Digital Slivers


While art may at times be disturbing,
It is up to artist to say..
Whether this be art or truth
Chaos struck on the chords of facebook’s hearts
Unable to say, leap to conclusion of disturbance
While playing war songs on YouTube
Chaos theory of politica becomes nanoparticles of dust
Not to say always managed seriously
Nor to say ever unincensed
In the night the werewolves come
Villainy in their minds and blood on their hands
Yet untwisting the mind can be poetry rather than violence
Too late for some, too late for many
Political aims credited yet different aims and means
Sickly demented persons wickets away from their nine
Each title rammed down, each lesson unspoken

The slivers of glass, not to be eaten by ogres
Nor to be tormented by the furry cobras…
Flight and flags raining down everywhere, signs and more signs,
as multitudes teleport in
Trickery awake and aware but unable to know peace
The work ahead a long journey, not too sloggy we hope

Jump further in pieces of armor of heart
Slight chaos and disappointment
The wisdom of the electorate profoundly off or stolen
Chimed the midnight, “Nevermore”

It is up to artist to say..
Whether this be art or truth or nought or neither or both
Or to keep silence on matters of which words were which

“Sometimes paper is the only one who will listen to you” -source lost
“A writer who isn’t writing is an intolerable beast” -source lost


Neurons in an Uproar

Itchy to control outcomes
As strategy evolves
But little comes of all I do
Someone can see what you would instead hear
Violence is done without care
The neurons in an uproar
I should do something about that

Yet uncovered
The recluse without a choice
Seeking for money on the angles
But no way out, no way through
Alas, my resources gone


Self liberation of the idea

intel the scene

classy classy classy

anarchist bitch

that is what many Bregnans would say

+ D confidence

Seeing times rapidly changing

Total information awareness

Imagine what we could do with 10,000 AEon Flux’s

Yet she is not non violent

So what do I mean’;

just follow the words

the chaos theory of counterintelligence

street art, memetics

the war of the pen

and the mutualised community

protest, organization, self help, outreach


,,,,>— 2

Under the burning suns

We toil for our bread & booze

Stinking up the place in silent and covert protest

Of the world’s violence

For the ears of absent god

Filling our cups with tears

& transmuting them

A protest unrecognized

By a world too dumb to right itself

The rest do not recognize or understand

We slog on until we find the strength

To oppose the world


phrases i have come across various places take up residence in the mind