Short Electrodes Poems

Untether my blood, for it is cruel. 

Sanity drips from my veins like gruel. 

As my web of failure becomes unthreaded. 

I feel I am unheaded. 

As delusions that are kind take hold. 

Not as strong as the electrodes, I am told.

As I find my desperation to escape vanishes. 

They set me outside with all the other banishes....

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With three arms and three legs, 
a face that's disfigured and small,
he crouches compliant 
and strokes his electrodes.

The men in white lab coats are laughing.
They treat him just like an amoeba,
poking and prodding his body
with needles and probes.

A subject for scrutiny under a microscope,
there's no humanity fueling his bones, he's bizarre.
Bioethicists say: 'He's a man with a soul!' 
but what price a soul if you're born in a jar?...

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With four arms and four legs, 
a face that's disfigured and small,
he crouches compliant 
and strokes the electrodes.

The men in white lab coats are smiling.
They treat him just like an amoeba,
poking and prodding his body
with needles and probes.

A subject for scrutiny under a microscope,
no humanity fueling his bones, he's bizarre.
Bioethicists say: 'He's a man with a soul!' 
but what price a soul if you're born in a jar?...

Read More

With three arms and four legs, 
a face that's disfigured and small,
he crouches compliant 
and strokes the electrodes.

The men in white lab coats are smiling.
They treat him just like an amoeba,
poking and prodding his body
with needles and probes.

A subject for scrutiny under a microscope,
there's no humanity fueling his bones, he's bizarre.
Bioethicists say: 'He's a man with a soul!' 
but what price a soul if you're born in a jar?...

Read More

With three arms and three legs, 
a face that's disfigured and small,
he crouches compliant 
and strokes the electrodes.

The men in white lab coats are smiling.
They treat him just like an amoeba,
poking and prodding his body
with needles and probes.

A subject for scrutiny under a microscope,
there's no humanity fueling his bones, he's bizarre.
Bioethicists say: 'He's a man with a soul!' 
but what price a soul if you're born in a jar?...

Read More

With three arms and three legs, 
a face that's disfigured and small,
he crouches compliant 
and strokes his electrodes.

The men in white lab coats are smiling.
They treat him just like an amoeba,
poking and prodding his body
with needles and probes.

A subject for scrutiny under a microscope,
there's no humanity fueling his bones, he's bizarre.
Bioethicists say: 'He's a man with a soul!' 
but what price a soul if you're born in a jar?...

Read More

                  Program the brain
                       with positive intervention -
                            Shock it with poetic
                                electrodes.

                  Connect the temples
                         with godlike influences.

                  And always remember,
                          "Sip some poetry soup!"

                                     "Okay?"
                                          - "Okay, then."...

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