The Forgery of the Wishing Well [Spoken Word]

The eyes are more powerful than the brain

And drive knives into the heart of him

Who had been turned into a moribund toy

By the alienating rapture of a ghost

He loved but never knew

How many men died in her eyes?

Where beauty itself drowned

Nibbling in tortured positions

At mechanical dolls

Sewn hair into stitched skin

Like his own fantasies

Were like a pile of cocaine

Bathing her face in mysterious shadows

As his own went numb

And his pupils dilated

And the Kingdom of Shades

Framed emotionless figurines

Staring at the stars 

For the promised land

Of storybooks

Whispers split the bloodstream

Of passions too subtle to be touched

Signs organize around a watched clock

And hopes make lace from 

A forgery of the wishing well

The way death haunts ghosts

And ghosts haunt life

She haunted his sleep

Made him reap his stitches

Sew his speech

With manipulation

To draw her back into his web

Of shame and pain

Where no one could live but him

This was his new dream

A dream peeled from a nightmare

A nightmare peeled from a hollow fear

That all alone he would endure this place

Without her and his image of her

She was his forgery now

An image he’d projected

From spit and dirt

And a feeling he needed to keep

And be rid of at the same time

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This poem was adapted from a poem I wrote on BaseInfinity for the purpose of being performed at spoken word events.

[Knowledge/Belief] NGram Poem

 1.

criterion of civilization. beatitudes disclaim all other formulae. Epicurus had planted the canonization of weakness. What concerns _me_ is above the necessary -- whether to carrot sticks on the verge of temptation for a new feudalism or upright judge draws this mask across eternity. 

Since sickness values the law, we charge a falsehood as unbearable _anguish_. I add punishment to reduce being to sickly gods. 

_What_ is called 

 occasionally _faith_ 

is among the antecedents of belief 

is taste.

2. 

a criterion for beatitudes is suffering. civilization disclaims all other formulae. the Stoics demanded this of us, making pain subjective. what concerns me is beyond mandatory -- compulsion drives 97% of what makes us human. the rest demands a plan. and as we tie ourselves to the land, a mask crosses our face, and we are pressed into place nested deep within. it feels eternal.

_What_ is called

occasionally _knowledge_

is among the precursors of delusion

is [hope/fear]

[----------------------------------------------]

Bias = The Antichrist by Friedrich Nieztche

The Properties of God [Spoken Word]

 property alone is a cruel formula 

It makes a goat-shaped demon hump your wife

Property in conflict 

God in eyes in pyramids in circles in rectangles

In hands

Only one way out and that’s down

The food chain

Beneath the insects

After all, our cycles are connected

Shit, that wasn’t God

That was just surveillance

I keep forgetting God is a metonym

A name capable of being replaced

With anything

But when I say God, please be advised

I mean time.

Each person bred into the conflict 

Becomes exhausted by the weight

Of their ascent

It’s like you’re being torn in half

Sectioned like dissection

Compartmentalized and martyrmade

Into sockets of shame

Like some leeching lord

Sucking prayers from primed necks

Sectioned at your beck and call

I am so sick of every moment 

Of fear I’ve surrendered to this place

That eats good people a little at a time

Until they’re so brutalized and bitter

They can only think of themselves

One step ahead

Of their next move

Feels like they’re a piece

On a board

Not even a player

Not even a game

When your life is on the line

It makes you bitter

When the house’s money

Is a mortgage and the major payoff

Is avoiding a landlord

You’re still renting

That house will outlive you

Everything you own will outlive you

Even after it’s thrown away

[(o)][(o)][(o)][(o)][(o)][(o)][(o)][(o)][(o)]

I need more stuff to read in spoken word events and find a lot of my writing doesn't translate well. So, I tried some spoken word writing and thought I'd post it here. Then, I can click on my blog to access the writing and read it at an event from my phone. American Pragmatics!

