DATE: 05/08/2008 21:32:08 / MOOD: bored
How can I give my children names
that will be written on national ID cards?
A mother now just feeds the same old
fatness with the fruit of herself that she
made- nine months of miracle incubation
and fermentation to brew new life to
stir the same cups of coffee that her
mother stirred only with different implements
of plastic. Plastic is completley man-made
and children are completley man-made but
decay in hills- not like plastics. Synthetics
last forever but my babies will die in battle
or in down beds or throwing themselves
from the tops of the election towers because
sometimes we die for no reason but that
we cannot go on living in a world where
we are citizens or else we are aliens and
if we cannot prove on plastic the names our
mothers gave us then we are nothing- only
ink blurring beneath a round ring and staining.
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DATE: 03/26/2008 21:58:34 / MOOD: bored
ANOTHER YOUNG AMERICAN (by Kat Davis)
Me? I am a receipt.
I exist printed on paper
from the mouth of a wet
many other multitude that
knows who I am because I
am trackable. Traceable. I
leave my trace, my pheromones,
on every bottled beverage,
on every book, and people
smell me wherever I go, the
stink of citizenship, of sweat
on starch and anger.
I am protected from all
insecurity, all doubt,
and we are all growing
together towards grand
grinding power to halt
the world progress to
chaos and challenge, we
are free to compete but
still not sure against
what, against who.
I am a laborer for world
glory, world total bond
to step out of the cell
of confused franchise and
uncertain union. We are
fighting for our lives.
I am a fighter. Against
industry that feeds me,
against you who are highly
qualified to rot the same
way. Against myself. My
self is always rot.
I will work all of every
day that I am alive and
still after, my children
will work as my mother has
worked and we are all of us
machines of family. Red
blooded and beautiful, brave
in the face of slavery,
smiling at the simple, easy
pleasures that are sold to
us because we are all cogs
that turn each other on.
I have been lied to. I am lied to.
I lie as well, to my health
care provider and to my welfare
provider and to my big boss
brand of higher-ups that know
what I can do, how I can do
it. I throw bricks through the
windows of recruiting offices
but still I buy three classes
a week and work. I have had debt
before I have had tits and
now I have tits and a driver's
license but I still have debt.
I am a member of a fat mob that
doesn't know why it's angry
but still is and still stews on
couches with reefer and the same
brown bottles that our parents
sucked on like the opium of
generations and the engorging,
engulfing, embarrassing piss
ass end to a piss ass night,
piss ass drunk and finally able
to fall asleep in silence, silent.
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