Bionic Luddite // Tyson Bley
* Another piece by anti-universal translator poet, Tyson Bley. Please use the guide from the Zizek analysis a few posts below to understand what he’s on about.
HAL is just a computer in a moldering wall,
a sick marshmallow tit, quirky ambulant proudflesh
thwarting an old mattress. Unclogging HAL’s yolk,
the plunger twitches; a space-nerve vacuuming the
margarine soul of a sore slain in a form of birth control
that separates by picking bare. It’s just the way we
humans will prevail over the machines: our
breathtaking bacon pollutes with its bloody trajectory.
HAL’s treacly entrails’ frowning dump. Our bucktoothed
composite spine teabagging the symbolic insect,
turning tricks in a commercial rather than a slasher.
Underground human augmented with soap on a rope,
holding a greenhouse loftily atop the cataclysm’s
foundation, painted saved, retouched with
ChapStick against the painful, desiccant rinse
of space. Until pimp clot goes bump.