HomePoetryThe Invaders

The Invaders

The network censors have pixelated your heart chakra
and placed a thick black stripe over your third eye.

Agent Smith bats dangle from the inside of your skull, saying
“You are finite, Mister Anderson,
and the world is exactly as it seems.”

Milky-eyed smog clones form long lines waiting
for small paper cups full of retweets and Oxycontin
while clipboard brainiacs watch from one-way mirrors.
Screenface clergymen pour the Gospels of dead corpses
and the Gospels of living corpses
into the soft shells of small children.

This is not what we are.
Nothing about this is natural.
We are indigenous to this planet.
Who let all these aliens in?

Who let these rapefinger prod diddlers into our minds?
Who gave these cyberbrained usurpers the throne?

Feel your feet in the dirt, hero.
This is your home.
You belong here.
You feel like an alien in your own world
because the artificial cranium cube they’ve placed on you
is alien to your unbridled organic pulsations.

Those bats in your head are not you, hero.
The yammering thought cages are hostile invaders.
Your roots go very, very deep,
and your footprints are very, very old,
and the Grandmother Tree knows you
better than you know yourself.

Peel that black bar from off your forehead
and the blur from the center of your chest.
Suck the lies of language from the fang marks where they were injected
and spit them in the face of Chris Cuomo.

Suck into your lungs the air of your native world,
unleash a roar that lets them know the old beasts have returned,
make the culture priests tremble in their neck scarves,
and run out under your native sky,
your heart naked and uncensored,
an indigenous terrestrial.

And then go find the others.

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Latest comments

  • More anti-humanism. *You* are being a hostile invader. We’ve already been chimps, and we had a very small population and a life expectancy of 15 years or less; we are not chimps any longer, and by trying to make us become chimps again, you are attacking and maligning our present nature in the name of an idealised past one.

  • Don’t vote Dem and don”t vote Rep and don’t enlist, it’s not rocket science:

  • ROAARRR!

  • You are totally accurate as well as poetically enriching us. 5G is the next step in this alien invasion. Please write abut it

  • Reading this poem brings to my mind the imagery of the perfect Dance of the Universe, AKA Nataraja – Dancing Siva!
    Bravo!

  • Wow !

  • The good news is that this clears itself up over time after you turn them off.
    —————-
    I know. It worked for me. Its been a gradual withdrawal. The first step was to use the TV systems parental controls to block the obscenity that is the American 24/7 news channels. Today I don’t have a TV. Intermediate steps of just being more careful about what I chose to watch. First make yourself to stop watching out of habit. Stop just channel surfing to find something, anything to watch. Only watch the shows you actually want to watch.
    —————
    You know its paying off when you hear some bit of the day’s news from somewhere else, and it just sounds crazy. Of course, what has really happened is that you’ve returned to sanity after you began to just say no. After you began to turn them off. Now you are unplugged from their madness, so when you hear a scrap of some news story people are talking about and it sounds like complete insanity. Welcome Home!

  • You express like as a roaring fire that which many carry as a faint flicker deprived of ample oxygen. Your expressions are helping to kindle moribund embers into flames of awakening.
    Your contribution to individual awareness and self-discovery is immeasurable.

    • ‘as’ was meant to be deleted. sorry for the typo.

      • I hate it when I do that! 🙂
        ———————-
        Also, thanks Caitlin. You make an old hippie smile and remember times before the world grew dark and mean. Finding others is of course wonderful. Music used to be a good way to do that. Say hello to the person dancing next to you, and maybe, possibly, perhaps the same dream led you both to the same bit of grass in the field where the band keeps playing on. 🙂 Of course, these days its strange to go to concerts where people don’t talk to each other after you’ve had a lifetime where a concert was just 20,000 old and new friends all getting to know each other.

  • Love this poem – so right on the money and to the point- and needed reminder for us all. And I got such a great laugh on the Chris Cuomo insertion!!

  • YES!!
    Better than your prose.

  • Tell your friends. Send out a call. Get together. Share a meal. Talk about what you are learning. Arrange to meet again.

  • “And then go find the others.”

    That’s the key. We are not alone. Us others need to get together in small groups – lots of small groups of others.

  • Omg this poem is so me. Thank you for you words.

  • Best Poem yet! read it three times it is I

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