im burning
out from within
a reverse
shot of gin
i am incendiary
a solar flare
flammable. handle
with care
a sorry lost soul
patching nightmares
through my clothes
if only to awaken
to you
holding me
close
until god
fulfill
my dream
catch me burning
drafting
steam
#katyamills
fentanyl hit the spleen
overdose became mainstream you
lost so many friends and legends and the sun still rises
the light still wakes you under
your angel hair cabbage you
formulate a mission you play with memory you
love and live on
and on
and on
#katyamills
Culture! On the rise. On the thoroughfare of decline. How much a paradox, culture. Always. But why? This became the question for the intelligentsia and the intelligence community to unravel, or turn and grease and turn through slippery hands and minds and collective politically-based idea factories in all its holographic glory so to cover all possible aspects and leave no stone unturned between heaven and all hell;
touchscreens by iphone
mapped by google
imax projected
rubix cube on wheels
virtual pac-man (on miss pac-man)
codified
doublemint, latex-sprayed, triple helix, malleable, homeland security shookdown, std- proofed, double your fun, confessional-sanctioned, pope-approved, double your pleasure, avatarian recreational. Yes. Tasty technological treats borrowed from the highest ranking military and intelligence officers’ quarters somewhere in death valley, near a secret desalination plant airlifted by drones from Dubai in the middle of the night many moons ago, just so many unknown miles from the alien docking pads to earth, drowned out by the lights and sounds of the postmodern resurrected Las Vegas metropolis. And vehemently disowned by the Administration. Yes. Tasty technological treats, tax-appropriated out the yingyang circa 2001, handled by the freshest natural born citizens with the cleanest slate records and very possibly robots or droids or blowfish poisoned, shellacqued zombies-4-freedom
USA – genotyped
anthropologically- profiled
fingerprinted and man-handled
cornea-scanned
debugged and rooted, microchip implanted, samsung manufactured, cloud-protected, supercomputer hardcopied…with an added feature of complete and unlimited playback * of all lawfully yet non-transparently gathered fresh NSA data, mined exclusively from you and that dude who lives next door to you** until cancelled at anytime.*** Guaranteed current and fashionable (though maybe emaciated or soundbytten or heroin chic) and filtered of all administration-branded nonsense (including the trade journal or democracy-when? kind). They performed such wizardry from their desks and satin stitched loveseats on backyard balconies jutting out of their ivy hideouts. Or else, for those with the proper clearance who were constantly mobile, through remote desktop controls permeating clouds with passwords and repititious ID scans in the nondescript (and unsuspecting) offices of community college mudhuts across the country, or, in cases where time got crunched, free wifi local coffeeshop hotspots created and protected easily for short periods of time across the grid. Always cloaked, though purportedly transparent. Wherever.
Unfortunately at times the two were inseparable. The circus and the intelligence wrapped up trying to find meaning in it. Increasingly ineffectual… all this was made quite a bit more restless and anxiety-prone inside the collective heads of the pushing 350 million population, where the diminishing rate of return
of dopamine
of serotonin
of norepinephrine
by the heavily taxed 99% of neurotransmitters getting fucked with****, under auspices of heavy pharmaceutical rotation, toward an approaching parallel yet still tangential moving target of drain and leaking of energies on the vertical axis of collective coping mechanism function. Which translates to something really potentially ominous on the horizon, which you and me and your mom (and the Beverley Hillbillies, too) within our greater cultural context, could not , cannot, and may never be able to afford. So Sorry! Please move aside and make room. Next?!
* for 30 days, on American taxpayer credit, to be charged $9.99 thereafter a month for continued use, if necessary or so desired
** ‘you ‘ denotes any US citizen anywhere, on or off American soil. See the Patriot Act for further reading
***in a flex plan catered to current political unrest akin to arab spring but potentially closer to home
**** just like us
by Katya Blue
k in denim by k
, 07/13 katyamills.com
When i was a kid, long before the WTC towers buckled and fell, I lived with my mom, my dad, my brother, and our little dog Buttons in Massachusetts, south by southwest of Boston. We split time on a lake in New Hampshire, long before the Patriot Act was signed into law. The snow would accumulate so fast and furious in a big stormfront. The blizzard of 1978 was one of those times. Everyone got snowed in, then. That’s what we would say, if someone called and the power lines were still up. We’re snowed in! To us kids back then, these were glorious words!
This man in the news today, the one who ignited the now public and politically charged stormfront regarding data mining that has been carried out without our knowledge but (sadly) within the law, flew to Moscow today out of Hong Kong, and is waiting to get a visa en route to Ecuador (where he has filed for asylum). His passport has been pulled by the State Department. He is accused of espionage. His life enjoying the freedoms we are given as U.S. citizens, is technically over. He appears to be in the front of a very short line of those willing to stand behind a choice to share a storehouse of classified information with the world (in wikileak fashion). Purportedly. He seems to have ignited another round of disussions in the public forum worldwide, regarding the repeated and incessant violations of privacy of citizens in government-sponsored intelligence gathering campaigns. Campaigns which, in the United States, are most likely legal (though widely regarded as unconstitutional) under the difficult to swallow generosity legislated by the Patriot Act at a moment in time when fear ruled the land. Now he is a wanted man.
The plight of this man stirred up my memories of the blizzard of ’78. He was not even born then. And I was still sucking my thumb. Feeling the feeling you feel when you are snowed in. New Hampshire gave us the opportunity to get snowed in, several times each winter. We spent the great majority of our time in Massachusetts in the winters. Though only a two and a half hour drive south, the winters were significantly milder. The difference of a few degrees on the mercury, meant the difference between snow and frozen rain. Most people and my parents, preferred to suffer sleet than constantly shoveling out after being snowed in. (tbc)…
Katya Mills, June 2013
K IS SILENT 