Posts Tagged ‘science fiction’

The Thing That Should Not Be

November 18, 2016

Time isn’t on my side and neither is space so I must hurry if I want to get this out. The phone’s at 23%. I’ll need to text fast, and there shan’t be time for proof reading. Please excuse that. I don’t mean to prostrate myself before you, dear reader. All I ask is your understanding and patience. This is a history. It’s your history that doesn’t exist yet, and it will be erased by the time you are in the time I am in. It will all be erased except for this, which will also be erased, someday too too soon, but for now, it can be, here, and only here, in the years that exist between us. Forgive my haste. The ventilation is poor in here, but soon I will be overcome. There can be no more ado. I must begin.

It was in the cash register at Antigua Bread where I saw my first gold plated dime. This was on November 14th, the night of the supermoon, the closest the full moon had been to the Earth since January 26th 1948. Normally, I’d have been drunk.
On the Wednesday after the election I’d gotten suspended from my social club, the Fraternal Order of Eagles for verbally attacking a Trump supporter. Somebody who thought fascism would be terrific for America should have been used to being called a fucking idiot, but I guess he wasn’t, and took offense to the epithet.
“What did you call me?” he asked. It’s funny how guys always have to ask that when they hear themselves get called something they don’t particularly appreciate getting called.
“I said you’re a fascist enabling fucking idiot, you fucking idiot,” I said. After much more cursing and raised voices, I was banished by one of our trustees. The trustee in question looks much like a corpulent toad and has a grumpy churlish personality that also puts one in mind of toads. Not that a toad has ever been particularly rude to me so maybe the toad comparison isn’t apt since Joe was generally ill-mannered and off-handed with club members, and non-members alike for that matter, but enough of toads and trustees. The point is, I’d been kicked out of my drinking club and therefore I wasn’t drunk. In light of that, needing something to do besides drink, I filled my evenings with long walks and paper cups of coffee rather than long sits and glasses of rye. There were other places I could have gone for spiritual fortification: Johnny’s, The York, Highland Bowl, La Cuevita, Maximilliano’s, Sonny’s Hideaway, Café NeLA, the Hi-Hat, Footsies, Block Party, Las Cazuelas, Villa Sombrero, The 5 Line, Colombo’s, The Greyhound, Folliero’s, the Hermosillo, ETA, The Eagle Rock Lounge, La Fuente, El Pescador, another La Fuente, El Arco Iris, The Offbeat, Villa Sombrero… Okay, the point is, again, that there was no shortage of beak dipperias. I chose sobriety. God help me, but I fucking chose it… I don’t know why, but I think it was to escape the new light and the coming winds, and truth be told, I wanted to get suspended. I wanted to be thrown out of the Order.
“Small Americano,” I ordered.
“Hot, right?” she asked.
“Yes, hot,” I said.
“Two eighteen,” she said. I gave her a five and tossed a couple quarters into the fish bowl.
“That looks like you might have a dollar in with the dimes,” I said helpfully, observing the crescent glint of gold in the ten-cent compartment.
“No,” she said, and excavated it for me. She held it up. “It’s a dime. I wasn’t sure if it was real, but it looks real.”
I held out my hand to her, and she passed the coin to me. It was a dime. The year on it was 2016. It was normal in every way except the color. I handed it back. “Seems real enough,” I said, and looked it up on my phone. There were Google hits for “gold plated dime,” but those hits then were different than the ones now. They’d have to be, of course, and everybody knows it, although we tend to ignore it just like we ignore the “PKD was right!” graffiti you can still see down certain alleys in certain neighborhoods where the light of that November moon failed to cleanse.
The truth of alternate universes, realities like ours, tethered to ours but different, is not accepted as fact. Scientists have conformed it. The tests confirming their existence are testable and repeatable with predictable results. 99% of the scientific community accepts the existence of Anthropomorphic Parallel Ontologies (APOs) while the laity continues to howl in derisive denial. It’s sad but expected. Furthermore, these APOs are fragile like glass bubbles blown too large, too thin, and the glassmith, so you know, has noxious breath. Our realms are delicate, small cracks are common, and the fouler and danker winds escape and seek to pollute the sweeter spheres. It’s a fact of physics like hot air rising, and as it turns out for us, our neighboring APO is one of the most vile. The universe attempts to heal the cracks; it takes time; the process is non-linear (two steps forward, one step back) but eventually, some corrections get put in place. This time however, the iniquitous exhalations that have contaminated our world may be too much for natural self-correction to mend.
