can we remember Shanley

for when she got it right?

Because sure she was the PUSSY RIOT of silicon

Valley SJWs but no tits so GTFO

no really, where are the boobs–

but then also, Model View Culture.

new voices to renew, grow and subdue

men feartrembled in the spotlight

when she pointed her finger

INCOMING

so many expletives JESUS

the bombs and tears, wrung hair in hand

urge to pet her head chill sweetie,

empress grace rewound like cassette tape

into a yapping chihuahua

Go home you drunk

shock and awe reverb effect

but come on let’s be real,

the performance is taxing, it would make anyone crack

what do you think dating weev would do?

NOT inspire your inner extremest?

not every woman can be

your super poised princess

on the verge of being

a great warrior Queen,

feminist supreme

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happy to see Tila Tequila, one of the first e-celebrities, is finally posting normal shit on her blog. I wrote this poem about her last week:

was tila tequila trolling us

unintentionally?

see weird al javkovich today

with his orb, big metal spoon

her first attempt, Asian stereotype?

MySpace is your space big eyes blink

sex sidekick turned into

Juggalos throwing poop amid big boos

Then you had the hitlers

the conspiracy theories like alex jones and group stalking

videos peering in at her space except now it was exposed wrong

gnawing off the edge

she was eating the ether, empty vessel

light rushing straight into the brain, frozen

by the side of the road in a symbol

mimicking the Illuminati.


I see the New York Times hates 1 World Trade Center, recognizes how bad it is.  Good. It’s a piece of shit. I wrote a poem about it, how it broke my heart:

I’m angry at the 1

World Trade Center

it’s horrible

an original vision stray and lonely

reacting to fear

floors devoted to concrete, glass bent

of sturdy solitary

crude fortifications, a reminder for when

they were two, standing there

looking at the sunrise on the sea,

out to harbor saying hello duo

Liberty winking, a memory

now just one

child of greed and ambition, scrambled shape

to hide the wound, steeled in place

a lifeless echo, echo of everything and the void

wrapped around a towering rod

reaching for radio waves and emitting

to the lost

“come find me”

 


gamergate best thing for SJWs prop OH

ganja

fourth wave feminist, network net worth

infiltrate the media in acts

you will see, it is about ethics in video games

not

bullies in headlights, right-wing vultures punishing harlots, men

harassing from on high, opera tune twist the knife

SJWs in IRC chat rooms

who is spy and who is snitch,

who is Queen SJW riding in the night

on brooms of illusion, in flew ants and army

gamers defeated by women on TV, how pathetic

rings the inner sneer

consumer cultured in a petri dish, cap it all off

with a ban on matter and polarity tricks

grumble, shade and nod, in ether out of acorns and Briar Wood

a struggle to accept what they’ve been denying, lying

what balance is here

because EQUAL

and your tea

are the same thing


thou cyber sand (Twitter Poem #4)

The Funny Thing about Twitter:

 

the other day  “roman sandals” appeared

twice on my twitter

profile page

Some time later, romansandals starts following me

 

Romans:  stealer of gods but not the  shoe soles of whores

I am wary-

in bare cyber space, more than one user

leads to no safe place

so I leave no indent in the dirt, no greek tweet

and romansandals offers no akolouthi,

no use of language, or other “come follow me”

 

a user with more than

a thousand to read

a thousand to mark

a thousand for triumph, esteem

a thousand for fanning the line

 

romansandals leads me to a blog that exists

and no viral ambush awaits

in the given net space, but

another affront:

shoes and paparazzi, the Furies of celebrity

and the cheapness of the page, the turning

of the same old tricks

slur the said citizen in me

 

what roman sandals are these?

no Romans walked in sandals like these!

where is the sure-footed confidence?  the feeling of weight placed,

equal on each side

the sense of purpose and physical pride-

give and take, to communicate?

 

Instead, I am offered the burden of never-ending youth

and the pain of a crooked spine

I shunned the offer,

and as the oracles in the ether  said,

it came to pass

 

romansandals no longer acknowledges me

#FF #FTW


The internet can be kind too, like an older brother…

In lieu of the New York Times article “Little Brother is Watching” , I thought I’d update this blog (omg, not since 9/11!!!) with a poem I performed twice in the Spring/Summer of 2009, at the Green Mill’s Uptown Poetry Slam Open Mic Night.

I could write out everything in the below poem in response to Walter Kirn, but I am lazy, and hate repeating myself. Read the rest of this entry »