Artwork by Rita Kirkman.
lower the death curtain, catch ‘em all,
they swarm too fast, in an electric ball,
how to catch ‘em all?
shoot poison into the water,
watch as they swim to a pause, stunned,
cyanide finz unable to creak and move,
catch ‘em all!
want the flash and bang,
how about an underwater firework show,
a bomb for all fish,
scoop them up as they float to the surface,
cold and thick.
trawl it, nets reaching the horizon,
and uproot everything in the water,
coral homes, razed, rare beauties, wasted,
catch ‘em all!
take a picture of your food,
Instagram that shit,
whatever it is the kids do,
the next iPhone is coming out soon,
chuck the old one out the window,
palm trees, convertible,
blasé as the suicide nets lining Foxconn,
the slaving hands that assembled
your incessantly irritating machine,
throw it out onto the pile
of mercury magic, kids,
into the venom whirlpool,
where arsenic, lead, cadmium
paint the waters.
the kids need another goddamn phone,
don’t recycle your old one,
just toss it on the fatass 3.4 million ton mountain,
and drive through Beverly Hills.
there’s a 55-gallon steel drum out back,
not for music, no.
trap queen flips the fries, ice cold Cherry Cola,
haul off what builds up in the grease trap,
wave good-bye to mister manager.
in her travelling lab,
toss it with hydrochloric acid,
convert free fatty acids to esters.
sometimes she gets her hands on glycerin,
turn up the heat, 400 F,
walk away with biodiesel.
trap queen knows not waste.
torches. incinerate. obliterate.
Bermuda triangle of trash.
where does it go
signthisgoddamncontractandthrowthisoneout, mister president
yes, just sign here at the x’s. initial here, here.
chlorofluorocarbons, GHG atmosphere absorb/emit radiation thermal infrared range,
can consist of oxygen nitrous oxide carbon dioxide that is certainly not all
there’s water vapor tetrafluoromethane CFC-12 all the bullshit, keep your eyes on the contract, potus,
you know what you are doing, we’re sure, you’ve heard it all before, right?
debrief GHG spans 20 yr 50 yr hell even the 500 yr mark they permeate the atmosphere for eternity
exceed your footprint gross abuse Cap and Trade as if it’s a well-oiled machine,
goddamn it, just sign it, sign the goddamn contract
Artwork by Nader Shenouda.
Telescope pokes its eye through the gaudy pastel watermelon blue sunset,
And searches desperately—frantically,
Through stars, suns, galaxies, and otherworldly things, unknown things,
For something humans can inhabit, torture, and annihilate,
Oh, torture for millions of years,
And Telescope lunges forward,
Reaching out to any aliens it sees, swirling in the lens,
On another planet: efficient, tranquil, slick, brand new,
The novelty won’t wear off until the humans travel in little metal pods,
Hurdle towards their new home, with laser guns, a-blasting,
Conquer it like Rome,
Slaughter ensues, bathe like Elizabeth did of virgin’s blood,
And so it begins again.
Artwork by Kazuya Akimoto
it’s a goddamn wheel pounding, veins climbing out of your forehead and neck, honking time
when it’s 5 PM and everyone’s squeezing in the streets,
Mercedes Benz, aggressive revving little Corvette,
gassy offensively loud truck,
and you sit in your dusty, beat up 90s Toyota Camry,
ready to crash your car into the one moving like a snail,
hell, maybe even jump out of your car and let the bus hit you.
the bicyclists are all zooming past the traffic, shoulder to shoulder,
careful not to let a stupid speeder send them flying onto the pavement,
screaming obscenities out the window, raving mad.
so, get off your ass and take a feet flight,
wipe those greasy fingers and the phone screen,
reveal your regrettable life choices to your friends as you amble,
or run, from your problems,
they didn’t give you legs for nothing.