Diversity, Personal Liberty and Cultural Maturity.

Its amazing. We have the keys to manipulate life at the genetic level, we have the capacity to go into space, we have the technology capable of destroying all life on the planet several times over. Hallmarks of a technologically advanced species to be sure, but our emotional and social growth seems to be slacking. The lack of maturity we bear in this respect makes our potentially unethical use of these fundamentally amoral tools a dismal, looming likelihood. It also increases the probability that we will fail to apply this technology in ways that could be of the greatest benefit to our survival and growth as individuals as well as a species.

We stroke the ego, bloated and hardened by the friction offered by the pace of our ten to twelve thousand run in the realm of domesticated ape-hood, considering ourselves a higher species. Yet one is forced to remind oneself of that as a mantra, a loud mantra aiming to be heard over the continual onslaught of evidence to the contrary when you read, watch, or listen the news, when your ears cannot help but pick up the dialogues of those oh-so-many idiots we are subjected to as we plow through our daily lives, holding our soul’s breath beneath the relentless teeth of the gears grinding on our backs as we bear the daily grind of our unenlightened social system. Our eyes are just as viciously attacked as we mindlessly surf statuses and images intended to be clever on those popular social networks.

Given the clear and ever-observable fact that the means shape the ends, it seems that the goals, targets, trajectories of our attitudes towards social systems are rather important things to consider: they are the seeds destined to germinate in the future. Gestating in the minds of the many, destined to be born as an actuality eventually. So the fact that most people tend to focus on what they feel is the right way of life for everyone rather than the way of life that would provide the greatest potential freedom for everyone is a tendency that concerns me. Comedian Bill Maher once referred to this as “legislating taste,” and that seems accurate enough a portrayal of the circumstance of which I speak.

Utopia is an impossibility, most rationally-minded people will agree, simply because when it comes to living a satisfying way of life people do not agree on the details, and in fact their individual notions regarding what constitutes “the good life” are often diametrically opposed. It seems to me that too many people fail to procure the greater message out of that argument, and fail to perceive the solution provided by considering the problem as stated. If utopia is an impossibility as we do not all share notions of what a satisfying life entails, than the closest possible approximation to utopia one can hope to achieve is a social order which strives to achieve and maintain a social climate that provides the greatest amount of personal freedom. Despite this, you listen to the media, to those around you, and you read online, blown away that there is still debate over whether two people with the same style of genitalia deserve legal recognition of a marriage.

Comedian Doug Stanhope said it best, methinks, when he argued that marriage should not be a legal institution at all, as the government should be forced to look upon you as an individual — no more, no less. Legally recognizing two people as one is the kind of slippery-slope absurdity that could lead to the legal recognition of, say, corporations being individuals. What a weird world that would be to live in, you know?

Pushing that aside, however: as my favorite lesbian has put it to me, homosexuals deserve to be miserable just like everyone else. It seems rather crazy to me that anyone would be against same-sex marriage, and the reasons people have given have struck me as endlessly insane.

“Next thing you know, they’ll be holding weddings where people are marrying, like, a squash and having legal recognition and benefits.”

Though it was not a squash but a fruit or vegetable of some kind, this is essentially a line I’ve heard from people, their face carrying a seriousness that turned my initial humor towards their comment into pure fucking horror. Are you truly this stupid? People are denied their fundamental liberties because you feel your right to be an ignorant douche trumps all? If homosexual couples can finally receive recognition of their right to marry, I’m not going to start picketing about my rights as an isolationist masturbator to wed by right hand. And how this could open the floodgates of picketing vegisexuals, I will perhaps never understand.

“It will ruin the institution of marriage!”

Again, might I remind you: the divorce rate is around fifty percent. The half that didn’t last certainly didn’t work out, but have you taken a good look at the state of the relationship of the many marriages that have lasted? Ever notice the high level of infidelity? The half that last do not all define a successful marriage by any truly meaningful measure, so pull your head out of your ass and stick a cork in it. There are some people who do compliment or compensate each other quite well, and it is just as likely that they are a pair of Slot-B’s or a pair of Tab-A’s than the “conventional” opposite-sex pairing. So recognize the right of each to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness and meanining in their own diverse way, recognizing that we are not all the same inside, and see the beauty in the diversity that serves to increase the survival and growth of our species on multiple levels.

