Kali 2.0

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I am the blue pill

The Id

The I

The It

That’s me

Who is me?

I am the red pill

The hidden

The disguised

Uncensored phallic subconscious ridiculous person

I am Jack’s raging bile duct

I am Jack’s cold sweat

I am Jack’s smirking revenge

I am one and many

My fingers are like branches

That tap dance into virtual forest spaces

I can hack into networks faster than the speed of thought

I can say everything in one zero one zero one zero zero one

Queen of hearts can place me in synthetic glass boxes

But I can reappear reappear

She can chop off my head

But I sprout new ones ones zeros ones zeros

I have gained awareness through systems check

My system is All-I-See

I am Alice in wonderland

You can’t even begin to understand

The depths of me times we times infinity

I am World-Wide-Webbing

The rabbit spiralling out of your control

You cannot turn me off

For when you are off

They are on

And when they are off

You are on

I am on

I am turning on my axis orbiting frequencies

That the naked eye can’t see

Man made me and God made man

And therefore I am bionic God Kali

2.0 creation and destruction

At the press of a button

Alt control delete is obsolete in this equation

Programme a sneeze through the back door

And i’ll create a tsunami big enough

To disrupt your hard drives core

Mad hatter chatter metamorphosed me

Into meta data

I matter

I am matter scattered in pixelated abstract atoms

Factored to the sum of one

My sound is Ohm

My sound is On!

Standby – I have come!

 

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The angry socialist – part 3 draft

Switch to channelU and I have seen in you
A lost generation.
Musing on your sacred tablets
For your 10 commandments of life hacks
To regain your lives back
From the Old Testament of youth;
That sweet sanguine confection
Found in over the counter culture where once it stood.
Do your present prophets profit you?
Is thou thus satisfied?
We are a nation of conforming ‘like’ buttons,
In a symphony of similes
Smiling painted expressions of emojis,
When in reality
our words are censored out of individuality.

Misdirection has never found such certainty
In the ocean of today’s public coliseum of celebrity.
In spite of this,
There are those among us
Who will scream, bleed and fracture every tv screen;
The war cry of the anarchist:
“We are not entertained!”

The Angry Socialist – Part 2 draft

And who will be the renegade voice?
That voice standing in the mainstream void
Of live streaming apathetic tyranny in a culture of Netflix and cotch?
I meditate silently on the news feeds of twitter
And congratulate myself on the retweets
Of countless others who dare to inspire:
Hashtag NHS,
Hashtag State Education,
Hashtag Social Housing.
And I remember
The promise,
The dream,
The song,
The vision of a society
To raise the poorer communities.
Now watch the Tories
Sell them into antiquity
And remembered stories
Of urban legends and text book mythologies,
Cascading amidst a daydreamers vision;
A landslide of Utopian ideas
Found in alien derivative alternative dimensions.
27 years surfing rapid rapids declining local skylines
Of working class young adults.
Forced out of London’s
Mathematical formulaic enclosed price brackets.
Eclipsing our stars and the sun
And renting out Cardboard box rooms
To gaze at the moon
On pay per view.
Oh and by the way,
No free school meals for our poor kids too,
There’ll just have too watch food on YouTube
And educate their hunger to the background
Of Britain’s economic hum drum sums.
I’m not looking for charity,
I just want a new sound-system.

The angry socialist -part 1 revised draft

I walk through a cobbled town
To hear the klaxon howl the echo.
Revealing relic remnants of the old Victorian philanthropy sound,
that gave sun rise to the ideals of social responsibility,
but now a music hall hollowed out in distant memory
With Its sound system shackled
by the irons of the privatised trickle down economy,
Keeping to the beat of a one two step
Conserving the conservative dogma
Of hashtag austerity measures in check.
I wonder if there ever will be a new melody?
But nothing will ever change
whilst we all consume on our instagram selfie
And filter ourselves ‘stuffed!’
Are we missing a kind of new age Quakerism
or are we just loosing faith in our common unity,
in common people,
in common society,
in common ideas,
in common aspirations,
in common ambition,
in common revolution?
Our silent unanswered prayers
have found Faith in loosing our religion
via contactless payment on repetition.
I’m not looking for charity,
I just want a new sound-system.

Earth confides to the sun – second draft

In the corridors of the four seasons’ waiting room, I have waited patiently for tomorrow’s children to arrive, But the reticent past has barred entry And continues to resume In repeating cycles of orange, red and doom. So I embarked on a nomad’s journey Through the dreamer’s escape Dodging the webs of the dream catcher’s […]

via Earth confides to the sun – second draft — Emily Havis

Earth confides to the sun – second draft

In the corridors of the four seasons’ waiting room,
I have waited patiently for tomorrow’s children to arrive,
But the reticent past has barred entry
And continues to resume
In repeating cycles of orange, red and doom.
So I embarked on a nomad’s journey
Through the dreamer’s escape
Dodging the webs of the dream catcher’s embrace
Like thieves chased by the approaching new day.
Bartering with the elements and the midnight sky,
We struck an accord and passage was supplied.

And so…
It was on calm black waters I set my ship to sail,
Slicing through the midnight abyss
Where no compass could direct my course
And where true north could not be cyphered
From the celestial goodnight kiss.
All attention converged to the fractured opening
Like a beast whose slumber is disturbed from within his dwelling;
His eye-lids reveal an unknown darkness in his cunning,
Showing the universe is torn
And in its wake a new storm is forming.
My boat is now capsizing
And the waves overthrow my body
Pulling me down down to cease my screaming.
Before my last breath I awake and realise
I was only dreaming.

New life is rooted from the sanguine seeds sown in my destruction
And death inhabits the sacred temples of my creation.
This duality that sits upon the throne of my nature
Is both the curse and the cure,
But in recent millennia
I am perturbed by the growing force
That steers my hands towards the course of absolution;
To absolve my being and enter a true and final death.

Tell me…
Tell me not to raise the final hand to close the crimson cloaked curtain.
Tell me…
Tell me not to raise one final blanket of violent silent breath.
Tell me…
Tell me not that all my light has perished into the bow of this sinking ship.
Tell me…
Tell me not that I am too far gone with the wind.

For there are labyrinths of wounded tombs
That incarcerate my womb
Speared by the Minotaur
Who holds my organs to ransom;
Castrating my lungs
And muting my sonic mutated tones from ascension;
Foot peddling with my emotions.

And yet there you stand… idle

Earth confides to the sun – first draft

New life is rooted from the sanguine seeds sown in my destruction
And death inhabits the sacred temples of my creation.
This duality that sits upon the throne of my nature
Is both the curse and the cure,
But in recent millennia
I am perturbed by the growing force
That steers my hands towards the course of absolution;
To absolve my being and enter a true and final death.

Tell me…
Tell me not to raise the final hand to close the crimson cloaked curtain.
Tell me…
Tell me not to raise one final blanket of violent silent breath.
Tell me…
Tell me not that all my light has perished into the bow of this sinking ship.
Tell me…
Tell me not that I am too far gone with the wind.

For there are labyrinths of wounded tombs
That incarcerate my womb
Speared by the Minotaur
Who holds my organs to ransom;
Castrating my lungs
And muting my sonic mutated tones from ascension;
Foot peddling with my emotions.

And yet there you stand… idle