at my @rojonekku twit acct, monthly]
gonna stick-n-poke
homemade tattoo "freebird
guitar solo" soon
probably on my leg,
but maybe on my forehead
gripped by loneliness,
basement apartment full of
craigslist furniture
siren song of ethanol
and opioids sings softly
not lonely for sex -
pointless thrashing of bodies
in physical acts
it feels so Sisyphean
sometimes - weak serotonin
I want the strong shit,
the never come down shit, the
"life's but a dream" shit
desiring oblivion's
comforting fog yet again
too many humans
occupying recurring
roles in my life's fake
lost in their own fog, likely,
projecting their blinds on me
fake motherfuckers
in abundance in this late
capital era
very few brothers willing
to get dirty if needed
I write poetry
utilizing tradition
of obscurity
long history of lost folks
scribbling words into the void
oral tales explode
from voiceless hearts trained by fists
to silence themselves
just another piece of shit
loser writing poetry
never mastered this
fine art outside of my own
daily practices
illegitimate arts grown
beyond "real" institutions
when I die, scatter
my ashes on Rivanna
line, mile 69
let the detritus of me
leech back into James River
mixed with creosote,
through glyphosate-laden corn
fields, back to essence
down James floating backwards through
"western civilization"
over falls above
Richmond, where the James widens
into fat river
back down to Chesapeake Bay,
dirtgod ashes now just sand
reunited with
primordial ocean, one
drop in vast expanse
individual mandate
to exist finally gone
what a blessed day to
be freed from suffocating
liberty ideals
this myth blasted into brain
through ceaseless propaganda
parades of cosplay
veterans and various
police vehicles
fire trucks throwing candy at
children, sugar-coating the lies
free flags and bibles,
fifty stars, new testament,
water's two dollars
fuck this American myth,
stab these fuckers in the face
public pool full of
poor choices in personal
tattoos and diet
jiggle ass in abundance -
late stage capitalism
love too make poorest
choices possible; I seem
gifted at it, too
scatter my ashes when dead
across Chinese buffet spread
dirtgods born to die -
ritual traditions of
anonymity
return essence to sender -
worthless southern red clay mud
writing poesy
on my phone nobody will
ever read - birdseed
Columbus discoveries
require Columbus, not land
never be no arts
elite - illegitimate
like most my cousins
"real" writers and artists are
often propped up by own wealth
love too all losers
doing art as survival - vast
galleries of doomed
our marks never gain value,
but they heal poison culture
love too sow words
in scattered garden plots, real
life and digital
whether they blossom or bear
fruit is up to them, not me
owning your own thoughts -
intellectual property -
that's some weird ass shit
explosions of nonsense in
your head can't be colonized
love too be busy
exploring territories
further and wilder
a universe inside just
like outside - no time for flags
copy right or wrong,
compelled at basic level
to compose this prose
can't help it, and in fact feel
like dying when it's stifled
digital designed
to distract innate divine
desire to create
chasing outside dopamine
when it's inside all along
bought an Alpha Smart
battery operated
word processor thing
no net to trap me, I sit
on public benches, pecking
am I "alpha smart"?
not likely - intelligence
is a test, a cop
think of the assholes who say
"gathering intelligence"
I'm a simple mark,
sitting here believing in
American myths
"I could still be succesful!"
I think, when already am
meritocracy
mark, politely behaving,
calling boss "mister"
also accumulating
machetes because you know
guillotine memes shared
are funny, but how many
of y'all got the guts?
when actual heads get lopped
off, you gonna turn away?
the human darkness
we're about to enter will
not be all for lulz
the eyes of those who cannot
unsee what they've seen - piercing
hyper-awareness,
every man in passing is
a possible threat
weapons stashed throughout daily
path, identified, reckoned
machetes, milk crates,
and tarps - a solid start
to surviving shit
I will accumulate all
three whenever possible
kukri machete
currently my favorite,
but bolo's strong too
traditional latinx
version's cheap and abundant
machetes, milk crates,
and tarps... machetes, milk crates,
and tarps - the staples
set up, organize, defend
camp, against all invaders
metaphysical
invaders are abundant,
serpents posting hiss
they apply judgment from their
comfortable precipice
serpents slithering,
wearing manskins, whispering
promises of more
I keep my hatchet handy,
and barefeet away from mouth
snakes eating own tales
of merit and hard work and
so exceptional
I desire to disappear
far more than any career
wanting a bigger
piece of the pyrite, been tricked
by devil hisses
declaring bankruptcy
of system's morality
stick and poke circles
around my gutted torso,
with stars on my legs
stick and poke meditations,
an hour or so every day
stick and poke the pain
away with my trash culture
acupuncture acts
green splotch codex unfurling
slowly across wrecked body
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