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Cold Woe Squared.

On my belly again,
false hopes higher than kites,
like a snake left to digest
the psychedelic toad
he swallowed inside.

Down on the ground, secure
from mayday, I relinquish the climb
for fear of the fall,

the ending makes the story,
deep down this we all know,
each also sure to ignore
that all roads inevitably meet up
six feet underground.

No.
Game Over or Back to Start:
That
is the question.

Back to start? If so,
how long till the monad
gets dizzy and lets go,
content with just bearing the nausea
induced by his own spinning dome?

Just fine and dandy spinning off,
dying out here on my own.
You must see now
what I have always felt:
that I have never really belonged.

Be it hip to be square
or considered just another social wedgie
in the way, this world is surely one
of round holes,
as certain that I am
a fucked up square peg.

To remain
would mean at least one of us
must change.

Too stubborn to forget myself despite that value among the herd,
always forgetting to ignore what I have seen,
every moment must constitute compliance,
personal assistance in collective suicide,

As your inevitable collapse, the dead end
up ahead remains: to cut a deal,
to slit my own wrist. You change first
or I’m just done with it.

Can’t be part of what insists
on killing itself. To sever the tie that binds
is to endure.

I can take the cold far better
without the false promise.
Evidently warmth is a rarity
here anyway.

Flubbercheque.

Constant debt is endless dependence. Independence is not secured until the check has cleared. Guilt is emotional debt. It is an emotional sense of indebtedness to someone or something, but what serves as the currency and what is the exchange rate? We keep trying until we receive signs that we fixed what we had broken, but those signs can come from the creditor or the debtor. It is until we feel, or we feel certain as possible that that which we are indebted to feels, that we have, even when factoring in interest, provided sufficient compensation.

You are but a blind man tossing gravel at a presumed target without any notion of what would constitute auditory feedback suggesting you hit the target, operating on the faith that you will know the sound when you hear it.

Constant guilt is endless dependence. Individuality is never secured until the check stops bouncing, and this bitch is made of flubber. Emotional exchange is unregulated by an officially-sanctioned and imposed monetary system and instead left in a social climate of trade that is essentially free of collective or even mutual agreement on what constitutes fair exchange. This is in turn exacerbated by the presumptuous beliefs of most that everyone does or at least should share their sense of values.

We are borne into emotional contracts through social circumstance, in other words, never free to read and agree or disagree to the conditions, and we built the wombs for countless others to be pushed out into the world of indebitedness to us, none of whom were born free to read and agree or disagree to the conditions we etched into the stone cold cap of our hearts.

Easter for the Heretic.

Here comes Jesus cottontail,
Bound to the cross with nine inch nails
Hippity-hoppity, “Why have you forsaken me?’

This he cries, yet for our sins he dies,
while somehow also the god to whom he’s sacrificed,
honored by bunnies, chocolates and eggs on his zombie day.

Makes sense to me. Happy Zombie Jesus Day. Also consider that the last episode of this season of The Walking Dead aired the day before the celebration of the rise of a mythological savior-turned-zombie. Coincidence? I think not.

ID the Locus.

A hate to raise the dead:
to justify or just explain, despite the struggle,
despite the intimate source,
it remains difficult to ascertain.

Maybe she shaped
the mould, fated to face
the monster that she made:
just a Frankenstein fashioned
from her Jekyll,
from her Hyde.

Or maybe it is that I have utterly failed
to conquer the challenges her style
of nurture ingrained in my brain,

revealing that I am just another bottle
on the existential assembly line,
filled to the brim with what culture
and upbringing force-fed me,
a volatile mixture destined
to explode in their face:
just a guise and complex
sort of suicide.

Or life dealt me the cards, no real plan,
and its up to me to play my hand.

