5îles
Instant - 5 Îles Performance
Read by Nacoca and Google Translate
Don’t use footnotes
Give up on politics
Bear-shaken logistics
Give up on economics,
printed on printed money
algorithmic traded honey
Give up on proof and theory
Breakthroughs and lifelines
Give up on infinite astronomy
Hierarchal powers, speculation
Give up on ego and Instafame
media hives of spectacle
Buzz in the opposite direction
the swarm pays you no attention
Expels you like dust to the side
and along the edge you just glide
Slip into an endless loop of subconscious jibberish, like
ju ju mamma ju ju voodoo ju Hey
with 8 words smear black paint over months of vibrant
memories
Hey ju voodoo ju ju mamma ju ju
Don’t focus. Make small giant, magnify
minuscule monument
Don’t use the dictionary, make new words
Like Minimar and Saddots
Find words in dreams
Like Trowess and Menesthesia
All you have left are your words,
some thoughts
a swarm might be saved, a swarm
might be lost
Give up on the search and research
Don’t get so serious.
Don’t you know
It’s the observers that position the quanta
western
rolled in to a texas taxidermy derby
foul creatures freezing in the desert
trucks go by, lightning, blinded
shaking stars in a roadside pool of mud-reflected sky
I want to stay dry
with tornadoes coming and planes crashing
I want to keep that pure seed
surrounded in pink soft fibers
I need the protection of spines
needles and gnarly green pads
rotating around me in my pod
the creatures fall on their knees
begging their own dirty reflections
for some kind of respite
a piece of air
any kind of lightness at all
something to alleviate
self-inflicted spite
so they find a little rainbow in the oil slick
a radio burst from an unknown ancient cosmic signal
a line of truth drawn in unmarked sands
but I’m not a debaser
I am the epigenetic landmine cowboy
muted then mutating into a creator,
a free-roaming outlaw, marred by
bandaged tits and guarding
my missiles without a target
better to leave the flooded deserts
better to stay dry
roll my seed in the juices of its spiny pod
roll on outta here
- Interludes -
Humans with heavy reliance on the visual senses
Entire cultures washed away by a flood of images
Look at the all the everything
Profile, half cloud
Raining indigo paint
They don’t usually change the weather all around like that without some rain...
I’m thinking maybe just being human in general is bad for your karma
What happens when the hierarchy of stuff meets the internet of things?
The house is no longer a shelter - it is a machine
Concrete deposits
Abstract incrustations
carbon temples
incineration outposts
All that which is not
Adding up to what is
Drag queens are the new tribal kings
Maybe I can’t be transhuman yet
but I want to be so many kinds of human
I need a trans-genre identity
I am the ephemeral scaffolding
my cells have delineated in space
You are your feed