One of my monikers in life is “screw the algorithm,” in rebellion to the lifeless calculations that often subtract from humanity and divide humanity. This poem is such a rebel cry.
Screw the All Gore Rhythm
The death machine is exceptionally tooned
And spectacularly contrived
Completely fed up on life
It’s proffered fool
Assault of the earth people
Duressed up as victims
Complicit in their own weigh
Illiciting a symphony of violence
A negation of every kind
Gaping into their rational eyes
A praising their vacuous souls
It’s awe in their mine
Art less morality
Too the maxim
Buy all rites
Ours
For US
Creed is good
Others knot sow much
In efface of such a parity of humanity
A leveling canon
Swearing by
An unending mount of figuring
Sum thing a bout division and subtraction
Yet in the coarse of time
In the end
Merely a tally whacker
In an increasingly code code whirled
Making US
Wanna bloody dance
And throw up our harms
As acclaim
On this accrual planet
An epic flail
Red he to rumble
To all gore rhythm
What choice
Might we have
Thinking not