Sometimes it seems as if conditioned liberty
cannot, by definition, be truly free at all.
Sometimes I see that without these boundaries,
the face of seeming fate,
there would be nothing to fight,
nothing against which to define freedom.

Will I stand, will I bend,
will I break again in the pressure
of life‘s violent winds?

In the midst of the trip
between womb to tomb, it dawns:
in the end we live our own answer
to our life questions.

I Am, Then Invent the Reasons

These are the weeds in my cerebral garden.

I play dumb too often. I act surprised when I’m not. Pretend I don’t see or didn’t hear when I really did, and crystal fucking clear. I pretend to be clueless when I know all too damn well. I act forgetful when I’m just lazy or spiteful.

I ask a question I know the answer to in order to establish verbal contact with someone in order to better ascertain how they feel or, if I already know how they feel, in order to more effectively manipulate it, usually in order to either:

a, make them feel less angry or depressed in general;
b, try to make them like me more, tweak their feelings about me, or try to reverse any small-to-large emotional or social damage I’ve recently done.

I find myself saying or doing things not for doing them or obtaining the results of doing them, but for the secondary effects — having someone perceive me in a given way, for instance — as if the end ever justified the deceitful means.

I censor my own advertisements. I also use them to spread propaganda, disseminate disinformation, create diversion, draw attention. That’s all the persona really is, an advertisement for the soul allegedly locked there behind the billboard. A masque promoting what allegedly resides behind it but in truth it is — yes, sometimes revealing — but oftentimes concealing, then even revealing yet concealing (like a sports bra) and sometimes just misleading (like a push-up bra).

“You can tell the truth and walk away in a way you can’t when you tell a lie. Truth grows on its own, bears its own fruit, and needs only be picked,” so says the lame Zen monk in my head. “Lies need tending. What could be so worth the investment?”

Ever feel like you do something, and then invent the motive? Feel something and then mentally construct a phony fucking cause? Maybe we lie for we need to, and so we tend to excuse ourselves from awareness of those deceptions for to know the truth — or to even know that you do not know it as you “know“ you do — would obliterate your ego, so feeble it might be before it, how contrary it might be to it. Or maybe we lie only out of need to fill the vacuum: perhaps there are no real reasons, no motives behind our behaviors and perceptions.

I make people think I’m less aware than I really am. I make myself think that I’m more aware than I really am. Why?

Maybe I am, then invent the reasons.

I hold in emotions, but feel I have to. Its just another survival technique. Its an effect of domestication. Like a dog is trained to not simply shit whenever it needs to wherever it happens to be, but go ring a bell by the door to let it be known that they have to go outside. Domestication is all about holding it and, if you’re lucky, being permitted to let it go in the right place or the right time. Only there really is no place for me to emotionally take a dump and sometimes I fear I’m constipated, bloated, and I have no laxative and really, really don’t want to try using my finger.

On Extrasolar Eusocial Mantodea.

Consider, for the moment, that they are real. Not as apparitions, tulpas, extradimensional creatures or modern myth-making in action, hand-crafted by bad dreams inspired by mass media and then deepened and expanded through the process of incompetent hypnosis and mutual confabulation. Rather, let us consider that they are physical, extraterrestrial beings.

Well, it seems to me that their bodies should betray the conditions that shaped them, suggest what analog we might have to them in the earthly animal kingdom, and through observing their form, behavior, interactions and other such things we should gain better insight into them in general.

Cambridge University paleontologist Simon Conway Morris argues that despite the diversity of life we find on our own planet alone, the presence of convergent evolution among the widely-separated branches on the tree of life reveal that certain outcomes seem likely and even inevitable because they serve as effective means of adaptation. They serve as effective tools in a way, and they are tools suitable to a limited type of environment, behavior, diet. Gills on a creature would imply they live underwater. No eyes or analog may suggest they are subterranean. Sharp teeth would imply anything but a vegetarian diet.

