.....woman as automatic art work.....
...her movement by proxy equates skill...
..emotion via media..
.post modern reality/unreality fear/paradox/conundrum.
a return to solidity, flesh
ove you cyborg
is she media? / method
is she real? / procedure
is media real? / mechanize
is reality real? / ignorant
Does she have immunisation against possible
viruses caused by fear of fear of feeling, /Immunity
these artificial, shallow lives /Artificial
make a lake in my rolling hills (stars are /Fear
avenues, clouds are teaspoons) /Money
I feel the neck of the womb /Animalism
a church spire, space junk. /infectious
disease is a metaphor for love. You, my love /non-meaning
have chicken flu and I may well have it /arbitrary
too /Authenticity
She has been reported as an amphibian, people stopped /Rootless/ Taste the tea spoon
and stared to revere the crazyness /Nomadic
of her birthing. /androgyny/ bureaucratic
She is mad, she is bad, /compliant
originally and most certainly, ferile /baroque
child beyond and beneath the stars /expedience
Who is she? Who are you talking about Simon? /parody
You must need psychotherapy /democratic /pilfer
or literature, philosophy /culture
back in society, counselling to return /sci-fi
to this fiction of reality /eat
this removal, by proxy /sex
to push up status /equality
hold on money /conform
cyborg /animas
revenue. The detritus of /suppression
stars in sperm and eggs /art
I feel rockets erecting / spirit
Our new science / taste
souls unwinding...... / peace
2 comments:
is art rocketing, is art erecting our chicken fears,
cyborg?
you, cyborg, dear cyborg
egg bears woman
no original-sin in view
the stars of science over us, simon
as possible viruses of fear/paradox/conundrum
automatic sperm automatic flesh spoon philosophy/ cause movement
automatic Art teaspoons
make the literature
in spires
unwinding Labels
clouding over our erecting fear
revenue lives make media
post-real media like church metaphors
detritus is pushed further
women on psychotherapy have science on their side
their junk souls liberated erecting a new world
Writing this poem/puzzle I realise how much our artificial way of life is unhealthy.
I drive to work, I work in air-conditioned artificial environments, much of my time is concerned with communicating with people by proxy. I wash my hands in anti-bacterial soap, I could drive to the newsagents for cigarettes or to my neighbours.
I hear, constantly, in shops, televisions, Internet and the radio how I should eat less fat, take more exercise, take out a loan, how I should protect myself against terror, against diseases and illness, drink less, have a credit card, lose weight....etc. etc.
Who exactly are they targeting with their adverts?
Themselves, of course.
I went for a walk in the countryside, recently and I felt completely out of touch with nature. Some strange alien land/environment.
I then realised that all this electronic, psychobabble is absolute rubbish and causes the illnesses that it claims to fix.
Breathe in the fresh air, walk and be happy. The bullshit is contagious!
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