The significant supermoon of 1948 was one such correction. Our world was cracked, and wars raged, proceeded by economic ruin, waves of fascism and nationalism and then more war, culminating in nuclear devastation. But as the moon of January 26th 1948 drew nearer, the world healed. It put itself back together and reparations were made for the horrors, with the ultimate establishment of a Jewish state on May 14th of 1948. The problem is, however, our adjacent universe will never depart from our company. It is our twin… through a glass darkly, if you will. It is the world where we all have goatees and where the Nazis won WWII. As the graffiti reads: Phillip K. Dick was right.
On Tuesday, November 4th 2008 the United States of America elected Barack Hussein Obama to the presidency. He was the first non-white to hold that office. He also had a funny sounding name to most of us. It was a high point for the world, and although the age that followed didn’t seem all that golden to most people, it most assuredly was, as the outlawed Spanish language would have put it, “Un edad de oro,” but as we all know, after the golden age comes “la caída del hombre (the disgrace of man).” Our disgrace had a name, but here, for the sake of decency and good manners, we will call him the Thing with the capital “T.” Preceding him there was the tHing with the capital “H,” and long before that the thing with the capital “G.” They will all, here in, remain unnamed.
On November 8th 2016, six days before the dark portent of the moon rose in the night sky, the most rotten and deplorable elements of society rose up and elected the Thing president. There were signs it was coming. Racism, xenophobia and hatred of women had been plaguing the west for years. England scapegoated immigrants, laid all its nation’s problems at their feet, and voted to exit the European Union. All of this is understandable only in light of the miasma of hate and fear oozing in from our fascist partner APO.
Parallel Ontologies are labeled “Anthropomorphic” because only human actions make any difference between them. Maybe some decisions made by lower animals can affect some minor changes, but as of yet, science hasn’t discovered any. It is human choices that drive all the dissimilarities. Otherwise, all the stars, all the planets, the quasars, dark matter, laws of light and gravity and motion of every atom remain identical. Without humankind, the worlds are pure. Unfortunately, and I don’t think I need to tell you this: we are humankind. Ain’t that a kick in the teeth?
The fascist reality was bleeding through into ours. It’s like sleeping next to a partner with bad breath. You try to keep your back to him, but sometimes maybe your shoulder is sore and you need a position adjustment so you roll over and there it is, that rank cloud of cool ranch, beer and digestive decay rolling across the pillows your way like a dense fog creeping ‘cross the moors. You turn away (ach!) but it’s too late. You’ve sniffed a snootful, and it’s done, a part of you now, internal. The world doesn’t change all at once. It’s a cancer, a virus incubating in the healthy cells and replicating. That’s an old metaphor, but it’s how it works.
More coins turned to gold until they all became that color, for the fascist Thing enjoyed the color of gold, and had the White House sided in the stuff from Fort Knox. Soon, the Thing himself appeared on the money. At first replacing only Franklin, but soon the Thing was on every bill and every coin except the dime, coincidentally, which was graced by the profile of Reagan. People could barely remember it any other way. This was all normal. It was all considered very quite normal. There was also the wall, which was there, all 1,989 miles of it. Nobody could recall it ever being built. It must have been built, an enormous, and frankly fairly useless, structure such as that, but it was as if it just was… breathed into being, and that’s how these things happen.