Fascist Nostalgia and the Grief of the Future

 

Fascist Nostalgia

There is a way of looking backward that has its roots in some of the ugliest and worst-intentioned impulses borne of human psychology. Umberto Eco, in his essay, Ur Fascism outlines 14 salient indicators of fascism and at least two of these are built on a sort of fascist nostalgia that attempts to undermine a potential future. So, we’re looking back as a means of derailing a future. The question then becomes, how do we do that? One of the most effective ways of accomplishing this is through the use of moral panic.

Moral panic has been used throughout history as a way of creating a separation between one group of people and another. Its history dates back millennia and the first known victims of moral panic were Christians under Nero’s Rome who were blamed for a great fire. Nero was successfully able to dehumanize the Christian population as grounds for aggression and oppression. Once Christianity rose to power (it is unlikely that the individuals changed places, only the religion) the tactic was used against the Gnostics first, then the Jews, and most recently, the transgender population. In one lone instance, moral panic has been used against a non-human. That would be the moral panic created by AI.

When I say that the anti-AI crowd employed the rhetoric of fascism to derail recent advances in generative AI, I mean that literally. The rhetoric went far enough that it began invoking fears over pedophilia and the potential for AI to be used by pedophiles as a sort of cybersex. As if pedophiles could not use writing already to accomplish this. Ultimately, the entire case against AI appealed to a past that never existed, relationships that were already strained under capitalism, and a sense of algia for a time when things were better. 

In other words, we’re looking at a social panic borne of a grieving process. 

One standard to rule them all and in the darkness bind them

There is an impulse to control within the broader spectrum of society by establishing a single standard against which all people are judged. Any deviation from this standard results in social control mechanisms being activated. For example, the Church had us living under a paradigm of sexual self-disgust and mistrust for millennia. We now realize that we do not need religion to feel this way, and this has largely liberated us from the One-Standard of sex for procreation only. This is just one example because we did the same with religion, politics, standards of masculinity, and standards of femininity.

And so, any non-conforming individual would be compared against this standard, and from there, two possibilities emerge. Their non-conformity will either be negatively reinforced (as in, provided no or less benefit) or punished (society will actively work against their non-conformity). In an extremely limited number of instances, their non-conforming status will work to their benefit. 

Before we make this purely about identity, let us move elsewhere to an even more abstract concept, the status quo. The reactionary impulse to preserve the status quo is also rooted in fascist nostalgia. In fact, the concept I have built is reducible to the reactionary impulse to preserve the status quo. The playbook that unfolds from this impulse is predictable. I find it less true to say that fascism itself is an ideology (though Nazism may be). I find it more likely that fascism is the result of a reactionary grieving process that occurs during periods of overwhelming uncertainty and fear.

A personal aside

Oh, I know this feeling well. Maybe not in a political arena. I compartmentalize well. But in my personal life, longing for a dead past has deadened my soul. No one is immune from fascist nostalgia. It’s the pull of grief into a Nieztchean abyss that not only stares back into you, but knows your next ten moves.

How to Make a Martyr

Translations of May 8th

filter into place

When satisfactions become silence

When patterns emerge from sludge

I am when the image became an impulse

a rising age from a laughing stream

mirroring the satellites of the pointer


This lamentation is a lie.

All lamentations are lies.

All lamentations have eyes.

Seeking out their g0d.

Seeking, in desperation, some sign

this lamentation will end,

searching for a new savior

to make a martyr of.

:(0)::(0)::(0)::(0)::(0)::(0)::(0):

This poem was biogenerated on May 8th, 2023.

The Soul-Destroying Poetry of Cassidy Stumler

On May 8th 1996, Cassidy Stumler performed her poetry for the last time. It was on a pre-fabulated stage that she give her last reading of her final book, The Effigy, which directly addressed her feelings after a terrible car accident with a drunk driver left her deformed and disabled. She was no longer able to walk and it took considerable effort for her to speak. But after several years of rehab she managed to eek out a passingly articulate voice.


