Nobody:
Not one person:
Not a single one of you:
Me: I am going to inflict poetry on everyone
Apologies for the last month of silence. After Political Conflict in the Age of Psychic Warfare, my creative centre was thoroughly exhausted. Beyond this, March turned out to be a social whirlwind – I was running around Toronto and New York Shitty, meeting mutuals and even, an unexpected and very great pleasure, a few readers (you know who you are). On top of this, much of what small amount of productive time I had available ended up getting consumed by normie academic commitments.
In the course of these adventures, at one point we were sharing old creative works, and I dug up some verse that I’d composed in my old life as a slam poet. Much of it is terrible and will remain firmly archived on my hard drive, but a few pieces were better than I remembered, and I’ve been encouraged to share them. I also wanted to get in on the game after
shared his own epic poem Alakyrum1, to say nothing of the wonderful verse that has been publishing at his criminally underrated blog hyperpoesis.The poem that follows, titled Schism Dreams, was written about 15 years ago ... keep that in mind when a certain term shows up. It was written with performance in mind, so I’ve recorded a reading of it; my recommendation would be to read along as you listen, as there’s a bit of wordplay that might get lost in the performance, while at the same time the metre, rhyme, and alliteration isn’t necessarily obvious without the spoken word.
Now we’ve all got these
Instasatellitelink datachips at our touchtips
Tapped straight into globopulation's collaborative eye
We simulcastingly descry
The whole world within our stories
Perhaps holding it holy
But more often only wholly for ourselves
We huddle down in sleeper cells
Torn apart by terror war
Tripped out by hordes
Of maniacal gabbling mechanical elves
That somnambulate freely
Through our primal core of aboriginal Dreaming
The original bridge between you and me
And all the other mes
Trapped in universal war with all our other selves
Like batshit crazy rampaging killer T-cells,
And even as the spurts of this spectacle spill into now
And are caught freezing in our Flickrstreams it seems
That time is speeding up
As we're all reading up
And faithfully feeding our hyper-marked-up
Stories upstreaming to the global cacophony
Which cackles with glee
Uproar-LOL-Anonymously
With various versions of reality
Encased in echo champers
Built from symbolic social memories
Of varying verity.
Witness:
The degrees of awareness that
Not everyone's been telling the truth out there
Like when a headline wafts by and you almost swear
That you can savour the scent that saturates the air
Like a bouquet of ... Bullshit!
And rotten fishy plot holes
That burn through the story like hot coals
Igniting your nose hairs!
Like:
“The econopocalypse was completely unforeseen,
And although we know it's scary
Emergency measures are necessary!
And anyway they're only temporary,
And in the long run will benefit everyone
(and not just us)
So in this mean time try to look on the bright side
Chin up
Ignore that smell!
And just have fun
Normality will shortly begin its resumption!”
And it does,
New Normal settles in
And we all get used to a little extra pressure on the chin
As the bit gets tightened between pain and sin
And we're steered like drafted beasts
And once again set apart and against
Scouring razor-thin margins
On the Earth's freshly shaven and oiled skin
And scheming to Win it Big on the human frontier
By sewing the brains, eyes, and ears of our kin up forever
In invisible nets woven of nanotech titanium tethers
That feel as light as those tiny feathers
Clipped to make pet birds that cannot fly.
A planet whose minds glare as one with the all-claiming eye
Of a cosmic narcissism
Enforcing the schism
Between this holomorphic Earthly prism
And the will of those it imprisons
More deeply
With their every self-serving decision
Binding them
To the strongest will's desire,
Which will be a bottomless ambition for empire
That will turn Terra into Mars
To build the infrastructure that it will take
To colonize the planets
For it already wills to conquer the stars.
But Imperial Entropy is without real reach
In worlds permeated with the empathy
Of the impenetrably infinite mystery
That over gigayears gave birth to
They and thee and I and it and me and you and we
From the same unity of Sky and Earth
As seeing self in Other-self all can as one mature
Into a communion of all
Who stand together with spirits tall
And wills free
Whose tears Call upon the wells of creation within them
While all of Creation plays with them
A game whose greatest nonzero gain
Is to grow all in wisdom
In the ways of well serving
The flourishing of beings
For they have seen selfotherself boundaries
To be but the most fleeting of dreams,
As are words such as these.
