Biographies of...

The high noon came like lightning

and thrust tentacles of life

into the barrel chests of midday manikins

Lit up like Spartans

they frenzied amidst their townspeople

consuming fish bones

, sour grapes

, labor

and all unloved things

to prove it was never so

; unloved things

and manikins

The Monster & the Machine: The Monster's Prophecy (IV)

"Do you understand now?"

Its fangs dripped with my glints of dawn as we sat in the
     winter's silence

"Are you still now? Are you obsidian?"

I feared we would regret this; with our heartless futures and
     unspoken songs

"We will live enough."

But what of the Astrologer's prophecy?

"I am your eternity. I am your prophet."

I meandered and meditated and mourned for our
     decimated carnations

"Your carnations, not mine. I will make you a king."

The Monster circled me stalking my words and my wants and my
     imagined destinies

"Are you obsidian?"

And it stretched forth a talon riddled claw

With all my fighting will I could not deny the neon pigments
     shown through a Kryptonite God

"Do you understand now?"

Here the tales of EveryCity were told

Here is where the EveryColor was born

Iridescence was us

"All the god and universe you could dream of..."

So I flailed out a hand, all rotten with apathy and intellect

And the Monster gripped it feverously with prophetic knowledge
     of black days

Throwing up my limb, stripped naked, the Monster declared
     new order

"All hail."

The Monster fused with me and vindicated my birth and became
     my father

                                                                       Spring had come.

The Monster's Genisis (--)

When I was a young man I remember patroling

Observing, through a dark open space, between glass cubit walls

Litanies of bodies frozen in their immortality for our entertainment

          It was art

          It was science

          It was a terrible thought

And I focused deeply, for what could have been years

For what has been years

On a the mummified scurry of red and blue railroads that brought all of our parts to life

         All the flesh shed away

         All the bullshit drilled off

         All the life that flowed and made us went for miles

And I saw, so firmly, this same core in winter trees and satellite roadmaps

So foundational I could have believed it to be everything

Until I drove across the map and climbed the trees and found no minds

          What minds?

          What souls?

          What Jared do you speak of?

Now, years later, The winter had come for me

And an icy wind blew over my naked face and stomped out that which I thought

Was a roaring fire, but revealed, only to be the shell of match flame

What are you, Jared A.D. Radtke?

I am a servant

I am a toiler of details who seeks perfection

I am a conscious, a moral calculator struggling to smiile

I am a hefty eye-high pile of social principles and right doings and justices

I am a yearning for completion, for stories untold to be told

I am a renowned fantasy of locomotive progression

          That is what you do... But what of Jared?

What of Jared?

What of you?

Tell me!

Tell me, you! You, reader of literature and poetry

High-minded aristocrat

So fucking articulate and untouchable

You, bleary-eyed liberal with all your cool books of thought

Munching on your hyper-fucking-organic corn and carrots

You, upright citizen, Jesus.... YOU!

Tie strung tight ready to suck affixated cock!

What

                      of

                                        you?

What if I were to tell you a gray tale

A gray tale of a gray boy

Of whom the world did nothing to...

                  and nothing for, either.
This boy was the creator's chalice
And this boy can't do math
And this boy listened to rage all night
And the boy resented the world for nothing
                  - as far as a boy could be concerned
And collapsed into fantasies
And found a modus operandi promising life eternal
And everything was for it

And when he realized reality insists upon the departure of roses and good luck charms
His fantasies promised to stay and made a pact
                  to always stay
The fantasies grew fangs
To clench departing roses and charms

Now the boy has lived for ten long years
With a monster on his back
Now a man, he is thanked for it every day,
And the Monstor too.