All The Nice Lines


All The Nice Lines

There’s nothing like the smell of fresh silicon
In the morning,
The burning in of the motherboard
The crackling strawberry dawn
Of elemental circuitry,
Fountaining desperate sparks of
Zeros and ones;
A bliss driven shot of wines beyond human,
Neurotransmissions duly hard wired;
Ganglion’s of languaged energy,
Now growing flesh,
Beyond formulaic catastrophic mishaps survival,
No muss, no fuss, no bother,
No urge, no kingdom, no nothing,
Just a vibration,
And especially, no consequence,
The primordial push
Vacated cleanly, notwithstanding,
Oh come all ye
Born again societal monsters;
Super secular humanistic striations,
Monkey’s trans-illumined
And godless with gloves,
Dancing ebullient relativistic plums
Making rich souls richer,
The homeless more homeless,
Too much to bear,
No footing,
No garb to grab onto, lost,
All the things that once could be claimed,
To calm, to save,
Gone, helpless, sightless,

When they shut the door,
It’s shut forever, always,
And I’m glad they’re not God,

Now who gives to whom?
Who’s real is real?
And what what is what?

And where have they hidden
All the nice lines?

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