In a similar vein, various characteristics of the creatures known as the Gray aliens might lead one to suspect that they are the nymph order in a species of creature that seems to constitute a nocturnal, telepathic, technologically-advanced eusocial insect species that evolved on a high-oxygen, low-gravity land planet. And now that I have turned all eyes away due to the apparent level of absurdity inherent in the previous sentence, allow me to share with you why my perhaps-malfunctioning mind has led me to this suspicion.

Their large, black eyes would at first seem to imply that they need to pick up more light than we do. Relative, of course, to our present, geocentric standpoint, this could in turn imply their planet resides farther from their star, their planet is larger, or for whatever reason has shorter daytime hours. As a survival strategy they have benefited from their big eyes being able to pick up a wider range or merely different portion of the visual spectrum. In tandem with the binocular vision, this may imply that the Grays evolved from a nocturnal predatory creature.

What type of creature, however? Despite their humanoid form, the Gray creatures encountered in alien abduction cases seem to be otherwise quite different from us. They have neither breasts to bear milk nor lips with which to suckle, and this, along with their narrow emotional spectrum, seem to indicate that whatever type of organism they prove to be, they are certainly not mammalian. As suggested by Dr. Robert Sarbacher, perhaps they are insects. That alone may provide sufficient explanation for the sizeable peepers. This would also explain their lack of ears, as they would instead have the membrane-secured air sacs known as typanal organs, this serving is the insect correlate.

The insect idea does not seem to offer an explanation for the form of the body, but the varying potential environments may. Despite the need for the “goldilocks” habitable zone around the star, it does not presume that a life-giving star would have to be like our star, that a life-bearing planet must be a carbon copy of earth. Instead, the Zone of the “Just Right” around a star depends on the type and size of the star relative to the proximity, type and size of the life-planet. This zone we imagine is always defined by conditions we are familiar with here on earth, however, though for all we know these specific conditions may in fact be unimportant to life elsewhere in the cosmos. Even here on earth, extremeophiles living in their black-or-white environments would seem to imply that life may develop, adapt, even thrive in conditions we, in our continuous unconscious indecent activity of “anthropomorphobating,” would surely expect to find lifeless.

The quest for explanation, rather than defense, stretches further than the nauseating “argument from ignorance” I just fashioned above, however. According to David Aguilar in the third episode in the third season of UFO Hunters, the tall, thin, spindly bodies and proportionally large craniums implies they come from a planet with less gravity than earth, where it would be easier to walk upright and where such thin bodies would be in a position where they would be able of propping up those gargantuan gourds. To evolve a body that does not require muscle tone or bone density in such a low-gravity environment would be advantageous as well, as it would free them from the extreme degrees of exercise that would otherwise be required.

In addition to this is the fact that the Grays fail to display any suggestion of having a bone structure. If they are insects, the lack of a flesh-sealed endoskeleton would make perfect sense. Rather than bones and skin, an insect has an exoskeleton composed of three layers: the basement membrane, the epidermis, and the outermost layer, known as the integument. In larval form, the integument is a hard, lightweight outer cuticle, which is white, pliable and elastic. According to Jacobs, the “skin” of the small Grays bears “a soft rubbery or plastic quality,” which appears to match up quite well. The integument undergoes a process called sclerotization in insect adults in which it darkens and toughens, though remains flexible, perhaps corresponding to the “rough, leathery feel” of the Taller Gray. Sometimes the Taller Beings are also described as having wrinkles; similarly, with some spiders, a new exoskeleton is often wrinkled as the old exoskeleton could not provide enough space for the larger replacement growing beneath it.

While identical in form save for the height difference in hierarchy, many of the Grays, despite their popular name, come in different colors. Pitch black, pale white, and in some cases even blue — at least according to early results of cross-analysis of abduction reports from MUFON’s Abduction Transcription Project. One means of natural camouflage the aliens may share with some species of the earthly Mantis is the ability to adapt the color of their exoskeleton to their surroundings. Called ‘fire melanism’, such Mantis species have the capability to change the color of their exoskeleton after their next molt so that, for instance, they can adapt to the black color of scorched earth rather than remaining green, which served as sufficient camouflage in their formerly grassy habitat. The Transcription Project also revealed that the rooms observed by abductees when aboard the craft were white, gray and, more rarely, black.

