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Kk de La Vida

Backwards&Beyond_UrbanRifts

 

Part I: Bullet History Inside the Rabbit Hole

 

follow a bullet

blast through space-time

(( evolution in e(=mc2)volition ))

of an old border bunker

war memori-all wall, fallen

flash   ed        forward  ed

from mass fascist to artist

$democracy$

divided     whole

broken in bit(coin)s

assemblage xXx wreckage

ascend///decadence///dance

amuse amidst miss of madness

control cloud9 dream-time

me-matter++accelerates++

if strobe light multiplies it

so start to dance queer speed

but clock’d guns gone green

screen - SCREAM ;

(con)front / (con)fusion

eyes blink I’s brink

 

////

 

b.r.o.k.e.n.

bullet poetry

based on brief

summer episode

inside modern european city

of nation-state & euro.union rule

once organized between opposing

geopolitical forces through a physical

wall collapsed to foretell fascism’s future

in global mono-control corporate capital;  

this is dedicated to all those lost lovers

who dared & died to cross over other side,

  • your dissolution shall not conjure disillusion;

    it is to you whom i now write; 

           thank you T FFF XXX 666 : : : 

    memory code will now

    shotgun load in 

    1 . 2 . 3 . . . . .

    Part II: Recovered FB(eYe) Files: Freedom Bubble Experiment

 

(A foreign stranger in B,

post-communist European capital city,

selfie snapshots for Facebook.)

 

1.         “Take a picture of me!

 

I want to remember myself here.

And post it later for everyone to see.

That I’ve been here,

That I’ve been free,

of fears & tears & tragedies.”

 

“---digital pixel private exposure

            this, pretty please tease!”

 

: Once upon never-forever exists in fiction

/friction flip-side of all ‘fairy tales’... as piece

/peace is (war). <repeat>

 

  1.         (Meet metamorphosis of metalMiddle Earth:)

     

    The landscape is a lost postcard.

    The city is an air bomb shelter.

    The concrete is a hollow history tunnel.

    The tower is the key to the castle’s door.

     

    Inside is a prison cell, a dancehall, a darkroom,

    a cubicle, a television set, a radio, a restaurant.

    Inside each enclosure rings a chorus chamber

    like cloud’s puppet shadow thundering bullet skies,

     

    The sound is a stranger’s shout out.  

     

                (There is no memory of what happened here,

                 [before war].)

     

    3.         (I feel beat of boom, subatomic-‘I’ loom doom)

     

The steel spire in the high-rise system

spikes our eyes & ears in electric ripples,

like rip of time in an air raid's rumble bombs

bunkers, telecommunication lips bloop blips.

 

            (I feel frequencies fly conflict in corporal coordinates)

 

The terror of technological error soothes

& subdues our sensorium into submission, like

ideology illuminates lullaby, quiets insecurity

of crying child, broadcast news lies live.

 

            (I feel signs carve curves in cerebral cortex corners)

 

The erected emissions of man's ambitions animates

an alien state’s dancing rhythm to ride blind, like

memorial parks built to remember brethren

killed, mass media mimes memory mania.

 

            (I feel sounds click neurons to neuro-tic-tik-tick-tock machine-mind’s noise)

 

The reverberation of state e-radiation results

in endless night ritual ruckus ('fuck us'), like

echo tower of techno power marks minimal

step to stop mix of madness, chaos controls.

 

///

 (The industrial architecture of modern vector nucleate-

engineers interior world of wannabe-free-me psyche/

psycho stranded silent on island of city virus wires

without will, walls or words against invasive winds/

storms. [wars])

 

4.         (A freestyle

            speech

            breeches

            borders of order:)

 

“Well, hell, here I come

            unwelcome, unfurled

like future hurricane flow,

            a worldly wanderer

connoting climate clash,

            who wonders

what’s to   foresee,     

what’s to    whether forecast,

 

            if this is it,   if this is fact,

            if...     time conditions topo-tempo

            if...     [so]

            if...

 

fascism is still in fetish fashion,

    politricks will plastic trauma’s

past trash in leather & latex limbs

    crown clowns think glitter pink

royal plot to clot vessels in play toys

    a-void vortex to repress rubbles’ rebels

build a blank people’s erased existence

    in an etch-a-sketch ego in a tweet-me box

behind a massive mercedes-benz arena

    spinning silver flickering middle fingerprint

along (post)communist wall’s public art show

    by river spree restaurants serving bars on boats,

mono-control money concrete backdrop afloat,

 

...if so,

then...

            place a dart in postpostwar’s dramarama

            capture a counter-logic corrupt-code

face a cut in ol’ wall, a hole

face the television set, the box

face the photographer’s lens, a blackhole

            here goes                     a car

            here grows      forget-me-not flowers

            here is a show to remember like a tower

capitalism’s rise

in a...

SMILE!”

*camera flash*

</repeat>

 

 

Kk de La Vida is the eco-erotic avatar/naughty nom de plume of a tropical islander traveler who left FuckForForest.com. Though no longer with FFF, Kk continues to explore the creative power of human sexuality to help ecology, currently pursuing an MA in Media Studies at The New School and co-founding the CosmiKnots collective (cosmiKnots.tumblr.com). Kk's writing is published in Cliterature and Milk Journal, forthcoming in Snapdragon, DREGINALD and The New Engagement. Follow Kk's fairy trail of pixel dust on kkday2day.posthaven.com and instagram@kkdelavida.