the Lecturer

Professionals talking retro, classical shit
Opaque, acrylic vocal cords
Lecturing flowers,
imparting instructions on which way to turn,
which face is the right face to face
Blinking rapidly in perpetuity
Pretending greatly
Specialized and heavy

I always just slept through most of my classes. I knew all the shit already, anyway. It’s just giving terminology to talk about stuff I was born knowing. It’s updated, like when they made it so the zombies could run, but it’s still the same shit.

Amateurs talking their shit on the internet
“A tremendous amount of order”
(Wagner-Pacifici 88).
Hate stares and sour frowns
Of Man, By Man
Bomb First, and
Never Stop Learning

These fucking guys—and it’s always guys, isn’t it? even when it’s women, it’s men—talking about they’re doing you a favor, disabusing you of fairytales. They’re just replacing them with even stupider fairytales. Like when they say that only a father can teach a boy how to be a man—like a mother isn’t capable of fucking them up, showing them how to blame and hate. Facepalm.gif.

Abandoned stadiums that haven’t been used
since the Olympics they were built for
Answers ricocheting,
boomeranging,
coming back around regularly,
getting themselves all over everyone
Vomiting digital camouflage
We say “Shoot”
when we mean “Talk”
A chorus sounding like sunrise
The shit slaps,
like an abusive husband.
It’s, something
or other.

“The truth is electric
and it spreads, spreads, spreads…”
(Cleaver 118).
Bow your heads.
Let us pray.

Nerves,
Mega.
Raw,
Forever.

Works Cited

Cleaver, Eldrige. Soul on Ice. Delta, 1968.

Wagner-Pacifici, Robin. Discourse and Destruction: The City of Philadelphia vs. MOVE. University of Chicago Press, 1994.