against

anger, annoyance
something that can’t be healthy
be better now
the paradox of lost civilizations
fade to nothing
the tragedy of knowing the ending
who wins and who loses
what was left behind
a strange, and uncertain beauty

Band-Aid Warrior
call down the stars and the sky
not futuristic enough
clocks, leading to pipes
a primordial sea of time
the rain and the smell of the rain
pixel people
coyotes howling in the desert
what eternity feels like

feelings of wrath
the end is the end
the heartbroken
fangs and claws
still just as lonely
Evolved to extinction
garbage, regurgitated robot speech
hindsight is culture
the fulcrum of technology

clocks, leading into the internet
when it rains, history is changing
inside a time vent
a civilization that was great too
run-down castles, and ramparts
poke holes in history
Indo-European sky realm
leaving the space colony
the world before

it’s now an open question and a race
AIs and their creators
orchestra of the rain
a hollow strategy

Please do not repost without my permission, but you can support my poetry here! Originally written 8/14/20. Copyright, All Rights Reserved.

a clockwork heart

You’re nobody to your god
something that hurts
A gap in the barrier maze
Boomers: The Zombie Generation
angel haven
wear the horns
why the past is winnable
Play the road alive
noscope jumpshot

why the past is valuable
nade the tree
a well in Manchuria
torus manifold “angel”
a divine loser
the Wrath and the Blood
a bucket of swine
loser TV
if the world is ending, for you, let it end

Split the Blood of an “Angel”
invoke a fallen cryptid’s name
call down the army of “heaven”
where there are rivers, there are valleys
hollow words, hollow ideology, hollow faith
stand for anything and everything – until finally nothing
it is an empty gourd – a clanging cymbal
Behind the Veil; the Holy of Holies
where there are deserts, there are mountains

A replica of the Temple, in “Heaven”
The half-angel’s sacrifice
Insta-shy
The Blood of a higher species
Pocky hero
Band-Aid warriors
AI zoo
The Last Ziggurat
the ark of genes

your world ends when you let it
unknowable Minos; the fires of Troy
preserve our genes
children of the anti-hero angel

Please do not repost without my permission, but you can support my poetry here! Originally written 7/01/20. Copyright, All Rights Reserved.