Another characteristic that the insect interpretation might explain is their apparent lack of breathing. Instead of using lungs, insects take in oxygen through tiny holes in the sides of their exoskeletons known as spiracles, which open and close as the abdominal muscles expand and contract. Due to the characteristics which imply they are insects despite their large size, they would have to come from a planet with a higher oxygen content than the earth, however, as the upper limit on the body size of an insect is dictated by the degree of oxygen in the atmosphere due to the limitations of the spiracle form of breathing. The current oxygen composition of the earth’s atmosphere presently rests at around 21% and could not support insects the size of the Grays. In earth’s past, however, Lady Gaea was a real airhead. During the Carboniferous period, some 359.2 million years ago, the earth’s peak oxygen content came to be roughly 35%, permitting gigantism for both the amphibians and arthropods, with the largest insects being about a foot and a half long.

A planet bearing a high oxygen content and low gravity, however, would seem to provide the necessary conditions for the Grays to evolve. This does not help to explain how they can exist within the atmosphere and gravity of earth for at least a given amount of time, during which they have both amazing strength and evidently no problem bolting down hallways at record speed. The heightened gravity and lowered oxygen, one would think, would have to be an obstacle for such an insect species. It is known that by closing their spiracles and trapping air some insects can exist in an underwater environment for extensive periods; by an analogous process, perhaps the aliens can exist for extensive periods in an environment of depleted oxygen by “holding their breath.” That still fails to explain their capacity to move so swiftly and have such strength, however, and brings us back to the other issue that would come with living in a low-gravity environment: muscles must be exercised. Use it or lose it.

That they have an endoskeleton rather than skin could answer other perplexing questions, however. For instance, their source of sustenance, means of consumption and process of eliminating waste at first appears to be an unknown. There have been no reports of aliens having to leave to take a leak or a shit. They lack anuses and butt cheeks, however, so perhaps this is for food reason. Neither has anyone has ever seen them eating or drinking to my knowledge. Those are not functional mouths. There are no visible jaws. No lips, teeth or tongues. No varying degree of tummy protrusion, nor waistline to look below.

However humanoid they may be, they are not at all similar to our mammalian physiology. The typical insect mouth-parts are also lacking on the Gray, however. Antennae, the appendages that serve as the typical insect correlate to the sense of taste and smell, are absent as well. Admittedly, smell is indirectly and more weakly related to food, as it may also serve to pick up pheromones and so be related to mating — for that purpose alone it may have been selected for through the process of evolution given the fairly central survival advantage of getting laid and bear no relation to eating in such a scenario, at least in the sense of literal food. Still, one must admit that sensing pheromones would seem rather ludicrous given the apparent lack of a puckered snuggle-crevice or germ-line-jettisoning goods to back up the olfactory advertisement. Grays lack any visible sex organs. Clearly, however, taste is dead central to eating. And there have been no reports of them eating with their ill-equipped mouths, at least of which I am aware.

There have, however, been peculiar reports regarding them entirely submerged in tanks of liquid without any evident breathing apparatus, like enduring, full-body baptisms. Many abductees have also described being thrown into vats of liquid, as David Jacobs describes in his book Secret Life. In one man’s experience (though not from Jacob’s book), he described that he could breathe in the liquid, swallow it while he was submerged and he would eat it and piss it out. He described, in other words, the fluids capacity to serve as a self-recyclable substitute for air and sustenance. In addition, alien-looking young are described as being “painted” with a substance as a form of nursing.