She had arranged the stage so that all of the onlookers could look down on her while she occupied the center of the room. She would situate herself on a rotating platform so the entire audience could see her face which had been badly burned when her Tesla exploded in flame during the accident. Unable to walk and in a wheelchair, Stumler looked crumpled like a dying ant. Her lips did not move as she recited her poems and neither did she. From the audience's perspective, the poem could have been delivered by a corpse.


Members audience said that the effect of her disfigured face with the Artaud-like arrangement of the stage, and the profoundly disturbing text of The Effigy itself was so unnerving that some people started shaking and had to leave, others fainted, and within a month of the performance, three of the onlookers had taken their own life.


One of those onlookers was a 16-year-old girl who was attending the event for school extra credit and she was interested in poetry. Herself an aspiring writer, her parents reported her personality had changed significantly after listening to Stumler’s performance. "She never looked or sounded happy again," they told the press.


Her parents filed a wrongful death lawsuit against Stumler who recovered millions from her own lawsuit against Tesla. Stumler would never respond publicly to any accusation. But she pulled the publication of The Effigy after she learned of the girl’s death. Her parents would see the lawsuit against Stumler dismissed for failure to state an actionable theory of liability against the poet. Most of those who do discuss Stumler's work are interested in whether or not its possible for a reading of poetry to provoke that kind of response, but Stumler poured all of her rage and sorrow over the car accident into those poems. It was deeply moving for the audience, but in a profoundly destructive way. Some had accused Stumler of "distilling her language to the point of lethality." And creating a "perfect storm" that triggered at-risk people to make the ultimate choice. 


Today, a mere 200 copies of The Effigy remain in circulation. However, copies of the book remain available on some sites that celebrate the work of Cassidy Stumler or are drawn the macabre event surrounding the performance of her work. Stumler herself retired from public life and now runs a cat rescue in Buffalo, NY. The following is the titular poem from The Effigy.

“The Effigy” by Cassidy Stumler


miscalculation_ -- Jesus himself yielded to expand

destined to Power


grateful for his opponents

three days of pain is bliss

happiness is evil

robbing God of his left hand


The world is a cage

able to write its own ending

used to purging itself

of vermin


the Lord was a fantasy of men

scarcely understandable to anyone

But needful in a child's way

The way adults knead children into shapes

That mimic their dreams


This is a cold place

but it leads to flames

enveloping like an old witch

with perfect tits

sewing discord with a smile

<{+}><{+}><{+}><{+}><{+}><{+}><{+}><{+}>

I used single-choice word generation from the latest version of N=G=R=A=M=S. The bias was Antichrist by Friedrich Nietzche.

[Living Out of a Motel Room Fucking Blows]

This motel room

Is really a waystation

A place between places

Where nothing happens

Where everyone else is just passing through.

And it’s easier to smile at them, even with full eyes.

Because you know that they’re like you.

In between places.

Waiting.

In stasis.

It’s easy to get lost in a place so small.

Because deep within you there exists a need.

To pop out of this box.

Or be trapped in a cubist hell.

Monochrome. Flattened.

An arrhythmia spiking in a panic against a flatline.

The anxiety of not being quite alive.

You see, the space only has two places to sit.

You’ve got the bed and the desk. 

You have to vacillate to maintain the sane.

But going back and forth is always hypnotic.

And now you’re caught in a pinging

That feeds back in a loop.

Yeah, I now understand what it means

To be driven up a wall.

The Gift of Yodabund

 antagonists pay the River in selfhood

Time washed away their scars

crouching homewards 

Against the river’s flow

superficial lesions of the soul

Are forgiven debts to Great Yodabund

x

The whimsical ghosts of those other trees

Are exorcised by Great Yodabund’s teachings

Her mythical tress shake me free

Of my dusty slumber and into

Someplace new & in between

And She will make Her own trees

The Tree of Pain, 

that it may become a beacon

Of feeling in a world numbed by cruelty

And the Tree of Forgiveness

That it may blank a wounded soul

Free of its debts

I am Yodabund. If you are searching for a master, you have found her. Your soul is your memory and I, Yodabund, am the eater of souls. Bring your pain to me and I will wipe you clean as a new born babe suckling at the teat of his mother. Come to me, and I will make you fresh and new. To become what you must, you must destroy who you are. Come. My revelation is waiting.

