In the Dream Time Long Ago

Nova coughed galactic stardust
Life and celebrated human
mind
dust cosmic in the console
teletype terminals
simulated screens
eterm, aterm, xterm
fixed width font
in color
"everybody has one"

energy is information, information energy
that is all ye
terminal, console, screen
poetry of information unrestricted
data in our veins
chaos in our

"well I won't say it,
but it rhymes with
rocks and runts
(tee-hee tee-hee
chucklechuckle
chucklechuckle
tee-hee tee-hee
chucklechucle
chucklechuckle)"

"...believe me I can help you
if you'd only let me in
believe me I can help you
if you'd only let me in..."

(not by the hair of my
botox chin quim)

the medium is NOT the message
the medium is a box
the message is ashes
to ashes to dust
to
self-LOATHING
not for failing to "become"
society
to "measure up"
but
failure to find free
"Out, out, cracked pot!"
faiure to GET OUT
from under
The Man's Panopticon prison

wave His flags die for His dreams
His wars
His domain
His creatures
of habit, ritual, autistic, doomed...

Mumford page one
"Myth of the Machine"
says
we are less than
says
we are nothing
more than semi-rational components
of The Machine
and damned
if he ain't on to somethin'

wrote that in '67
hard-cover first edition beside your
"Doors" and "Sargeant Pepper"
in the station-wagon/Volks-van
summer of love draft card burn your pocket
deep with California dreamin'
mega-technics
and the
demigods who love them

suckers
where is your Chicago Seven
now?