telekat #2017 songs

living off a lien

This one 
steady preaching 
weakening the
room

against my
desire

flattening life
down to matte finish
matinees

i tried to scream
it stole my breath

i was downcast
the entire day
overcast and
thrown

against my 
desire

i woke up 
in the middle of the night
pulled its guts out
 the wall

it tried to scream
i stole the breath 

imagine waking up
to calm

mammoth fronds 
blown off the palms 
gone with the wind

we survived fallin'
tree cartilage
for 24 hours 
or more

woke up
to quiet calm

the fire
inside me
inside you

the desire

it was
    not mine

living off a lien
in twenty
 fifteen

killbot 2000. soul reclamation.

'people work better when driven (insane)' -part ix / x
originally published on kissilent.wordpress.com


Some money making murder mystery venture was proposed, to save the world. But money could not help us now. Unless we wanted to sit on a sidewalk in san francisco. For the park-your-ass meters. To keep the park-your-ass enforcers off your ass. You got to have dry wall for brains or some quiet desperation, to wake up one day and decide to act out by some innovation on pickpocketing. But that’s exactly what happened, when it was clear the world was not for saving. Maybe the whales, but not the world. Just as Steve Jobs and crew were in his garage creating the macintosh… just as Packard and Hewlett were in a garage creating the printer…simultaneously as all garage bands ever were in their garages plugging in and cranking their amps to eleven… some asshole was learning how to steal your identity in his parents’ garage (because i am sure he didn’t own a garage, himself, not yet anyway).

So we take the good and the bad, together, naturally. All of those garage experiments evolved into cottage industries and then empires, over the course of thirty years or more. While you and me were coming home from work (or not), and planted in front of the TV. Could we reclaim all those hours lost in front of the former tube now pixelated flatscreen phenom, we may have devoted them to better causes than working our marvelous retinas into a pulp.

People work better when driven. Better than being coaxed into a couch, sucked into that singular, savage and brutal addiction to the once marvel of engineering become luxury item become mass-produced producer of idiocy via artificial contrived morality tales to snakeskin sales pitch to fear-propagating political weaponry, become feng shui killbot 2000, become that which we must now look out for as gravity takes it from the arms (through the window, above us) of the desperate if not suicidal multitudes who, having lost all personal integrity and dignity to the thing, found, in reactionary thoughtfully thoughtless rage, immediate end to the problem and all its projected yet false happenings which made superfluous the very lifeblood flowing through any man or woman or child. To the sole singular purpose of pressing a few simple buttons to todays essential pseudo life-giving (soul stealing) contrivance or advertisement or other lobotomized offal better known to drainage pipes and sewer systems and other some such forgotten, abandoned, set away from human senses so as not to offend, offenders of our tentative and more than ever before gelatinous hold on society…finally did the right (though mad) thing by throwing another sorry-assed lightbox out the nearest window…. which, i propose, never would have happened, had they not been driven insane.

The day the dining room table lost all popularity

America 2009. A year i filed down and compressed for easy retrieval. No time machine needed. Just a can opener. Contents preserved in a secret preservative recipe.

A partial list of contents:
 red vines
chocolate lucky charms (magically suspicious)
wildhorse cig filters
ambien and vinegar base

Embedded on a portable storage device, on a bed of lettuce. From a head of lettuce, intangible. Probability equations of course were lost in translation. The unzipping of the full body suit. Probability became as dead to mathematics as Latin was to language. The odds of this statement being true, were known to be high. Gamblers gambled...and still lost. They tucked their leftover singles, reluctantly, on the B-side of her G-string, to the sad key of E minor.

2009 thus unpacked - what did it represent anymore? ... Seemed encouraging. Music penetrated my everything. Seasons tended to be blended. Winters on ice. Summers were generally not so hot and not so nice. Like writers experiencing blocks. People of substance endured them anyway. Substances were often involved, on the dating scene. Substances on a night out with any person of questionable substance, directly caused symmetric convolution. Translation? the convolution kernel would be symmetric across its zero point.

Doors sometimes revolved. Some who found themselves in revolving doors, also happened to be of the subset of the census who found themselves utterly discouraged to the point of crashing by the very mention of anything impacting the convolution kernel's zero point. Thankfully, neither you nor me.

Ecosystems often were impacted, too, in 2009. Both internal and external ecosystems. Either dissolved or evolved. Costly checking accounts were erroneously freed by a stubborn corporate culture way too far into the black. Back to black was an unknown concept back then. 2009. Credit cards given freely to anyone who was not fiscally unsound aka poor aka in need of a fucking credit card. Checking in often preceded and followed, checking out. Soon due to a conservative movement to decentralize government and put Sarah Palin in power, there would be no checking in at all. Only checking out. And everyone and my bad self checked the fuck out. Swearing aloud became commonplace, especially in liberal google plus circle infancy.

TVs everywhere hosted purportedly independent families everywhere. The dining room table (as a form for function) lost all popularity. Despite immaculate credibility. At least someone was doing the dishes. TVs hosted families. A subset grew into a superset. Television set (itself) to the task of Interplanetary Expressing its bad self to the surrounding planets in a vacuum-sealed space capsule. Today interplanetary aliens are still staring down the fork of a strange plug attached to a ridiculous,useless device. Earth looks bad. Mars (earth's sponsor) turns a deeper shade of red.

This unzipped post is to be continued at a time yet to be determined by the no-name almost famous author and blogger extraordinaire, who has reached a zero point of her own particular patience kernel. And thankfully so, remarked the always difficult to impress and ever so fashionable, Zoe.