Women going through security in international terminals knew that part of the security process was a pregnancy test. You remove any metal items from your pockets, slip off your shoes, take your laptop out of the case and pee on a stick. If the test shows two pink lines, then it had better show two pink lines upon your return to the country or it’s old stoney lonesome for the baby killer. Roe v. Wade was overturned quite quickly, but the big obvious loophole was a woman with the means, a rich woman, (poor women were back alley shit out of luck) could board a plane to a more enlightened nation and bippity-boppity-boo, an Aperol Spritz in hand whilst lounging on the sands of the beautiful Mediterranean sans embryo in the womb. That loophole (as in where the neck goes on a noose), however, was quickly tightened, which meant you had to have considerable wealth, private jet wealth, to obtain a safe and legal abortion without the government forcefully re-impregnating you and locking you away until, this time, birth is given.
The period from 1973 to 2017 when abortion had been legal was considered a dark age, a time of immoral experimentation much as was the era beginning just after the civil war and lasting until 2019. People talked of slavery’s 154 years of absence from the United States as an experiment that didn’t work. It was largely accepted that a black man (a half black / half white mulatto born of criminal miscegenation) did ascend to the presidency, but that it was also him who very nearly lead us to our destruction: bankrupted economy, tripled debt, all time record high unemployment, police murdered daily in the streets, white people living in constant fear, mass shootings, embassies under siege, perpetual acts of terror and, of course, Benghazi, Benghazi, never forget Benghazi – the single worst radical Islamic terrorist attack America had ever seen. Thank Jesus Lord our nation’s one true God that communist coon and all his family were hung to die and rot, meat for crows, right there on the White House lawn. The executioner looked immaculate in his freshly pressed white hood. That was a golden day. A tremendous step forward in the healing of our country.
Please, excuse me. It’s difficult writing from this time. The zeitgeist has a way of possessing the words, and taking the narrative away from oneself. It was, in fact, truly dreadful to see that family, hanging there, for weeks on end as the police rounded up the African Americans from its cities and put them in chains to labor in the fields once worked by undocumented immigrants. It wasn’t always this way. I know it wasn’t. I can still find the graffiti that says, I forget, an author who wrote a book about Nazi Germany winning WWII, but all those books were burned, and the digital files scrubbed as was most science fiction. Too much of it had female characters and minorities in positions of power. People would get confused reading about such absurdities as women presidents. That was definitely something that never happened. Some people say it was about to or they used to say that, but you don’t hear those murmured rumors of a history lost as much anymore. Our neighbor’s air is filling the house, filling our lungs, oxygenating our blood and nurturing the brains that give rise to our minds. We are forgetting what once was, what used to be normal, and accepting how things are now as the only way that is or ever truly was real.
The air is thickening. We’re down to 6%. It wants me to hit delete and not send. Through the tiny basement window I can see the moon is rising, a thin waning sliver. The motions of the spheres won’t stop. Reality is relentless. It won’t accept a lie, and that things ever were any different than they are now is a lie. The meanness and coarseness were always there. The racism and sexism were always there. The male supremacy and homophobia were always there. The cruelty and disinformation, it too, never quit the human race. For a while we were afforded the luxury of rose-colored glasses. We saw by the light of a good and just moon. That light has been extinguished, and the malodorous vapors of an ideologically malicious world has come to choke us all, but I’m here to tell you, it will be all right. I’m a white man, and I ought to be fine. When the fields turn to dust and the crops fail; the white men are granted access to the best of the food supply. When the floods come and the cities drown, the white men get first pick of new digs during relocation. So, I’ll be okay. I want you to know. I understand that in the time you’re living, people sometimes worried about other people. Compassion and empathy used to be common weaknesses. We’re over it now. The bleeding heart liberal has been purged from our ranks. I was the last of their kind. I think. Or am I still? No, maybe not one anymore. I’m on the cusp, waning, about to go out, to become dark, cold and new like the moon. I must steady myself. Okay, deep breath. There. That’s better. Oh, shit. Send. Send. Send. Come on. No bars. No bars. No fucking bars. Send, please send. No fu…


