struggle goes on and on. lone starman
begs and barks for transhumanism.
heading to sleep, death’s brother comes softly
after death’s sister. sister, brother, you can't fool your own blood.
hardly strictly petit mort is still free. entering Golden Gate
a man stands on the corner screaming and pumping signs.
buskers' silent instruments voice concern.
what makes a fascist? the word pyramid inside the square
twists on sticks bassackwards.
staked answers line up in a row on the way
heading to swan stage. voices raise.
swan songs stoke rage against stoking rage
against cultural elites. who rejects democracy for that strongman?
muscular Christianity wears and tears on glory rainbows
with so much disdain for women and LGBTQ+
medieval misconceptions still divide.
the omissions or worse than the lying,
omission, or de-emphasis of important data.
every person touches the in-between, halos really.
just sit in the body and find salvific joy.
body soul unity, transubstantiation in whose image?
grace for those who want to sexualize the soul.
make the soul male or female.
to live called evil, to blame devil dog wedge nature
for the cut from the trinity. inward outward
ovaries of first-word, first breath. exogenesis spread.
bassackward, everything is the wrong way round.
people just people! why glorify strength and warriors?
why does ‘superior race’ nationalism keep treading?
trees rustle in the wind, the wondering draw closer…
dread the collector redefines the philosophy of war
on the backs of influential theorists,
from Sun Tzu to Aquinas's Just War.
drone buzzes over the new art of war
on a battlefield with no flags and no taste for victory.
speak of this interregnum again, plain anti-mimesis.
bassackwards, everything is the wrong way round.
stuck in this predatory phase of development,
will humankind ever advance beyond?
futurist moonrise, now it wanes. takedown
nuked back to mythmakers.
there’s a general store. why not go around?
bassackwards, under the sky star wheel,
it is a shakedown, breakdown, throwdown.
