Ephemeralization Ex Nihilo – Anna Brodsky
February 16, 2021
The Social Dilemma.
Undo my anxious anything
Whisper in my ghost, be still
Be grateful for
/ A universe //
A time which wills
To pool and swill
Into the crevices of consciousness…
I was feeling constricted –
I began to feel maligned –
To sink addicted
Into sands of cybergrime –
A world afflicted
By a monkey on its shoulder –
Drain the spirit, make it colder,
Make it sameish, I’m not squeamish,
It’s what we wish: sacrifice the weakest
On the alter of Malthusian market economics.
Inflated state of ego: chronic
Bled into something symbolic…
It came to me in a dream:
A million faces imprisoned by filters /
Creatures on fire, bewildered,
In the antichambre of the arena.
An audience of enthusiastic amoebas
Scream at the divas,
Like hurling feces – but with the pretension of being cleaner.
As if distention would make it clearer
Collective human amygdala oedema
/ Pulses and cries //
With mainstream consensus on its side.
But I woke up from the nightmare
And felt the heavy, cold
Morning moist on my cheeks –
Spaced between bars:
Choices hold the key.
Open Access Zero Waste Cybernetic Open Source Resource Economics For Public Health
Violence is coded into the framework
Of the global economy.
Externalities – the lives which this insane game hurts.
Don’t be born in the gutter, that’s where the peacekeepers lurk
Spreading justice like butter on streets with their knees in reverse –
Manufacturing gutters to keep you subversed.
Gutter state spluttering, figureheads muttering,
Hearts and minds shuttering //
And the teargas comes squirting in –
They kneeled on his neck and they murdered him –
Suffocated by the weight of rich white unjust privilege.
Come alive to the world knowing you are not protected.
The antithesis of what an attachment village is –
And more –
To be born to war –
Walking to school among the ruins of your parents’ memories,
High stress energy rusting spiritual treasury
Under threat of violent death.
Come alive to the world.
White doesn’t know how it is
When the very skin you’re in is a target.
Disenfranchised know how it is
When you know your value,
But the system calls you a liar.
What I know now is this
We’ll create something new
Bathing old ways in the fire
One fine morning, Fantasy
Drifted out quite callously
And masked guests, clad in satiny swirls of pagan pageantry
In voices grim and gravelly, made offerings on vanity’s
And would not falter.
Her name was Imagination.
Silk sails trembled a flirtation in the tempestuous winds of delight and mutation –
Yet in sedation basks starvation.
Now behold her; rust, stagnation,
Run ashore –
No alteration, no encore.
Into scrap, causation tangled,
slim cations mangled –
Negativity abounds around
The scrap yard in which scraping sounds
Scream of contagion, gleam off damnation,
Yet in this rubble – consolation;
Amidst troubled agitation, the
Eternal theme of adaptation
Pools and swells
Like tides drawn by a rebel yell;
Endless, as it dreams itself.
No Such Thing As A Good Pisces.
don’t have the eyes for this
I’m melting – high felt in – this steamy cage
wrote in a bind or bliss
Snake the chords in a Free Me Rage
Through these bones and stones and – I’m racing
Blew breeze home alone and – I’m pacing
Must be the aching, I’m dusty and facing
These chills I’m embracing, sweet thrill of wasting
Time – better than killing it –
Fine – let her in, spilling spit
And nonsense, let her toxic concepts sponsor your content
I’m tossing in conscious taunting, fuck correspondence;
Give me sweat and tears.
Living wet and clear.
I’ll drain the ocean in a gasping gulp
Refrain from salt within my passion cup
The name: Devotion – came: to eat you up.
And so the mad getting slightly madder
Fundamental masses praise governmental malice
Shamans get sectioned over transcendental practice
Innocent lives creep into dark mines
Emerging bloodless and cold
Blithe mind might sell a soul
And buy a fraction’s satisfaction
Compassion reduced to transactions
Monetary, or otherwise scary.
Theres no bottom to this hole
Scrabble upwards –
Pull up while the pilots
Unshackle lovebirds, young worms, numbers
Unravel poison structures –
And facilitate liberty.
I’ve created a self across countries of content
Dream big, live in frustrated scribbles
Now my eyes start to dribble
Awash in the nonsense.
I’m game for a quibble
I’ll dice with critique
I might chance a nibble
At a figure of speech
Or a smartly pressed riddle
As I shiver
Alone between sheets as a sliver of silver tries to glimpse a peak
At my form through the curtains,
I’m warm and alert in
A state of perpetual inquiry.
Signals slow-firing –
Synapses collapsing in a flourish of flowery
Action, relaxing in part or entirely,
Align me with love in a choice which is binary.
From deep under our crusts oceans whisper, softly thrusting,
Ready to be pulled into a tidal wave, awaiting only trusting
Gazes, longing to be provoked by thoughtful touches, sensitive
Forceful sounds, a reality
Check: “Snap out of the reverie! See – your inequity!”
Ocean roars, “Awaken me;
I search for myself in many different faces,
Check in and out of foreign airports, mountains, deserts, many a beach,
Yet in those places
Discover only the vastness of my reach.
Echoed: in each space is
Infinite connection within each.”
. want to tie you up
So I can crawl closer
So I can approach you
Touch you, and feel
Without risk of
Without the chance of
Of your will.
I want to tie you as a faerie ties a soldier
Who has happened across her little nest
Eaten of the fair fruit, fallen into slumber,
And to gently curious fingers awakened –
I want you still
So I can turn you over
Over and over
Roasting you in the
Flames of my appreciation.
I want to bind you
So you are still and I can feast
Upon your flesh like
The stare of a wild and starving beast.