Clockwork Fascism

November 14, 2016

Between two suns
in a slow figure eight
hour glass orbit
(although the sentient inhabitants
of Ghariph know of neither
“eights” nor “hours)
the planet reaches
intercept and then beyond
where the influence of Ghar
will wane and Riph rise

While bathed in Ghar’s
calming blue spectrum light
peace, compassion and plenty rule
happiness and contentment reign
scientific advancement is made
the People (as Gharian’s call themselves)
pursue pleasure
each to their own path
whether intellectual, physical, spiritual
in all
is an overwhelming sense of acceptance
and approval
from all by all
not that there were no debates
there were plenty
and they were enjoyed
in the pursuit of knowledge
philosophically and logically
but then
the jurisdiction of ascendency
as always it does
by the inevitable
motion of the spheres
those majestic clockwork heavens
transfers to Riph burning blood-red
where the Real People
(as Riphians call themselves)
abhor happiness – not their own ¬–
but that of others
laws and rules become strict
regarding the physical pleasures
schools and other intellectual centers
are demonized, defunded and shuttered
the land becomes no more
than a resource
to be plundered for profit
by any with the strength to take it
denial, avarice and hatred rule
poverty and sorrow reign
the powerful blame and mock the weak
for their weaknesses
there is warfare, hunger and thirst
fields and cities are razed
science is denied
this is how it is
how it’s always been
always will be
Gharians know this
Riphians know this
the sad Ghariphians
both know and lament
hoping someday
a great savior may come
and swallow whole from the sky
the foul red sun
darkening its dominion forever

April 30th 2021

September 23, 2016

Daddy bought me this
it’s a, he called it a journal,
but I like diary
he told me to tell it stuff
“Tell it about the weather
what you ate, how you are
but not too much
about that
you don’t want to write
the wrong things
bad feelings
just good things, really
like how happy you are
for me getting the job
and buying you a gift
don’t tell it about your mom”
That’s enough for today

Daddy started work today
it’s called the MSA
Maleficia Security Agency
I don’t like them
they’re the ones
who put Mommy in the tree
but now they put money
in the bank
is what Daddy said
I’m not supposed to tell
about Mommy
that’s a bad thing
but money is not
and that’s why I told
to tell about Daddy’s money
not Mommy’s maleficium
That’s enough for today

Daddy brought home a bucket
of KFC last night
The MSA bought us the KFC
he said and laughed
the chicken wasn’t good
but I liked the mashed potatoes
That’s enough for today

“Your dad works
for the people who killed your mom
it’s like he killed her
like he hung her in the witch tree,”
Donald was being mean
he’s a boy at Bible Center
he was there when Mommy
was put in the tree
I was too, of course
with my eyes pinned open to see
“She had nice big tits your mom
when are you gonna catch up?”
he said and twisted my nipple
it’s black and swollen now
a teacher saw him do it
and gave me detention
for letting him
girls can help it she said
boys can’t
That enough for today

Daddy caught a witch
we knew her all along
it’s Mrs. Piper right next door
who has the dogs
that bark all night
Mommy hated those dogs
they would fight
Mommy and her
yelling over the fence at each other
it was the day after Mommy called her a…
I shouldn’t tell the bad name
it’s an illegal word
I’ll write it small cunt
it was the day after
the MSA came
and Mommy was put in the tree
later that same week
“Justice moves fast,”
Mrs. Piper, she laughed
Daddy said she’s a real bad one
he got a confession from her
they’re putting her in the tree
tomorrow after sunset
That’s enough for today

I don’t feel like telling today
I’ll tell tomorrow
about Mrs. Piper I’ll ask Donald
if he thinks she has nice tits

Daddy put the noose around her neck
and shaved her head
she had long brown hair
after that the Clan-ministers
stripped her nude
pointed to her erect nipples
as a sign of her guilt
“Even now Satan inflames
her insatiable carnal lust,”
after that up she went
the final flight they call it
Donald said Mommy’s
were better
bigger and rounder
I’m glad
That’s enough for today

Daddy got mad
he read this and said
these are things you don’t want
to tell in writing
permanent documents like this
this can bring the wrong
kind of attention
he told me
attention that comes with trouble
Mrs. Piper trouble
Mommy trouble
trouble for him
it’s suggestive he said
that he did something very wrong
do you understand
Yes, I said
I understand
if I tell it wrong things
bad feelings
they’ll put me in the tree
Daddy looked sad
yes, he said
don’t say you don’t like them
they put the money in the bank
and the KFC in the bucket
and me in the tree I said
right, so no more bad feelings
That’s enough for today
and maybe forever too

