Poem Collection I

Preamble

So this is a collection of three poems/non-theory work that I wrote, they were originally published in the website of my writers’ collective, https://catastrophic-site.neocities.org/ , but I’ve decided to upload them here as well as they are commonly fairly personal to me, so I feel like they should be here. I’ve written four so far, three of them being uploaded to the site and are the ones that you will find here, while the fourth one I will upload separately. Enjoy.

Unbecoming

What am I

I cannot find myself, I place myself unto myself and look around nothing that I understand,

I am not that, that is true, and I’m not that either. It seems easier to find what I’m not, But

It slashed, it cut me, it entered me, it penetrated me, it became me, it should be me, it makes me, but yet it is not me. But not because it is separate, no, it is connected, grafted, it is outside me, my property, it makes me. It makes me, so it is me, it should be me, But I cannot see it as me because I cannot find me, and where am I.

I am not in the crowd

I am not in the church

I am not in the future

I am not in the past

I am not in the market

I am not in the mountain

I am here, inside me, outside me, everywhere but me.

I cannot feel myself anywhere, but I do feel myself, I am happy when I feel myself, I can see that there is me, but what elements make me?

There is a feeling, a thought, a consciousness, it functions like a spring, it flows, and I flow from there. Yet it also not me, it binds me, constricts me, shames me, hurts me, I am not one with it and it is not one with the outside-me, it is not one with the rest. It has been categorized, it is something, it is else, different, outside the outside, even though outside is me I do not fit there, I am different, divergent and more than that.

I am more than the flow, but what else am I? I cannot see anything that I can move, that I can feel as myself in me, there is the beyond me, I despise the beyond, the meat, disgusting meat, bones, wretched bones, body hair, my enemy, I despise it all, it is not me, it is my prison, yet it is me, I find in it also pleasure and salvation, and that is me, It allows me to go beyond me, to interlock with another meat and stop being me, free myself from me. When not there it will also save me, it can be me, yet it is not fully me, it will never fully be me, it is the meat, disgusting meat. It will morph into something better, I hope, will it then be me?

I am not sure, then I become the whole, and what am I as the whole? Am I clay? Am I wrong? Am I meat-and-flow? Am I nothing? The most convincing one told me I’m a factory.

Machine-like, meat and bone and blood flows through the machine body, it produces me, it is also everything else, it is all me, it sucks, it is horrible. I despise it and I love it.

But I do not fit, everything does not fit in itself it breaks and it cuts and it bleeds and it falls and it bites and it crushes and it goes away.

I am inappropriate.

I am beyond I, not just beyond me, I am the sun, I am the grass, I am the wall, I am the semen, I am the blood, I am the bone, I am the sky, I am it, I am her, I am him, I am them, I am nothing. Nothing. Creative. I am nothing at all. With this I’m free to be everything, burst forth like an orgasm onto the world. That is me. I go on, I stop, I go on, I stop, I go on, I stop.

And then die. And then I’m nothing, no longer me.

Insides of an Organism

I want to gut myself                                                                                                                 Let it all out                                                                                                                                   Use a very pretty butchers’ knife for it                                                                                     slice it left to right

I want to see the blood spilling forth, my guts screaming out                                              I want to do it in front of a crowd, atop a balcony                                                               So to all I can announce, yell with all my might                                                               “I’m Living!”

Too long has the pressure kept my guts in                                                                               Too long has the blood flowed inward                                                                                      I’ve only felt oppression in my body                                                                                          I want to let it all out

I want to feel the ground, see parts of me jumping out of the impact                                 Land next to the crowd so they can all be next to me                                                            
I want to feel close to the ground, far too long have I been away                                         I want to feel close to the crowd, far too long have I been away                                           I want to feel a thousand hands touch me, fondle me, claw at me, beat me, push me, pull me, mall me, grope me

I’ve only ever felt far, I want to feel the something else                                                        My skin has far too long kept me away, I want it out                                                            
I want a thousand hands to tear my skin and hair off                                                            I want to be flayed, to show my naked body in all its meat and blood                                 Far too long has the red of my being been away from the outside air

I want to claw at it, at the meat, I want to give the pieces of meat to those around me    I want my loved one to reach deep inside me, where a hole was made in my gut              I want them to play with my heart, to squish it, to crush it, to pull it apart, to pull it away                                                                                                                                              
I want people to feel my voice, my flesh does not do it justice                                             I want to claw at my throat, forcefully pull my vocal cords out                                           
I want them to have it

Far too long have the cold and the darkness held sway over me                                           Far too long have I only felt staticness and the freezing ice of oblivion                              I want to light the flame inside me, I want to burn completely                                           
I want to scream, to let everyone know                                                                             
“I’m Living! I’m Here! I’m Free!”

