blood-letting and the virgin bride no.2

new jerusalem, centuries of the self, cartesian geometry… a figurehead in flames, as the markets expand and contract… birth canals of squalid reasoning… glass and steel monoliths rising from the desert in the dawn mist…

blood-letting and the virgin bride… deflowering the idyll… grand visions of staged reality built on a beautiful lie… idol worship on the shop floor… agony in the welding pit… cerebral cortex psychotropic trips…

technicolor fears and lucid doubts, claustrophobia in the ballot box… greasy fingers plying their trade over mahogany tables… islamic jurisprudential rites, framed in caustic idolatry… the screen steadily flickering…

life as background entertainment shows; distortion, dissonance, signals filtered through unknown sources… tea dances, ballroom masquerades, mass population indexes, virtual trigonometry… meaninglessness… copy, paste, delete…

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trump after inauguration no.2

giddy terror in waves as the chubby fingers of the amber nonce begin to rummage around for his sickly administration… idiocy through the valves, hatred, racism and misogyny in brutal measures… gleeful satisfaction in the face of unprecedented upheaval… streets on fire, rage, disillusion and brazen hostility…

a cadre of loyalists writhing in mutual masturbation… slaked in petrochemicals, dosed with pharmaceutical highs and lows… draining the swamp… shock-waves of total disbelief still reverberating around the geopolitical sphere… barbed-wire fence-posts and market fluctuations…

with the voice of a lecherous slob he begins to reveal his list of degenerates: he who is guilty of white supremacist views, he who is guilty of ethics violations, he who is guilty of racial profiling, he who is tainted by scandal… the list goes on as the lights all slowly flicker out to nightmares of an unrelenting triple-darkness…

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military industrial remembrance fields no.1

…white-noise on the monitor, defective rounds in the chambers, terror in the eyes… broken hearts in perpetual agony… remembrance services honour working class war dead… sent to their early graves by etonian-oxbridge officers pursuing careers through the military… a busy weekend fire-bombing women and children… terrified foreigners boiled to death in their basements… poppy-fields hosed in bloodlust… walking out into mud-fields slaked in blood… morbid generals war-plans collapse amidst the fog and insurmountable carnage of the slaughter… horses drown in no man’s land… trench feet rot… aerial bombardment saturates innocents in fire and shrapnel… grim podium intonements of excess and filth; courting the pension-fund slave-masters… white devils in tailored suits spouting unfathomable rhetoric as the bombs fall and tracer rounds tear human flesh to ribbons… carpet bombing villages of strangers, smelting metals for medals, speaking slowly into the microphone, ash blowing on a dead breeze in remembrance…

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