The Imperceptible

March 18, 2016

Between 3-out & 2-out
GenArk Drop-Spoor
in the wake of cataclysmic collision
limited by protocols
chose to discharge its load
in directions flawed and fatal
but felicitously bi-planetary

information of the event
propagated through the pods
but it was meagerly detailed
the ship had struck something
invisible, insensible, indeterminate
yet undoubtedly guided
possessed of agency
a guardian restricting access
still, despite it, humans survived
on two worlds
habitable – one covered in ruins
the other wild and nothing more
divided, alas
by an unbroachable gulf
of both 227 million kilometers
and an
intelligently designed machine

for 801 days
the separated humanities
communicated by primitive
radio and television wave
and then abruptly
it was cut

the disconnected worlds did not know
but both reached identical conclusions
the system’s undetectable protector
discontinued contact
whether malicious or not
it was against them

On the inner planet
the one of vast technological ruins
the people struggled mightily
grappling with the mechanics
of complex machinery
beyond all their combined skills
despite the odds
many ancient devices soon operated:
data storage archives
power generators
construction and repair automatons
what a world
on it they thrived
while further out
across the breach
they died in spirit-crushing numbers
thirst, starvation, bowels gushing gore
hopelessness and rot beset them
until nothing of old ways remained
three bands of hunters and gatherers
irrevocably split
by details of petty politics

As a century passed
the women and men of Astroturf
conducted experiments
and meticulously documented the results
busting the bastard barrier halving humanity
was their goal
they never gave up
it took two-thousand years
and seven civil wars
and still
they never gave up…

The Imperceptible fell
an occultic monster slain
by generations of scientific study
on the day
the ethereal dictator met vanquishment
all the citizens of Astroturf
took off work
for a week long celebration
that’s lasting effect was a notable boom
nine months later
of much wanted babies
attempted resumption of communication
detected that their brethren
while there and while using radio
were speaking in unrecognizable tongues
thus a slight hiccup
conquered by their computers
in a little over a quarter hour
the translations, however
were less than reassuring
they had gone mad
the natives of Terra Incognita
worshipped precisely that
that which the Astroturf-lings
had neutralized
they killed over it
raped, sacrificed and slaughtered in its name
they called it God
aggravatingly and predictably
they called it God
this news was more than a little disconcerting
but it wouldn’t stand in the way
a team of four ambassadors was selected
garbed in what the Astroturf scientists
now jokingly referred to as God-hide
the very stuff that had cloaked
the inter-world sentinel
they’d fought against so long
they would walk among them
observe the Terra-incognitos
unseen and indestructible
and then
decide how best to bring them back
to their lost human-nature
it was decided not to

the horrors of the planet were ceaseless
wilderness razed and burnt
seas a kaleidoscope of swirling
oil-spill colors
extermination camps
holding thousands
herded daily into gas chambers
treaded smoke-belching vehicles
ground fertile fields of abundance
to muddy ruination
the degeneracy was sickening
and they wanted nothing to do with them

On the way home
a diplomatic solution was reached
they reactivated
the Terra-incognito’s deity
and reprogrammed it
to judge its subordinate subjects
in .00235 milliseconds
it did judge them
and it blessed them with the Armageddon
they had fervently prayed for
for all those too long
two-thousand years

As for the folks of Astroturf
this time
they took two full weeks off
from all forms of labor
the baby boom required
additional hospitals be built
and the moratorium on birth control
be lifted