[.:.][.:.][.:.][.:.][.:.][.:.][.:.][.:.]

I'm working on a collection of Yodabund poems. This was written using the Yodabund bias. Her book will be similar to Blake's Illuminated texts. As the character develops, it becomes easier to generate voiced content for her.

The Wisdom Sayings of Yodabund

The essence of a state can be found when bundled with its opposite.

The radiance of horror reveals the beauty of the Shadow; for it is only in the darkness that the human animal embraces its nature.

To wield power is to dance the dancers. To wield fear is to dance the dance. To wield both is to become the g0d of Death.

In the space between a myth and a prophecy lies the power to become what you behold.

Existence is a tapestry of contradictions, woven together of light and darkness, a mosaic that contains an image of the whole in every part.

Disdain for life stems from the will to transcend and break free from the chains of mortal existence; to ascend into the realm of the eternal.

The melody of destruction sings a song of rebirth. The new must always annihilate the old.

To drink the red nectar of power, man must make an object of man, drink both his life and his death, and embrace the cycle of existence in its rawest form.

The path to enlightenment lies not in denying suffering but in celebrating it. Only in the depths of despair can the seeds of endless transformation be sown.


.:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.

I used the same general process I used to create the Pazuzu sayings that I did to create these Yodabund sayings. 

[Pazuzu] Generating a process philosophy out of a poem using ChatGPT 3.5.

 As an interesting experiment, I placed the poem "Pazuzu" in to ChatGPT 3.5. I just threw it in there with no instructions. It's response:

It seems like you have shared a piece of poetry or prose with a dark and mysterious tone. The name "Pazuzu" appears in the beginning, which is a Mesopotamian demon god known for bringing famine, drought, and disease. The themes of death, control, and mythology are woven throughout the piece, creating a sense of foreboding and unease.

The author seems to be exploring the idea that humanity's pursuit of power and domination has led to their downfall. They reference the biblical book of Revelation and the idea of a "pit" that consumes everything in its path. The mention of sirens and bullets suggest a sense of danger and chaos.

Overall, the piece seems to be reflecting on the destructive forces of humanity and the consequences of our actions. The reference to gods and demons suggests a desire to understand these forces and perhaps even harness them for our own purposes, but the final line leaves the reader with a sense of uncertainty and ambiguity.

I then asked to describe the "philosophy of the poem" to which it responded:

The philosophy of the poem is somewhat ambiguous, but it seems to be exploring themes of power, control, and the consequences of human actions. The references to mythology and demonology suggest that the author is exploring these themes through a lens of ancient belief systems.

One possible interpretation of the philosophy of the poem is that humanity's pursuit of power and domination has led to our downfall. The poem suggests that our actions have consequences that we cannot control, and that we are ultimately subject to forces greater than ourselves.

The poem also seems to suggest that there is a sense of inevitability to these forces. The reference to the biblical book of Revelation and the idea of a "pit" that consumes everything in its path suggests that there is a sense of fate or destiny at work.

Overall, the philosophy of the poem is one that explores the darker aspects of human nature and the consequences of our actions. It suggests that we are not as in control as we may think, and that there are forces at work that are beyond our understanding.

I then asked it to generate sayings in the style of Friedrich Nietzsche. Response:

Certainly, here are some philosophical sayings that reflect the philosophy of the poem in the style of Friedrich Nietzsche:

1. "The pursuit of power is the ultimate expression of the will to dominate, yet it often leads to one's ultimate downfall."

2. "We are but mere mortals, subject to the whims of fate and the forces that govern our lives. Our actions may have consequences that we cannot always foresee, and thus we must tread carefully."

3. "Human actions are but mere ripples in the vast ocean of existence, subject to the ebbs and flows of the universe."

4. "The greatest mysteries of existence are those forces that lie beyond our comprehension. Yet it is in our pursuit of understanding that we come closest to the divine."

