PREDATOR
DRONE
by Caz Wallace
The validity of poetry is always humbling
always turning onto itself back onto itself
away from the socious
away from the individual
toward reference
and that glint of something else
The poet properly belongs nowhere
to be invisible and silent
true poetry is never to be thought
least of all transcribed
true poetry resides in the in between
the synapses and the temporal lobe
in textbooks as science
and the bleeding colors as passe
Neither here nor there
not to be penned nor pinned down
a point to one voice initiates a sea
and I will drown
Soft and muted
as a hope.
Poetry is emancipation for every edit is a crime
and I prefer to be a murderer
killing old thoughts
drawn out and out dated
strangle the old mutated
until no more breath is wasted
and then pray for immaculate conception
Dear God,
Give me a baby that I don’t want to drown
Bless me with patience and intuition’s tongue
poetry is the art of mouth,
disturbed
sensations of insemination and vision blurred
A waking from poesis
a stuttered step
vehement volition
candid and weighty bets
philosophies guard against
tendencies of man
soul’s passions and lusts give
their demands
Destruction is the mind’s path
beyond and then again
that certain monogamy of apartheid
present everyday
we care for victims beauty
prolonging death and its decay
-a life of pouted lips
and unpaid debts
archivists beat out anarchists
collectors and their conclaves
and the hanged man
suspended
initiates a sway
Neptune’s tides:
much like the sensation of reaching
to stumble at a
lightness
surprised by a relative
strength is a
realization
and a
mourning
The crimes of dystopic times
signs and moons foretold
of a happenstance
fated chance
A throw of dice is known
A resurgence of plasticity
No one has a name
A resurgence of plasticity
Biologies rendered lame
And do you know your face?
contorting and distorting
atoms quivering to give way
contriving the pyschicism of schizophrenia
-Keep your seizures hidden
Touch wisdom of monkey brains
yellow piss stains,
militaristic refrains, and punks.
A single generation of men
bore such miraculous and beautiful sins
Hostility combs itself:
no sounds escape the mourning
infinite in repose
wrinkled lips slip
the olive from pick
like wolves tearing meat from the bone
In basements jeans are loosened
and subtle sex encompases shadows
One time use
cameras document
the whole debased affair:
eyelids heavy- brows salty
sticky tongues
dirty fingers
It’s not enough to want, why not
seduce and then fuck
and turn your back on those you did once love
So that empathy and apathy
become the same
as absolution remains
bad is good redemption
Get hooked like the fish by your ribs
Laughter echoes
haunting and
disjunctive
What is the value of a slew of words
And what contempt does one engender
in grasping at an inspiration
in proximity to oblivion
In the happening of nothingness
meantimes and waning hours
dance with yourself in
horizontal sleeplessness
floating in and out of days
two pm sadness
equals a 4 pm drunk
which turns into a 6pm madness
and an 8 pm despondent fuck
and strangers turned to lovers
which never ceases to erupt
until the day turns on again
and what was night is now light
and memories solidify
into solitary kindness
representative of artness
and pompous sureness
of a future gladness
of a current malaise
For there’s nothing for tomorrow
But the presence of today
In silence is a brimming
Sanctity forgiving
of depressive headlines
and premenatory out clause
legally unbinding yet
socially imprisoning
round about declarations
followed by definitive
signs steeped in inevitability
of further weakening
which leads to solidarity
to a cause still unknown
Ahead and out of place
wondering relentlessly
head throbbing
heart palpitating
till cum drips down the back
lay patiently till a towel
or a sock is thrown your way
and then venture off unenthused
Because it seemed more seductive
than catching a mirror
drooping eyelids and sagging breasts
and skin stretched from voraciousness
because hedonism can’t satisfy
a hunger for the horizon
Noting the carriage of pain:
Eternal feedback loops
Psychedelics can only imitate the real
to seize and seize it all
fornication
drugs
remorse
there are other deaths than being poor
and no wrong way to love a whore
Sign the contract.
To be a predator drone
know no boundaries
built on excess
no remorse
no thought
no vanity
or pride
violence is love
endless and terrifying
It drifts away
for a cause
obtuse in unattainability
The revolution of nothing
Subsumed by psychotic retribution
religion uncoded and harsh
Our politics are the tail
caught in the snake’s fangs
Choose the lesser in your mind
and let your big thighs part
To do what you want
seduced by decay
Rituals of the day
give way
In night eros erupts
Moonchildren of androgyny
hearing evolution’s plea
Transforming flesh
in reverence
conquering anxieties of the machine
In out on
The planets obey commands
from energy set it motion
long before the plight of man
The future grasping never is
Intensities outmoded maths
technology emblematic
A humming to embark
Disengaged, the lonely system
For new noise silence listens
The failures past up for redemption
In our hands the once imprisoned
Knowledge breeds like never before
Spontaneous in discord
readying for uproad
Enmeshment of thought
No punishment as justice
No tactics of oppression
We are the lush and loveless
With contingency out of mind
We are like pomegranates
Let me be that rough beast
SCHIZOMAGIC 