All-In-One

We call it an all-in-one.

It brings the world to me;

to ME.

It alters my view.

The world is now.

The world is now me.

It helps me see this.

This is what I see.


– poetry from tewkMehrtin.com

Attainment For The Jesus Brain

I have a TV in one room.
I go into the other room to watch the other TV.
Call it the Hall of Wisdom if you want.

I drink my sodas at the half hour of every hour.
Call it the Sacredness of Life at this point;

the Hours of Opportunity,
the Attainment of Ability;

purchasing.

from AntiPoemus.com

Millennial Sheeple Fetishest

I wuz
masturbating
to that new app that
came out
cuz when I’m dying
I wans sumz ones
to take my digital phone
and shove it down
my throat
to save me.

Saturn

Saturn come to destroy
the M-16 deliverance

a wall falls
on a family of peasants in China

the free world elects a president

a tyrant takes his post in the leftover lands
of Persia

technology beats the bayonets

a tank crushes canisters of food

somewhere at latitudes north of northwest
Saturn is crushing the spark of
new gravity

Saturn is man’s holy alliance,
his walled cathedrals and the
tapestries of mosques

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Melville Inth Synthesis

Why is it that the Pacific should not
claim
the streets of San Francisco?
Tyrants en forme,
technologists, the correctors,
civilization saviors,
the autistic logic makers,
. . . the pizza bakers.
Puff crust one is the pizza oven.
Golden long long, far away is night
and naked and to the West,
strangle the forgotten college students,
the hefty educated.
I tie my ropes to be born in Pacific.
The ocean moors the fall,
. . . and the rise of the Privileged.
Stupid earth becomes water.
Smart rockets churn on to Mars.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Living In The Midwest

We received clothing from a factory.
It was after the first winter.
We ate our meat out of cans.
It had all come from so far away.

Who knew about this technology?
Who knew anything anymore?

Tomorrow we set out across the plains
to find it.
Our first winter has come to an end.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin

Both Brains

They let him go
when he was young and dying of cancer,
drifting through outer-space
they let him go,
the last people’s race of people
didn’t own him,
floating past nationalism and liberty
as cancer an eternalness created
archetypes of the sufferer,
the fear of the shadow,
just the vessel of the genome,
we lift you up to the cluster,
the ridge of stars.
Child without childhood
reaches for your fingers,
the seven wrinkles,
your chance to perceive things

but it ran away with the forms and
words of humanness,
just the vessel of the genome,
information is transferable
in
this
standing in a field before a 7-11®,
a parent kisses their child at college
in Kansas.

They got to go to college,

wave, wave . . . waves

but wave to the abilities of Einstein,

those crackling transmissions of the
Pentecost,
those crackling wavebands of gray.

Jesus saves.
Computers save.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Nothing More Can Go Wrong, Chicken Tenders

In the backyard is a plow.
No one knows quite what to do with it.
It sits with its wood rotting
and its iron rusted
as a sculptural piece in a flowerbed.
There’s also a grave for a hamster named Dinky,
a stone, here by the plow,
painted with neon green and pink fingerpaint.
The stars are silent.
My grandmother would not agree with the situation.
She would not have belief or comprehension of it.
Her wrists would bleed and her feet would hurt.
She would have misunderstanding,
befuddlement and fear.
She would not discuss.
She would be worried to be in this place.
Her eyes would twitch and her brow would crinkle.
It’d be a look your gut would decipher.
I’m pretty damn scared right now to look at the plow.
I can’t look up.
I can’t look at the garden or the birdbath.
I know the oak trees stand there brooding over me,
thinking
“What the fuck are you people doing?”

I don’t know who is wrong.
If anyone can even be wrong anymore?
If we can even do this or that?
I think genetics are dead or
they are living.

I don’t think we can.

I am a box.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

The Holiest War

In Portland, Oregon somewhere at some point in time
we found a home for ourselves.

It was not a home in a place,
but the first home to ever exist in Time.

We ran through the streets.
We sat on a beach. We fingered each other.
We ate birthday cake and exchanged our body fluids.

We flung wars to the Earth,
and wars to the mountains and the seas,
the wars ended up drifting off into eternity.

We saw the cities of the future
and lived in them in these days,

the people who are made of the ocean
and the unimagined technologies of light,

you and I,
the players of time,
the mechanics of cellular overloads,
the owners of whatever we should be,
the oligarch destroyers.

Inventius! and Realizer!,
conscripts for the Holy War Of Time.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

A Tempori

Ten years become twenty.
Twenty years become thirty.
Thirty years become fifty.
Fifty becomes one hundred.
One hundred becomes three hundred.
Three hundred becomes a thousand.

The bones of humans are salt and fade
and the beach is as new as the sky.

The thing that I purchased was bone.

un-hundred is doing best the duty

so is un-thousand, for you, your ego accept

we
left
purchasing
the
birds
feed
on
far
understandings


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image