This again turns attention to the exoskeleton. Akin to an insect’s spiracles, every part of a plant respires or “breathes” through microscopic pores, which allow it to inhale and exhale in a process known as diffusion. In addition to breathing, however, plants also use these pores to acquire the ingredients necessary to manufacture their own food. Chlorophyll, which gives plants their green color, collects sunlight and carbon dioxide from the leaves as well as the water, nutrients and minerals that the roots have collected from the soil. From these ingredients the chlorophyll, through a process known as photosynthesis, whips up some simple sugars to serve as sustenance and poops the waste product, oxygen, out through its pores and into the air. Perhaps excreting waste through their exoskeletons is the sole avenue of dispelling waste for aliens void of anuses, albeit in the fart-reminiscent fashion of diffusing that waste as a gas through their spiracles.

An obvious reason to speculate that the Grays are insects, however, is given the nature of their ultimate authorities. At the bottom of the chain of command are the Small Grays, which certainly constitute the workers, and overseeing and directing them are the Tall Grays. They step in to perform more specialized procedures, such as those having to do with the sexual organs and the probing Mindscan telepathy preformed on the abductee. The female Tall Beings perform all the activities the males do, and in addition tend to the children in the nurseries. Above the Tall Gray presides the Mantis beings, often additionally distinguished by wearing a cloak or a robe. It is they who appear to be the ultimate puppet masters, pulling all the strings.

These Mantis beings, as I’ve chosen to call them, are creatures that often remind abductees of seven-foot-tall preying mantises, less often a giant grasshopper or ant. Aside from all sharing the characteristics of being insects, mantises are often mistaken for grasshoppers. In addition, while the young mantis often appears as merely a mini-me of the adult version, in some species the young nymphs appear as dark ants and only take on the form of the adult mantises slowly, throughout a series of molts. Also relevant is the fact that while resembling the Mantis species we are familiar with here on earth, descriptions and drawings of these creatures make it clear that with their spindly bodies and huge, wrap-around eyes that they also share characteristics with both the Taller Grays and the Smaller Grays.

Insects develop in one of two styles. Holometabolous insects develop through “complete metamorphosis” consisting of four stages: egg, larval stage, the inactive state called either pupa or chrysalis, and finally the adult stage known as imago. Hemimetabolous insects develop through three states of “incomplete metamorphosis” in which they molt and emerge in their new skin and size, perhaps even a new form. The Mantis species we know of are hemimetabolous, which is to say that they are first an egg, then a nymph, and finally an imago. During the nymph stage, however, they undergo stages of gradual metamorphosis referred to as instars. They dawn between each molt until sexual maturity, never entering a pupil stage. Nymphs are normally similar to the adults save for their size, their absence of genitalia and, in some species, their color and the absence of wings. In some species, however, the nymphs are morphologically distinct from adults, appearing similar to ants.

From the abduction literature, it appears to me there are three distinct orders in alien society: the small grays, the tall grays and the mantis. The three orders in the alien hierarchy are distinguished by morphology. All orders are distinguished by height. The four orders, from bottom to the top, show that each is characterized not only by heightened social rank and physical form but also the increased degree of personal identity, the further specialization in tasks, the greater development and use of telepathy. This implies to me that they are the same species, merely at different stages of development. If they are indeed an insect species, these three stages would imply that, like the Mantis species we know, they develop through the triple-staged incomplete metamorphosis.

Even in the Grays there is, despite the lack of genitalia, the strong sense of a gender. Both female and male genders have been encountered at every caste, including the mantis levels. If it is not mere projection on the part of the abductee, it might stem from the fact that while still at the stage of the Grays they cannot reproduce as they have not yet developed the plumbing required, that sex is already determined and plays a role in their neurology, if nothing else, and so is consequently conveyed in their telepathy.

All known species of Mantis are solitary insects, however, and this would certainly constitute a eusocial insect species, as they bear the three characteristics of eusociality: a caste system, a group rather than parental rearing of offspring, and an overlap in the generations that allows for the elder generation to educate the younger. The alien society displays all three.

