Before 911 there was the making of the faking-it
matrix , the exploit joint with questionable diligence
and a one trick policy fix fanning the fantasy of fandom, tinsel tactile institutions substituting for hands
on wheel feel freedom.
Before 911 the aching was still in the making,
thoughts processed for domination not oblivion, not yet so hyped for the hot
There was laughter as the propaganda ops got
topped up to cover slights and slaughters, and after, applying fuzzy eye muzzly logic, still getting a buzz from the benefits of the
Before 911 the fiction flippers, roasted in
education minus realization or operational mirrors, masked their faces with
nurturing numbness, not wanting to leave any traces of fabrications. Keeping on creeping on.
Before 911 concern
turned on the dotcom will scam wisdom of the gizmo
geniuses perfecting the art of the stock market sneak and the feeding back of circuitboard circuses to packs of public stretched out on
the consumer rack.
On 911 one more time one more horror howled
homeless and jetted, vetted in hatred, into the jungle of the lawman , into a
symbolic bottleneck, junking the symmetry of hegemony. Ground zero unzipped in
the west. Agonized eyes, more used to earnest anesthesia, zooming in on the the zeitgeist, in the zone of the mass moan. A one hit weirded out wonder flying the wrong way down monster lane.
Then after that the chant became a rant
rendering fender-bendering of everyone’s rights to be
human beings unbound and everything got piped thru the annihilation migraine.
No one in an official node getting the nod or the nudge to take a chainsaw to
the mendacity or to the official avenger agenda , a
chaser for the policy swallowing imperial pact,
flexible pretext for amending what matters most, to most people, into
the shape of a pretzel, and official death
for the unseemly undefended(kept undefined) -- guilt and innocence just concept confabs for
spinning epistemologies out of their moulds, graspless, for the good cause of hegemony perks for jerkoffs
to puff up their peak performances
And the only drawback is the slo
mo blowback of the limbless and the grimness periodically making it on
television shaming the sham for a brief trash flash, but hardly any reprimand
as the loonie-land band plays lunatic loops for the
well armed and the dangerously inane.
The chances of cracking open this continuum:
slim; the temptation of power, the original sin, older than the sun, pulling on the
The hat , for pulling
out of , sits on the table, triggered to
be tripped --- pull the rabbit out of
the facts or take the trap.
Before 911 there was a waiting list for wish
lists, now wish lists are hit listed, confrontation spiked.
Whistle whilst walking past the planet of
alienated apes working themselves into a state of hate
and hit harder, whilst charting out a no nuance map
Out on the edge of the pledge of ignorance
Where the glory glow won’t hold, where war won’t ingratiate fate or satiate
the autoerotic suck up of other people’s pluses, an autonomic reaction of the wizzes of biz and bombing to make it better, giving even
their own gods the jitters as they incant smash and grab because they can
without even a self conscious cough , leaving the tab for the titillated bit
player taxpayers and jilted grunts at the front , while laptoppin’
Homers leave digital skid marks to skim the news to be behind the lines.---
Wars of weaseled words and thought blocked talk of war
dimming the cognitive content of the killing component in the the war stimulating process.
And while there’s visions like the fission
decision in a long ago lab telling there’s something that should
be shook off , there’s no resisting the sizzle of a little insanity encoding
the coldness of rationale,
enfolding all resources simultaneously into a cemetery for
all systems. And you don’t need a hounddog to pick up
the scent of something rotten in the state of denial.
There’s no more before 911
kinda raison d’etre to sweat thru and call out for a
few new hand eye coordination schematics to reset this glory glitched
hypnotic trance -- no more war dances. No more post 911 lemon trances.