Winston Loves Big Brother

A poem about 1984

Broken mind, seeing blind

There's not much I haven't left behind

Comrade O'Brian,

I apologize for the traitor I saw in my mind

Hard control by soft means

The leash is just what people need

And should you relent your grip

They'll beg to have it back it seems

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In my dream, where I am a man

I love Julia and no other

But as the digit I've become I must admit-

Winston Loves Big Brother

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We were always at war with Eurasia

A lengthy and bloody euthanasia

They want to take our unfreedoms, allegedly but incidentally-

We were always at war with East Asia

---------

"Freedom isn't free"

But contented for too long, I can't bother

in shame which long became pride I'll admit-

Winston Loves Big Brother

What is a man but... I would't know

Something which I did long but smother

I am but the symptom of his glory

Winston Loves Big Brother

Reels Fatigue

Im a man of your world brother - Im covered in blood

Im a man of your world sister - my boots are caked in mud

I murdered Issac to show my love of god

I fucked whoever I could and wept, am I still a stud?

Please ask me questions when you film me on the street

Please see my silence as my defeat

I had the news reels flying on repeat

"20 dead on a crowded street" I laughed myself to sleep

Let me question you - a parasite to a whore

Let me question you - who make a living on all fours

Even though I don't at all

(at all)

We're all kings and queens here - crowns of styrofoam

Bleating like goats into cheap streaming microphones

The difference is it's a shame a goat must die for mutton

It's a blessing when we're gone

I'm a man of your world brother- but you are not a man of mine

I'm a man of your world sister - but you're not a woman of mine

I'll be willing, you'll be Abel

Consider this a cold take from he, of a colder time

Anthropomorphosis

(Explanation in the post script)

Anthropomorphosis

Beggars can't be choosers I suppose

I just didn't want to be like one of those

The multitude of apes who the streets adorn

From them skin was torn

From them my blood was retrieved and warmed

I feel not for them but I wish not behold anymore

I was strapped unto a bed

Camera eyes embedded into my head

Ears carved out, fitted with microphones within

Sensors installed but not sense

An all consuming light I run to hence

In my dream as I regret this happenstance

I provoke your instinctive heart

Mine is but a work of art

I am you to you but to me we're worlds apart

Was I born to fool?

Am I merely a tool?

I lay awake, I lay in wait, but whatever future comes

It will be cruel

Explanation and Report-

I’ve been quiet for a while recently as a few new projects began taking flight and some older projects were wrapping up. Recently however, just for fun, I’ve taken on writing about androids and robotics. I’m very close to finishing editing my long-form piece about Greece and as a respite and outlet I’ve been writing about an android who’s all too aware of the fact he’s not human, which is both a pride and a pain to him.

I don’t know why this theme appeals to me to this degree, either it’s my own tendency to feel alienated or my fondness for 16-bit fonts. Anyway, so far I only wrote a couple of poems and a couple of terms. The title of this poem, “Anthropomorphosis” is a conjunct of “anthropos” (human/man) and morphosis - the process of becoming. So Anthropomorphosis is a neologism that roughly translates to “the process of becoming human.”

A Ballad for the Yakuza Soldier - Bōryokudan

(Occasionally I write about topics that I don’t see any use for in the near future. But every once in a while I write one I am particularly fond of and have no place to put it. From now on, I’ll post them here. Recently I’ve been reading about the Japanese Yakuza, and thought it’d be interesting to push myself into those shoes.

Please note that this isn’t some hyperrealistic examination of the topic or commentary on anything.)

Your altruism leaves no impression

Your whimpering complaints are not heard

I believe in the healing powers of instigation

I believe "violence" is not just a word

They say I'm petty

I like to think I'm thorough

They say I'm angry

But their big mouths won't see tomorrow

I don't have any big ideals

My mission statement isn't complex or wise

My story isn't an inspirational one

Few words are enough to surmise:

I joined a violent group because I'm violent*

I took the extreme way because I was bored+

I made the best of a losing hand in oicho-kabu ^

And set out to burn the world

*Violent groups or Boryokudan are what the Japanese police calls the Yakuza

+The extreme way or "gokudo" is an alternative term for the Yakuza

^the name of the Ya Ku Za 8-9-3 is derived from the worst hand you can draw in Oicho Kabu, a game similar to Baccarat