6 to 9


looking at producers/ originators
scrunching pictorial mores,
champing musical scores
running the chores,
the impending
narrating the new brain
blind stamping the brain,

telling you …
won’t be relevant if you don’t become cyborgs …
listen …, actions amplify steps
it’s method, maps.

what do we need to focus on today
to stay valuable,
to create a world that you would love to live in by 2052
resting on 2 mobile landing pads,
called Just Read the Instructions, the other Of Course I Still Love You?

a scottish writer
sprinkled with stardust
hitched by musk,
sings about
something that grows into and around the brain as
the most consequential variable in the world
serial entrepreneur,
the root problem of humanity,
let’s change it from below the neck
and up,
starring down chins,
to target:

Oh, brazenly self-abandoned god.
good riddance,
wasn’t it
thomas münzer they wished to be the crazy god;
god is crazy, sartre said
is its life predestined ?
here, there, no access granted
love is not a free choice
it’s fate.


oh dear, you are responsible for the chip
is the chip your duty?
on the right side
you see liberty
on the left, equality, actans … maybe?

vibrant matter
the son who was his own mother’s incongruity
of the people, for the people, may be?

drugs, heir mugs
perpetual mutter
extreme poverty,
lair of concentration
or poetry
or sovereignty gasping for words?

remember los angeles on the 5 th of Dec:
“you got a choice to make, man.
you could go straight onto heaven
or you could turn right, into that.”

Bang …
that way … 50 blocks of concentrated human humiliation lies down
tools or fools
or the loss of face
neural lace
switching to
bachian or bacchean notes of BCI singing:

i hate Building 8
unless it’s a hammock in which boto appears as silent memory of injury
no longer a prosthesis,
sipping up diseases,
smoking plasticity in a pipe;
let go of saint pie-in-the sky.

–Martina Gertrude Siebert