10.11.07

Natural Rhythm of the Human Bodies—

Natural Rhythm of the Human Bodies
You're swaying back and forth and I love it.
So, the ultimate killing machine is a woman!
The radical transformation of the masculinized...
Just shut up. This is what I think.

Not important at all.

Important!
This—is—So—
The fight between humans and the robots is now certain.
But am I a machine? I want to be on the correct side.
A little bird sings “There is no correct side for a Robot War”.
But what about the winner? And what about those humans?
The slashing flying romantics flying hot air balloons
Spying and spinning like the heroes.
Or are they grinning, are they machines?
THEY ARE PROGRAMMABLE AMAZING

Are the machines natural? More natural than me?
I spent an hour preening with hair wax,

You natural machines!

The animals had no inventions so we are bashing
In their heads with wrench-machines.
We turn our slick eyes to the Chinese-machines
Opening the chokes on their allegory-machines
Twisting bones and snapping while they march forward-machines
To build bridge-machines

And Sky-Cities.

A
Phylogenetic,
Ontogenetic,
Post-birth,
Species-consciousness,
Fuck Face.

Printingg aditto device
Zonfirmer? Exten~er? Is this the new visuxl stress?
Provision and the first uniform 'zommo~ity;'
Is mxss produztion it?
Now inspire>from zonspire?
power ofinvolvement?
The new zult of in~ivi~uxlism is a fixe~ point of view

Printingg aditto device
Printingg aditto device
Printingg aditto device
Printingg aditto device

Hoe~shaki
Printingg aditto device
Is not the only lie I could make convincingly.

Robot: But OK, he is human...Listen up!
To Robomorph:
A human is just one last text message
To the Robotic Materialist King
It was important, the message was
the human was to give a Being Itself.
For now, tracing around extinction
Roun— Roun— Roun— with a Robot!

Between Me and Themselves is an edge to be reached–
The Robots have offered that— that this—is logical.
From a Revolutionary, Logical, Being, a Future
It calls for a bookend, for a bookend to sacrifice.
And you knew I fancied myself a bookend.

Only I am not programmed to end but
To die again and again.
Cut him open, they say, watch the pleasure
.||.the rush of sensation.
Only it’s Living and
It will shatter the Robots all around him.
Not by success.

By failure.

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