A fake poem by an non entity called Acryllic Figa

A fake poem by an non entity called Acryllic Figa

tsars like russian oligarchs
like white supremacist cop tasers
like bullydon boys in pork

tie and blazars like a global air born disease
Severe Global Airborn Rightwing Syndrome

Fly: Selected Poetry

by Steven Pratt

Link: http://a.co/3of5XFj

sgars across the planet
tsars and czars and little zazen
little father men
busy character armourin’

in tsars we trust
and i hope you bust
free from such tyranny
of we

to me you see the we
is the tribe of all around the world
humanity, the gene pool fool

we domesticated primates
with a god complexity
all together born of a mother
mates buddies sharing ecstasy
of blood flesh bones and skin
same same where begin
or bigend to mend

breathing together in
a masked conspiracy we blend days
the task: get from out the hell basket
mask and anti-mask it
in art and out art crafted

uplift the message of you to us
to me to them and to all
address the good people with general
assembly with put on a slight texan drawl

ladies and gentleman
i speak to the clique’ clearly upon
the tissue of otherness
that which is not me not mine to wine on
seems foreign to me like

phantom energy to teach me
about we to mean me and the others see
the other ‘me’s’ wrapped in TV series

on wide screen watch me’s
an old set of theories
that stereotype ‘me’s’
mixed up with beery sneer ideology

fictional ‘them’s’ and made up ‘me’s’
by screen writer devils and the
analytica sleaze
ad monster men 

well mark these tears
in coming years better learn
to know yourself dears
and get real cozy with you’re inner ears
me you and them shifting plural gears
and try to understand cuz’ 

it might take yonks

you and me maybe not so different after all
each tense about the other
often a squabble sometimes a brawl

similarity and difference hence me
and you to me to mean you as all humanity
the cosmos and everything
under the sun correspond
without within above below
beside the next beyond

you there in the mirror mask
with my face on it let me ask
where did you get my voice
the imitation games bond
nearly spooked myself

you and me or ‘I’ and ‘we’ for want
of better terms
to flip the coin and the perhaps
open a can or worms
heads or tales tribes or tribe
plural or singular
you get the vibe

plural brings choice and reason
the many the mixed the all in betwixt
unhinged unfixed and the difference again
and so on eventually with
flux the doors flap the cards are dealt

a choice of more than two
non-binary that’ll do
a verb cooks to progress
to accept the new data
broad and wide varied yes mate

the difference engine runs the differdance
evolution standing innovation
ability utility stability and levity
for personal identity
in quantity and quality crisis

divisions categories things in time
the men with little hands wave us
back to the bronze age with slime
little heart small brain big head
the great hoarders

with walls and borders
banks tanks gangs and
midnight marauders
and the tsar in me and the
tsar in you
security comes with maturity
pull down thy vanity

it maybe the anti-tsar in you that
dictates that as true
but who to blame who to same
who whoming who?

how to distinguish the others
by name birth sex age race
the tsar in you like Tony the tiger
brings out a certitude
a truly fictional comic enemy

to retribalize to trail blaze unfazed
picking up history of the new tribe daze
walk the maze of history
with a ragbag of poetry
astro black mythology and Yussef’s

what complex of origins fossils and maps
which gene pool ocean
what train which tracks
to binner bouter-space
I’ll see you there to turn tsars
into stars and space into mental

gently astonish
we all become one
and outlaw the bomb
my tribe our tribe stop
the punishment

gravity pulls its historical point closer
but this hysterical joint jives
with my flow i will not utter his name
no lets just go

to the PR architects of doom
stunt men and supporters of the balloon
i pour whisky on your forehead
put acid in your salad cream and
jelly in your bassoon

trash machine messages to you
and a note to myself
know thyself know the others
do not be afraid to come out
from under the covers

come out come out
wherever you are
this is a message for banker
king MP tsar
we tsars too so don’t tell us
what to do

word to the wise to the
women to the poor you
are the majority
and you own the authority
to open or close your own backdoor
spectacles testicles
brandy reefer we think perpendicular
to the left/right griefer

to divide with pride in one side
not the other you dig sister
feel me brother
the other is a brother from another mother
stop hating and stop with whatever
be clever

play the game to tame sameness
unearth difference honour presence
being here in another’s shoes
cruise in the walking blues
running back with clues
past me’s and past you’s
in your ear and in your eye

out this coded substitute i try
to split identity with senses sense
up your nose and out your ass
this little rhyme

with no pretence we humans share
same sense organs grinding
the same hardware finding
manufacturing code hatchings
same lab or factory block
perhaps a different road some different rocks

equal and opposite others mode
only the software differs a toad is a toad
we are one family of individuals
so division of biological sameness
begins to slouch toward the heart
and minds of the people

divisive PR operations build on
precisely these divisive data fields
stalking us divisively
the psychological dead-visions
departministry of propaganda goose
lies and deceit

infected by sgars syndrome
cambridge analytica
a weaponized language machine
designed by artists stolen by masked
military industrial endtertainment

a thin line right here—dear reader—i feel ya’
this writing is an open invitation tweet
me a turnfable technician
on a mission to gain a laugh on my feet
a paragraph with rare groove
make it new and make it

move by fluke or chance or crook
or no such luck look me in eye
tell us your tales tell em’ all

once and for all on the wall
in the hall scrawl: in anti-masks
we lie, next to the bar
everyman and everywomen
is a tsar

for Bob.

—Steve Fly


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