I don’t want this will to be away from my body, but it will                                                    It will leave a corpse, a beautiful corpse                                                                                   I want this corpse to be observed, I want it to be felt in all its dimensions                        I want my blood to course through the land, infect the very ground.                                  I want to live, I want to exist. For everyone else as well.

The Genesis of Transmutation

For the past few days, oblivion has been tormenting me. The violence of meaning weighed on my soul as heavy as a star. A great tyranny of things stabbed through me repeatedly, and I had been made to lay on my bed, defeated, my tortured soul calling for oblivion. That was the torment, my torment, the private torment, the self-made torment.

In one of those dark nights, as I floated through the darkness I wished to return to, Le Soleil called to me, its blazing glory filling my body like a holy spirit. I had taken for myself a gift, its light giving me vitality, it spoke to me, and through its words I was convinced. By my own volition I’ve decided, I shall kill the great Tyrant.

As I got up from the bed there was no darkness or light, only material, only my flesh, the wood of the bed, the wooly comfort, the stale air. I turned to the Tyrant, there it stood, facing me directly, in its crystal case. It followed my movements, imitating me, while remaining confined in its rectangular gate-window. I raised my fist, and mobilized all my vitalities to strike him down, my flesh weapon making contact with his flat glass body, it shattered on impact. 

The Tyrant reduced to tiny triangular shards of reflection scattered throughout my room. It damaged me as I hit it, its sharp being cutting through my flesh, making me ejaculate the red of life, the finish to this erotic ordeal. Once done so Le Soleil called to me again, its vitality invading my room through the closed door, inviting me to the outside. I opened it and outside I saw the beautiful nature, Le Soleil in all its splendor, it everywhere but also in its own spot. In a nature of one-thing-multiple-things, and I part of it.

Ahead of me there was the path up the mountain, the mountain of the great aristocrats, as Le Soleil touched me again I felt the energy of a thousand rebels, and realized what was to be done. I grabbed a knife with me and began my ascent, I hopped, I skipped, I spun and I sung, I sung hymns to heroism, to those who came before and to those who will come after, to the great violence that will liberate, to the coming red flood and the eternal action of liberation. I was joyful, I was alive.

I rose up the top, above the clouds, there at the peak was a great pyre, burning in all of Le Soleil’s glory. I looked at great Soleil, and proceeded with the ritual of my liberation. I removed all my clothes, throwing them all the way down. Then, I took my knife and turned it to myself, slashing through my skin. From there, I peeled myself off, removed my skin so only the red of intimacy would participate in what was to come.

I walked into the fire, calmly, letting it kiss me and love me. I then once again took my knife and turned it to myself, this time aiming at my chest. I pierced a hole, and cut further down to make it bigger, I then threw the knife away and entered the hole with my hands, grasping for my heart. Once taking it, I raised it up above my head, letting it bleed over me, and gave it to Le Soleil, so I could take from it.

After it accepted my sacrifice and took my heart away from me, I smiled. I turned my attention to the fire and I fully immersed myself in it, I fucked it, its shape overtaking me. I did not turn to ash, instead, the blaze and I would become indistinguishable, my shapes lighting up and morphing until I was part of the great fire, dancing with the wind.

The fire danced and it sparked, roaring in victorious glory. Soon however, the movement would begin to be captured, a territory once undone would once again begin to be reconstituted. The dance of the flames began to make shapes, it would make feathers, and from feathers make form, and the form, a great bird.

From the fires I raised up my wings, with a quick motion I took flight, and I flew, flew towards Le Soleil, so that I could burn again.