Monday, May 13, 2013

dont forget the ark was filled with animal shit. and humans. and god never flooded the shit outta their souls.


dont scratch. dont fucking scratch.  scratching makes it worse.  makes it spread. everyone living at garden levels eyes are pinker and swollener than baboon pussies.  were they able to crack their congealed lids they will only see sheets of golden discharge falling from crusty lashes.  the smell is worse but they were used to it by now.  used to the smell and to the incessantcrawlingsensation.  in order to feel parasites too small to see there have to be millions of them.  hordes of them writhing in and out of  their flesh’s thinnest neighborhoods. skins and flaccid assholes.  mucous membranes.  the babies don’t cry and the kids don’t scratch.  now the youngest look forward to  each steaming emission from above.  the softest thing .  the warmest thing.  their only comfort in the darkness//

illinois is flat as road gum so chicago’s skyline sticks out like #morningwood at scout camp. the michigander gazes at the immensity of  the sears tower.  how many square feet of floor space in it? how many square feet of floor space there are in every business and residence in ferndale?  ferndale is pleasant suburb that is delightfully ignorant of the fact that its pleasantness is the result of international american military bullying and eleven-year-old children building laptops, making shoes, mining diamonds, and being pimped in other countries.  for real tho. 

could the whole city be moved into a single tower?  when driving one is prone to wonder and manic bursts of imagination. how much material could be saved in power lines, electrical cables and water pipes if it just ran floor to floor and didn’t sprawl out over miles squared? no more roads. no driveways. or parking lots. how much land could go fallow and heal?  all cars gone- just trains running from tower to tower- miles of newly virgin forest in between.  the air unshackled from chemicals free to be blue again or free to divest itself of toxic neon sunsets for more subtle tho richer purples and tangerines.  food distribution solved.  the poor could get it fresh rather than nutrients leaving their cities for richer tables in the far white hinterlands then boomeranging back to indifferent liquor stores wilted and rotten.  maybe the passenger pigeon would come out of hiding. the globe would stop warming.  imagine a whole city composting together.  reclaiming the water from every shower everyflush to water the plants.  a school on every floor.  no more 315 fear of cars or pederasts or basement #MeowMeowSnortingSessionsOrWhateverIsTheNewDrugThatA33YearOldWriterDoesntFuckingKnowAboutTilItsNotCoolAnymore/SomeoneEatsSomeoneElsesFaceOFF.  consolidated resources both human and material.  no more commuting means more time for loved ones for leisure for creation for thinking big ideas.

people only like new ideas when everything else gets totally fucked.  what crisis can u imagine could make this drivers daydream come true? imminent environmental disaster like antarctica melting sea level rising new york sinking holy shit richwhitepeople are homeless so we gotta act?  what about when america realizes that theyve taken everything from every other country and theres nothing left to take and the economy never goes back to where it was in the 90s cuz that’s why we had so much cuz we took it from everyone else and ate it and shit it out and  then middleclasswhitepeople become poorpeople so we gotta act?  or what if people that live in places that america bombs everyday start bombing in america once a week and some whitepeople #die so we gotta act?

so the tower must be built.  and everyone can have a room like in the ark.  even all the people of ferndale or lilburn or hoover or whatever suburb or village or township you live in thats gotten fat sucking blood out of the biomass that congregates in storied population centers then leaves that city a vampire half dead forever but never dying just hated and feared. the beef is bulldozed.  a new city will stand gleaming in the clouds.  the asphalt duct tape will b ripped off the earths mouth and it  will recount a tale of captivity to the news media exclusively in flowers. 

but who will build the tower? who has the money and resources and management skills to kick start the project? to get it shovel ready? the businessclass.  at first the businessclass hate it.  they need freedom.  they need to sell more cable and roadways and charter schooling.  but one courageous man believes.  mike gilbert believes.  in the city.  in its POTENTIAL.  he can build capitol tower.  and make it beautiful. and give us jobs.  and homes.  and restaurants.

and everyone moves in.  its exciting. for a while.

but mike doesnt like the smells of weirdfoodcooking.  the music and the loud talkingfuckinglaughingfighting.  how can he think with these distractions? how can he contribute? he is able to contribute.  he is the contributor.  give him what he needs and ALL WILL prosper.  the management relocates his neighbors.  and moves mike to the top floor.  he needs a buffer. 

he gets stopped and thanked all the time.  he spends too much time talking to residents to contribute.  the management builds a special elevator for all of the contributors and management to zip quickly past.  the tower needs more green energy.  management covers all the windows in solar panels.  just not the contributors.  they need to look out over big picture.  thinking big means making good choices.  leaders need to make good choices for those they lead or the led wud b lost.

theres a lot of people in the tower.  a lot of people make a lot of noise and distractions and conversation and a lot poop.  the management doesnt like all the poop.  mike doesnt like poop.  poop was not part of the capitol city plan//

you see where im going with this?  that this little fable ends with ends with gilbert and co dumping their poop on poor people at the bottom of the tower who wind up in the not so distant future like blind cave fish swimming in rich mens shit.  it seems a preposterous way to end a story.  cheesy and over the top.  but look around you.  we are swimming in the shit of our oppressors and it does seem preposterous but its real.  real shitty. i thought the tower would b fucking awesome.  then my friend drew said that the rich would just find a way to empty their toilets into the apartments of the poor.  Maybe philanthropy is an act of oppression.  a tether to someoneelse’s system of benefit.  the bumpers in bowlingalleygutters but the man gobbles up your ballsandpins at the end anyway.  the good revolution will be so slow you wont be able to see it happening.  that way the people can edit the process.  can respond. can grow with the revolution. one piece of shit fertilizes a river of shit posions #KnowWhatIMean?




Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Buttons

One day we'll release all the buttons-
First from their holes
Their jobs as dams as dikes
As unwavering supporters
and secret keepers.
Then we will untie them from their shirts
From pants and jackets
And tell them to go free.

I'm sure they will be scared at first
Purposeless
Rolling around and free
Forgotten in pockets and pavements
Seat cushions and subways.

And we too will be scared.
To have it all out there and shit.
To let our soft bellies hang out under and through
Now shapeless swaddles.

And we will have to remake our bodies
When we can't rely on those cute little buttons to hold us in
To hold us back
To hide our softnesses
Or we will have to remake our minds about our bodies
And live with our bellies our softnesses
Or even love them.

And buttons must have long lives
Made of bone or metal
Or plastic
So sturdy in structure and small enough
Where the leverage of the universe seldom deigns to turn it on itself.
A button has time then
To learn a new life
To hear a new call
To let new things through its open heart
That you and I and it may not ever
Or not yet
Dream of.