dear comrade, thank you for your

caring letter; we're inspired

by your words of resistance

acrylic hieroglyphs crawl

behind great american

facade - degenerate code

unreal identities first

handed to immature grasps,

unable to know better

lost in the woods, preparing

self for selflessness, with the

militancy of kudzu

freestyle sonnet #058: GUN BHRIGH FITHEACH

Posh merging of peshmerga paraphernalia
into gentrified internet weird twit daydream
thought stream, living real as iggy azalea
quantum twerk; silicone valleys bank mountain stream

into animated meme; cut-and-paste yakubs
claim creative lotus, is just honda prelude
to turkish cafes sans Allah - I(n)R(eal)L(ife) noobs
navigating globalist position accrued

one other(ed) stifled then absorbed culture a time.
Melting pots sterilize raw cultures, I'm looking
to re-feralize, de-colonize, unfuck "I'm".
Tha mi Fhithich, step to primordial cooking.

Return to what's no longer remembered, much less
curated online. Tha mi Fhithich (fucking mess).

electricity buzzing

with civilization's false

promise of easy living

mushroom aura shining like

the prophet (peace be upon

him), with direct lineage

freestyle sonnet #057: PLZ NO MORE FOLK SONGS AT PROTESTS, LET'S SING DEAD PREZ INSTEAD

Preaching to the choir don't inspire motivated
response. Leaders fueled by ego are nothing more
than (un)just desperadoes inebriated
with attention, but bound to abandon, therefore

without people forming local alliances,
across shared social constructs designed to divide
and conquer, nothing will change. Social sciences
can theorize new world-systems, yet it's still Ride

or Die in real life. You either are down, or too
far up to risk it... I mean, we're all caught up in
systemic bullshit centuries deep, before blue
and red branded campaigns. We lose if either win.

Uncertainty is scary, yet wondrous as well,
because fresh systems rise from where the failed ones fell.

sunrise over Virginia

after circular loop round

carcinogenic nation

lives zooming by real as fuck -

human hearts pumping blood and

brains fired up with consciousness

mountains out the windows which

I'll never know, trapped in "move!

move! move!” mode, never enough

freestyle sonnet #056: MOUNTAINS REMAIN EARTH'S ANTHROPOMORPHIC MIDDLE FINGERS

Mountain temples preach resistance, can't cultivate
away poisonous touch of man's chemical brain
feeling scientific ordainment to make great
this Earth, seen as clay to be shaped (or stripped), vast plane

of grounded existence. Where are all the mystics
teaching starshine soliloquies from planet rock
hearts, with wild wonderful guerrilla linguistics,
spoken tongues false profits can't understand? Gridlock

of interstated nation shinefaced masters planned,
manifesting god-blessed destiny outlooks still
support (even if science is now god). Shared land
becomes plots, owned and controlled, except nature's will

always triumphs. Always. We too could be a part
if we began calculating more oft with heart.

the lunacy of building

order according to men's

philosophies in this world

late capitalism's tithes

during holiday season

associated with christ

freestyle sonnet #055: WAVING WHITE FLAGS TO THE DATA

Feeling more alone than ever, surrounded by
facades, plus endless digital barrage compounds
downward psychological mobility. I
remain rube-ish member of worked class - lost-and-founds

wandering rural wilderness, too dumb to advance
beyond backwards, too ugly to lifehack words paid.
Dreams are for those privileged enough to romance
existence into union with desires. Been weighed

down by failure demons, feelings of fraud, combined
chemical and bank account imbalances (which
are intertwined by design); can't find peace of mind
because my heart's math is deemed as false. Digging ditch

deeper while pretending there's possible escape;
still stupidly chasing promise of ticker tape.

taking our lunch break, talking

about how wealth and worth seem

to be the same, but they ain’t

sitting underneath dead tree,

reading some old ass Ibn

al-Arabi raw bezels

escaping Farmville again,

past empty factories and

doublewide home sales strip

digital outsider arts -

blogspot accumulating

constant drive without back-up

industrial plants sprouting

along river's edge, coughing

up false manufactured clouds

scratching across the planet's

surface, attempting to build

some sense of safety as “home”

civilizations keep it

together for a while, but

empires tend to fall apart

plywood windows and private

property signs still an

American tradition

quilts was ancestral coding,

making comforting sense of

all the fucked up shit we held