Animals (rant)

Hate and revenge? Difference, why? Meltdown compensation. 
And just because I don’t understand why, am I lost? 
Sailing away, on undercurrents, from Hades to Hades.
I gave away my innocence and then they took it. 

The chorus. The squabblers. I became a story. 
The story. The only story ever told is a complete lie. 
Youth. No budget for the whole truth. Arms and legs missing. 
An egg. And if I might be so bold as to assert that it was 

when I was a preteen that it came down, like the laws of Moses
that the everyday is political, like a hammer, like a gloved velvet hand 
that squeezes. Like in 1972 Vietnam came to Philly. I’m a Gulliver still
getting squeezed more and more, til my insides are out.

Invisible ink, I understand now! What is the theory of this? 
An anti-history, or possibly an absence of it all. The shocking truth
of how the Anarchists couldn’t agree with the Marxists 
at the First International, or when that Buddhist monk

was sitting so erect and he’s burning like a candle. 
And my acquaintance, Kathy Change, she did the same
over on Penn’s campus near that button statue next to 
the post-modern library, the one that has its back to the street.

If anything I’d like to understand modernism and/or
postmodernism in terms of proportion: pre-modern 33%, 
good old modernism 33%, and post-modernism 34%. 
So the scales are tipping! Ever so slightly! When, right now?

Or next week? AI can translate and then the last barrier 
to a singularity will be gone, I expect the apocalyptic slide
to become un-refusable, oh about July 2029. I predict one
of those dates popping up like 9/11: 7/28/29. 

Seven twenty eight twenty nine! If only I had a voice! 
No wait 7+2+8+2+9=28 so two+eight=10 which is 1, 
One 1 one 1 one!!! The singularity, oh no! 
Oh yes!