Time to Die

January 12, 2016

a full El Salvadoran breakfast:
chorizo links, crema, eggs,
queso, black beans, tortillas,
plantains and a mug of black
cinnamon laced coffee
sat half destroyed
on the cafeteria table before her.
“Feeling better?” asked the nurse in charge.
“Yes, did everything go as it should?”
“The producers aren’t totally pleased.
Wonderful material though,
they say it’s quite moving,”
said Nurse Ellen
as she wrapped the blood pressure cuff
around Nadine’s arm.
“Producers? What about the techs?
They already have footage?”
Nadine was confused
they often were after
“Relax or we’ll get a false reading,”
the nurse said as the cuff constricted
“This is time travel.
It’s all been done
a hundred and two years ago,” Ellen explained.
“Of course, it’s disorienting.
I guess it’s all good.
Mind and genome mapped,
instructions executed.
I bought the ticket and died?”
Nadine frowned
“158 over 90… a bit elevated,
but expected,” Ellen said
as she measured the pulse Nadine remained quiet
“Heart rate: 68, low end of normal.
You were on a hijacked plane that crashed into a field.
There were no survivors,” the nurse answered
“That’s not what I meant,” Nadine said a bit snippy.
“Yes, how?”
“Like everybody else.
Like everybody who’s ever gone back,”
Ellen’s voice filled with sorrow and remorse,
sorrow for what can’t be changed
remorse for all who try and fail to change it
“Good,” Nadine said. “The nanite exploded.”
“Cause of death: aneurysm, of course, but
you were an unidentified victim,” Ellen said
“But I tried to help,” Nadine confirmed
“You did.”
“Will they use me again?”
“The producers have expressed the desire,” Nurse Ellen said,
then added, “Unfortunately.”
“Oh, no. Where are they sending me?”
Ellen cringed, “A village
in the path of Mongolian expansion.”
“I don’t speak the language.
I’m white. How on Earth will I fit in?”
“They’re growing you right as the horde arrives.”
“I’ll be brand new: raw, hairless, naked.
What kind of show is that?
I’ll be raped a hundred times
before the first commercial breaks,” Nadine argued
“That’s the show they want.”
“But what if I survive?
I could alter the past.
My European DNA in 13th century China,”

Nadine panicked
History can’t be changed, she thought
that was the whole point
they calculate the Earth’s location
both in time and space
based on universal expansion
galactic rotation
global revolution, etcetera
anchor the portal’s end-point
open our end here
send the nano loaded
with the genome and mind maps
execute the operating instructions
in a pile of dead organic matter,
grow me, and walla!
harmless time travel, but…
“My God!” Nadine cried
“They could kill us all
for entertainment and profit!”
“Nadine, please, your blood pressure,”
the nurse said
“This is time travel;
it’s already happened.”
Nadine edged into hysteria, “What?
What happened then?”
“As always you died,
raped to death in under three days,”
the nurse said consolingly.
“Oh, thank God,” Nadine said,
relief flooding through her
blood pressure dropping

Rape of Time

January 11, 2016

“Seizures, nausea, narcolepsy,”
warned the side-effects portion of the contract
“auditory and visual hallucinations,
delusions of grandeur, martyr complex,
vertigo, anal leakage, belief in ghosts,
reproductive urges, suicidal thoughts,
blurred vision…” tiring of the list
she rapidly perused the rest
and signed as she knew she would
as everybody would
successful return rates
were now up to 42%
bringing back a hit
meant fame and fortune
and she was ready, she felt
for whenever she plopped down
ten years of history books
paleontology journals
archeological texts
and from what she understood of the process
this time-mining business
might not have much longer to profit
the present remains, thankfully, intact and stable
but the past has gotten exceedingly fucked up
hundreds of twisting, curling, entwining lines
diverging, conjoining, commingling
an insane admixture
of possibilities thrown at the wall
and not a thing wasn’t sticking
the past was a limited resource
but for the sake of future generations
it had to be depleted and trashed
the light above the door went green
Kay pushed her way in
there was a wash of air
as the wind curtain shot a sheet downward
to keep out any would-be
time travelling flies
behind her the entrance sealed
the room was Spartan
a tablet and a pedestal and a fold-up cot
the operator worked the tablet
and the pedestal would work her
“Kay,” the operator smiled
“this way please…” Kay walked to the pedestal
and mounted it
“Um, no. The bed if you like,” he said
“I wasn’t aware of a final exam,”
Kay said.
“There isn’t. It’s just that
one of the symptoms, reproductive urges,
I understand it can be painfully acute
and coming before you go
can greatly alleviate the pressure.”
Kay’s eyes widened
she didn’t want to,
but automatically checked him out:
fit, young, coarse features
what with imagination could be called rugged
she shook her head
“There’s a line of women out there
waiting,” she said
“So? They’re going back in time
maybe now
just maybe to never come back
same goes for you
aside for pain management
I might be your last chance ever
loads of history
a lot without humanity
you’re aimed at 600 CE Arabia
making you a Muhammad hunter
is that right?”
Kay didn’t answer
“There’s been quite a number of you
and you may end up there
or not…
What do you say?
One last tumble
orgasm guaranteed
I’m very good at cunnilingus.”
“Shit on the self-assessment of your skills
and send me on my way.
Does this approach ever work?”
Kay’s fists clenched, nostrils flared
the operator
cocked his head and said
“42% of the time.”
in a frowns width of delay
Kay removed her gown,
laid back on the cot,
said, “I want at least three,”
having quickly concluded
coming was equally important
as coming back