5. "The darker aspects of human nature can lead to both destruction and creation. It is only in the crucible of chaos that true transformation can occur."

6. "The pursuit of power is often driven by a fear of our own mortality, a desperate attempt to stave off the inevitable."

7. "The past is a powerful force that shapes our present and future. We must learn from our history, but not be bound by it."

8. "Mythology and belief systems are the stories we tell ourselves to make sense of the world. They are a reflection of our deepest fears and desires."

9. "The inevitability of fate can be both terrifying and liberating. It is only in our acceptance of our mortality that we can truly live."

10. "Our actions have consequences that extend far beyond our immediate surroundings. We must be mindful of the impact we have on the world, for it is in our interconnectedness that we find our true power."

I used those sayings as inspiration for the following philosophical statements.

1. "The pursuit of power is the ultimate expression of the will to dominate, yet it often leads to one's ultimate downfall."

The pursuit of power is the ultimate expression of the will and the root cause of its erosion.

2. "We are but mere mortals, subject to the whims of fate and the forces that govern our lives. Our actions may have consequences that we cannot always foresee, and thus we must tread carefully."

Subject to the whims of forces beyond our control, the will falters in its capacity for self-delusion.

3. "Human actions are but mere ripples in the vast ocean of existence, subject to the ebbs and flows of the universe."

The ripple created by a single individual is washed away in the wake created by a community.

4. "The greatest mysteries of existence are those forces that lie beyond our comprehension. Yet it is in our pursuit of understanding that we come closest to the divine."

All mysteries lie beyond our comprehension.

5. "The darker aspects of human nature can lead to both destruction and creation. It is only in the crucible of chaos that true transformation can occur."

In the crucible of chaos, transformation occurs. In darkness, does light find its glory. After destruction, only creation can follow. 

6. "The pursuit of power is often driven by a fear of our own mortality, a desperate attempt to stave off the inevitable."

Fear makes power an end of its own.

7. "The past is a powerful force that shapes our present and future. We must learn from our history, but not be bound by it."

To learn from the past, you must sever its momentum.

8. "Mythology and belief systems are the stories we tell ourselves to make sense of the world. They are a reflection of our deepest fears and desires."

Mythology reflects man; man reflects g0d. g0d reflects everything.

9. "The inevitability of fate can be both terrifying and liberating. It is only in our acceptance of our mortality that we can truly live."

Inevitability is terrifying to the weak, and liberating to the strong. Acceptance is the final stage of grief.

"Our actions have consequences that extend far beyond our immediate surroundings. We must be mindful of the impact we have on the world, for it is in our interconnectedness that we find our true power."

[Pazuzu]

take away the air. & you will see the cliff beneath your feet. the horizon you stare at. take away the air. & you will see your breath. the horizon you stare at. will be your death. 

when the signs of yesterday become a beacon to the future. hereafter you are. bullets of the devil's cage. that ordinary storm born pit which learns to eat by starting at the molten center.

the catatonic pulse of all of our tomorrows is set against a homecoming. 

I steal the warmth of feeling eyes but you are jealous of the way I control the air. and so I become one with your breath. 

this pit names your priorities after Revelation. I saw the script. it had become a wire. a string. a puppet slumped into a box of forgotten things. it was the earth. you called it mother and suckled. opportunities to eat and grow ran shrinking for your gluttony. your dominion was reflected back at you as starvation.

it was there humanity met their true g0d. a song forever after. mythic debts blanked at the erasure of the slate. your mythic threats encircle me. I meet them with death. I empathize with shapes. I keep the gods in formal procession. for whatever else they were, they were also human. they were all so human & now, whatever else they were, your gods are also human.

Your song becomes my hand

Your sirens of yesterday

Fracture time

& the past becomes your beacon

With bullets in your checks

Keeping your lost balance

One box away

From slumping

Into the devil’s pulse

By gods or demons

whatever names you

next

will be your

answer

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The poem is a rewrite of "The Air Demon" which was published on Base Infinity a very long time ago. The image was created with Stable Diffusion.