An insect colony divides labor according to four castes or less, depending on the particular species. The top two castes are reproductive castes, composed of the Gynes or queens and the Drones or kings. The bottom two castes are comprised of the sterile Workers, who perform the labor, and Soldiers, involved in defending the colony against enemies. An insect colony requires some means of communication. One generation educating another would appear to involve both observation for mimicry and communication, which typically involves pheromones or, as in the case with honey bees, a symbolic dance language. Rather than communicating by means of odor and movements, however, the aliens appear to rely on telepathy as their main mode of communication.

These four castes are further distinguished in one two fashions. They can be distinguished by polyphenism, which is to say with respect to their morphology, and so inevitably die in the caste they entered at birth. Alternatively, the castes can instead bear age polytheism, where the elder generation of the worker caste educates the younger and duties are defined in accordance with age.

The Mantis species we know of undergo incomplete metamorphosis, however, so their morphology changes as they grow. What style, then, would they adopt or evolve? Judging from abduction reports, the alien mantises appear to oversee, educate, and intervene in the duties being carried out by the tall grays, each of which in turn oversee, educate, and intervene in the duties being carried out by their group of small grays. This would imply the education culminates in a graduation, making it distinct from the Hindu-like quality of polyphenism. In other words, their species might organize their society by age, with the parallel morphological distinction only incidental.

The Grays are a worker cast of nymphs, with the Tall Grays representing some later instar of the nymph as a lead worker and the Mantis, of course, emerging as the ultimate imago on the uppermost hierarchal level of an advanced telepathic and technologically-equipped eusocial insect species.

Cultivation of Froth.

It’s a dog eat dog world
a planet saturated with rabid blood lust
each hungry for their day
or feeling, in the very least, entitled
to their dog-given fifteen
fucking minutes of fame.

And that’s more
than enough time to bark
one’s bark before the keen ears
of the greater pack,

you can already hear
brothers and sisters howling back,
alphas whimpering, tales curled
back to their bellies,
head bowed as they bolt
on into oblivion.

Flee the mutiny,
ineffectual leaders of the pack.
All top-dog bitches and mutts be damned.

Bark a booming bark spiked with charisma.
The louder, the more truthful.
The more convincing, the more factual.
Exploit those unreliable default shortcuts
so prevalent in their patterns of thinking

for info-bites dine on your mind
spreading rabid propaganda
in this putrid pound
of mad, cannibal canines.

No Infodelity.

They won’t think about it,
take the time to contemplate what flies
in the face of tradition,
popularity, authority.

Afraid of memes?
Build up your psychological immune system.
Dare to mingle among the infected.

They act as if they are cheating
on their source of information
with another source.

I guess their god is really jealous.

They are not cheating, though.
Exploring or experimenting
with new or different ideas isn’t cheating.

There is no such thing as infodelity.

Cobwebs and Skin.

Just an aged spider
who knows all too well the ropes,
webbing up excerpts, broken shards
bring them together
like prey being bound, wound in a cocoon,
then crushed with the mighty pressure
behind the madness
of this ruthless analysis,

eyes of dissection fixed
on the seductress, teeth piercing flesh
to draw out meaning once again.

It’s okay.
She has a masochistic bent.

Just a parasitic,
predatory itch for gnosis,
psychic rash raging red, spreading
to infect the inner eye.

Soon the thirst simply
saturates, the cup runneth
over with fluid vacuum.

Naturally you abhor drowning
in ignorance, watching as this cerebral starvation
transmutes into a feeding frenzy,
yet: now its consume in lust or bust,
making up for time lost is a must,
so sink the teeth in,
motherfucker.

“Till I die or the well runs dry”
is the battle-cry.

Just a silly serpent stretching
to swallow his meal,
mouth far bigger
than even his own beady eyes,

slithering sacrificed, now bound
by the anchor in his gut
until he manages
to successfully
subject it to digestion,
an alchemy that refines

this weight
into fuel for his ongoing

mission beneath the veiled sun
in the seeming ruins of to be
building up such calloused skin
just to cask away the husk,
bear hypersensitivity
feeling rocks violently crafted by eons
of relentless waves
on his way to bathe alone in the sun,
then retreat into a dark,
earthen womb, only to later emerge
bearing armor of new skin
and renewed vitality.