Libertatia of the Gods

July 19, 2015

From beyond the distant
low ridge of hills
the blast could be heard
and felt
as it sent a plume of earth
and thick black smoke
a mile skyward
in a pillar to the soot heavy clouds
filthy rain bombed the lake
and pelted the roofs of the homes
until all the houses
were the same gray
as the anguished landscape

train tracks had been laid
in a senseless chaotic jumble
old coal burning cars
erupted in billows of swirling dark cumulus
from hundreds of tunnels
bore into the far mountain side
only to plunge back
in deranged loops
into the interior

sailing the ocean beyond
great oil tankers cracked like eggs
emptying their bladders into the sea
massive whorls of pitch-slick colors
writhed with dying life
sea birds, seals, fish, dolphins, crabs
all caught in mammoth blobs
twisted and tangled
like a fistful of night crawlers in soil

toxins from strip mines
flowed into head waters
and down rivers
carrying carcinogens and disease
to man and beast alike

forests were razed and burnt

fires roared open and wild

factories that manufactured nothing
sent rank fumes rising into the hazy air

crude was pumped and uncollected
left to run off into dead valleys…

who they were
and why they came to do this
we were never told

upon their arrival to our world
immediately, as their first order of business
they hired lawyers from every state
every country and local municipality
these counselors chose a single defender
to represent the aliens, who,
having more wealth and power
than all earth’s governments combined
they heeded no law
obeyed no regulation
opting instead
to pay the easily afforded pittance
levied as a fine against them
and so it went
for over a hundred years
and then they and our every resource
was gone or wasted beyond use
but weren’t we all glad to know
they paid their dues
every last penny of every last penalty
and thus justice was done.

The Polish Incident

July 3, 2015

Veiled surveillance was aghast
a staggering seventy-nine systems
were fully xenophobically occupied
by the Pierogi,
a sentient species so-named
for their resemblance
to a stack of stuffed dumplings,
pale gray mottled in brown patches,
but their incontinent stellar diffusion
wasn’t why VS was appalled
it was the breeding cages
eight of them in total
hardscrabble worlds, prison planets really
although, every planet’s a prison planet
if a species has no means of escape,
and that’s the rub
Pierogi mating stock
were simply unceremoniously dumped
this was the sort of thing
long debates tended to
when to interfere –
eugenics was a line crossed
it was time for unveiling
down the well the expedition went
and as I’m sure you can predict
the decision to contact in this manner
yup, colossal fuck-up
turns out their species had a reason
for both their general isolation
and more specifically
for why they kept
designated fuck worlds
immediately upon touchdown,
after introducing ourselves,
and embarrassingly,
stating our mission,
which of course
was to liberate them from erotic tyranny,
they went into heat
the flat curved edges of their body segments
shook like whispering gelatin labia
quivering quim flapping in the breeze
the sudden resultant orgy was global
every last one involved
including, inevitably, us
our genetic material was absorbed
assimilated, added to that of their next generation
the contact crew was screwed senseless
all of them: deaf, dumb and blind after
we fixed that though
grew new bodies
and at their request
purged the violation from their clone mind
for myself and posterity,
I kept a copy of each ones’ experience
frightful stuff:
nearly drowning in genital froth,
choking on seed dispersal bombs,
skin rubbed raw under the vigorous undulations
and heavy pettings
and now
like idiot adolescents
we’re parents
forever married to the Pierogi
and their newfound, horrific

