To Charles Bernstein

Lives will surely be lost, es
pecially the valued and valu
able ones’ history returns as
his story’s hysteria wisteria’s
woe-begone wonders of mili
-tary mighteous myths the shit
will go on as the gold of the gul
lible the value of the valueless
the justissed of the injusticed
The I of the many I I I s will not
be vanquished into many me
me me s WE may be killed and
the killing will not stop even if
the killers kiss their killed no
retribution no getting nowhere
to nought in a matrix of murder
ous mushrooming mounts I de
clare I in the form of the many
do die in deathless death as they
live in the death of life to reveal the
future hidden in the futile lives of tr
uth you frame the world as through
a world of righteousness as you live
in the wrold of wright and we go like
a flapped mirror floating on the moors
of might.

Zeyar Lynn

Bernstein in Hong Kong

Bernstein’s in Hong Kong
But Charles is his own king
He lets da man talk and talk
While he sings his bawdy songs
To jelly the Bernsteinian rock.
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I Saw An Ideological Construct In The Sky

I saw an ideological construct in the sky
A sort of joy
Floating amongst the clouds
Formed by dead cells —
A ray that seemed to have lost its way
A way that seemed to have lost its day.

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Sorry, no issues today bro,

Says he between his red stained teeth
the operator of the wrecking ball
As he spits out his betel-juice
Life’s ok..the world’s still there..why fret?
The immigrants never left their war torn cities
Who ever said there was a war?
Black flags never flew over terrorized rivers
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They’ve been here a long time. So long

that their stench is engraved in the mutilated air. Airpot of immobility. Except the flight of
airyones into holes in the hidden blue. Never to arrive, or to arrive again and again against the glassy faces glued to the glassy air: tell us what’s it like? What did you find there? What they want to hear is what they want to see. In the mirror riddled with riddles, wholed with holes. Continue reading