A Hermeneutic Note
It’s considered gauche for a poet to condescend to interpret his own work, but as an accidentally literate barbarian warlord I was never much on propriety. For the zoomers in the audience, ‘Flickrstreams’ is of course a reference to the now largely abandoned photo-sharing site Flickr. ‘New Normal’ has become a universally recognized entry in the propaganda lexicon, but as far as I know it wasn’t something I’d ever heard before when I used it here, over a decade before the lockdowns; re-reading it, a chill went down my spine.
The overall theme of the poem emerges from the esoteric concepts of Service To Self vs. Service To Others, as the two fundamental, and fundamentally opposed, orientations any entity can take in its orientation towards other entities. A society composed of entities polarized in an STS direction will naturally collapse into a pyramidal dominance hierarchy: stronger entities will subjugate weaker entities to their will, and then use the hierarchy to draw energy towards the apex of the pyramid. This is quite obviously how our world works, and how it has always worked. By contrast, a society composed of entities with STO polarizations will come to resemble a circle, with energy passing freely between its members, each of whom receives back at least as much as he provides. No such society has ever existed on the macroscale on our planet. Of course the Communists tried, but every attempt degenerated into a brutish pathrocracy far more exploitative than the hierarchies they replaced – you can’t build an STO society out of STS beings, any naive attempt to do so will inevitably become simply another means of parasitic resource extraction, and those suggesting you try are usually characteropaths trying to manipulate you with half-truths.
When I wrote Schism Dreams, I was still in the mindset that it was possible to ‘wake people up’, that a universal ‘change in consciousness’ was somehow possible, which would sweep away the old order and usher in paradise. This was naive; though at the very end I noted that those pretty words about universal oneness are after all, a dream, so perhaps I was not so naive as all that. STO circles are certainly possible, with much effort, on the societal microscale, but they can only survive with strict boundary policing in order to ensure that only those of the correct disposition and potential are admitted. Yet at the same time, while every eutopia is a utopia, there’s no question that it feels that we’re perched on the edge of some sort of epochal planetary phase change, which can and perhaps soon will tip over into one or another attractor state; Langan’s concept of the Tech Singularity vs. the Human Singularity is one of the more concise descriptions of the choice our species confronts, and which of these transpires will ultimately be decided by our psychic or spiritual state as the transition unfolds.
Another aspect in which I find myself in conflict with the younger me who wrote this, is the characterization of that terrible narcissistic Will as having the ambition to colonize the stars, in the pursuit of which it would be happy to trash the planet. To the contrary: if the parasite lords that are currently trying to consolidate their control of the planet emerge victorious from this global struggle for the future, it seems far more likely that they will lock humanity down on our birth world, in order to ensure that their rule remains perpetual.
If you enjoyed this poem, you might also enjoy Blue Sunrise, which was the last slam-style spoken word poem that I wrote before abandoning the scene to the rising Awokening. It’s a more mature work, in my opinion, for all that it’s much darker.
If you really enjoyed this (and what the heck is wrong with you, it’s a poem, you’re supposed to hate poetry, you know) then you should inflict it on your friends and contacts:
And you should definitely
To ensure you don’t miss … whatever I decide to do next (it won’t be a poem, I promise).
As always, allow me to express my deep gratitude and boundless appreciation to all of the Barsoomians who support my work. You don’t get nearly enough in exchange for your incredible generosity, which I am continuously humbled and amazed by.
You can consider this the opening salvo in the rap battle, Woe ;)
Målets kniv mälde mening mången;
manade mannar mot mäktigt mod
Den som höra veta att böra och göra;
dådkraft ogjord; handen stilla;
vankelmod de höge ogilla
Endast fä tiger stilla.
-
Right, so that's a first attempt to spit something out in the style and manner of the old ones. A skald was supposed to not take hours or days or even longer to compose a rhyme, not even in Töglag (a kind of verse) or when weaving kennings into the stanzas. A true skald would spit out verse on the spot, possibly only requiring a sip of the blood of Kvaser to set the tongue in motion. A very "limping translation" (swedish idiom for poor translation) would be:
The knife of speech spouted many meanings;
egging men on to brave courage
The one who hears shall know to ought and to do;
deedfulness undone; lame of hand;
indecision detested is by those on high
Only beasts keep silent for fear
That's a very rough-and-ready attempt to get some of the meaning to carry over. But for the real stuff, give up an hour to read Havamal and Voluspa. There are good english versions, as long as you stick to ones made before the 1950s.
Enjoyable stuff. All barbarians should enjoy song and verse; especially those that take the battle to Mars.