Bottom Beast

June 22, 2015

What they reminded us of
quite distinctly
was the dominant co-dependent species
residing on the waxy planet-moon
in the lower Mesolite sub-expansion
where the majority
are born brainless but spectacularly strong
and the minority are all brains
but otherwise helpless
if you recall
they do not form bonded pairs
but instead
the muscular idiots are completely subordinated
catering to and protecting the intelligent cripples
tending to their every need
beasts of burden and their masters, yes?
it’s very similar to what we found
in the new spiral’s upper wave far-arm
there’s a clear cut top animal
which is terribly proud of its evolutionary heritage
some members so much so
they deny relation to all other life kinds not them
while at the same time
proclaiming the virtuousness of humility
delightful hypocrisy
we had a good laugh
but back to the point
the powerless, hungriest, most-defenseless of them
provide the entire support structure
that maintains the most powerful and well-fed
99% do all the work
1% reaps the reward
what’s more remarkable
is unlike the unbalanced dichotomy
of the Meso-moon feebs
the lowest on this water-oxygen planet
possess the equal reasoning skills
and logical abilities of the highest
yet somehow
they are kept in their base roll
as slaved-drones of the elites
it’s deliciously paradoxical
and we will spend more time in study
but in the meanwhile
please enjoy this gift
on Earth they call it a maggot
soon, it will sprout wings and fly
then what it does
you’ll have to see for yourself
because you won’t believe it
it’ll literally feed
off the nutrients in your excrement
splendid creature, really super
oh, hey, here’s a thought
do you think it inspired human society?
I wouldn’t be surprised if it had
not at all
that actually makes sense
maybe we can close the book on this one after all!

Damn Aliens

June 16, 2015

A bit confusing but not entirely inexplicable
look upon it religiously if you like
kind of a day of judgment
resurrection of the dead thing
or see the situation as it is
the monomaniacal pursuit
of a ferociously advanced alien species
determined to absolutely
never ever
in no damn way allow
any single experienced mind to wisp into nothingness
time and space are no obstacles
and when that’s the case, shit gets hard to grasp
so, like, say you died in 1994
it’s then that their dusters swept up your soul
unless you had Alzheimer’s or dementia
or a brain damage of a physical nature
in which case they collect your consciousness
before its onset or occurrence
everyone’s immortal – it seems simple
except you died in 1994
they harvested your head in…
well, a year so far out, man
it’s a meaningless number t
hey came back for you, for your brain
end result
you don’t exist for billions of years
but to you it’s continuous
although you know it’s not
because on their far away planet
they hadn’t evolved until…
again, way in the future from where you were
and furthermore, once developed, their technology
which allowed them to get to 1994 in the first place
also allowed them to shunt their technology back
back to the beginning, therefore,
now, please focus
you’ve always been
even while you once were
living that natural life of yours
with Mom and Dad, cousins and grandparents
but since you existed before all that
and since you failed to exist for eons
is it you? really you? or a trick?
for example
you’re reading this now
you have yet to be dead
but there’s another you
present since just after the big bang
that’s what they say anyway
here – somewhere – right now
kept going in their alien soul cage
and since it already was you
it doesn’t give much of a shit about you
they won’t explain the physics of this
usually an inquiry provokes a shrug
a dismissive wave of the hand
and a curt, “Bah!”
thus even the most scientific oriented
must accept it with a Kierkegaardian leap of faith
making even immortality
an unbearable mystery
filled to the brim with idiots
pointing to a lack knowledge
an absence of information
and shrieking their ever-living afterlife heads off
about God
fucking depressing that is