Here is one of the poems I wrote in 2000 which was included in the ACCAnthology Volume 1
Later I fed it to a speech synthesizer... [if you like that sort of thing... let me know I'll post a link to the mp3]
It's a cyberpunk in a small red capsule... a bit of free association and skewed plot...
A spoken-word by synthesized voice MP3 is available HERE
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Smoke from Mexico
Smoke from Mexico
Or maybe some Cloud from Bogata
or stolen memories from that desolate Lab
Outside
Las Cruces, was it?
I don't really remember any more
I can't say what I want
Cos the memories are sealed
Yeah. They got to me.
It was not that hard.
If they want you
They'll get you.
Don't believe me?
Try to run when
they've got your number.
The name is in the Database
The one you want.
She is alive.
They'll have erased me
by the time you read this.
So don't come looking.
There won't be anything left to save.
I hear there is a shortage
of major organic subsystems
never did like dealing bio-logics
didn't understand
how they could unravel a brain
and reassemble it into a q-dot 'face.
Hear you're hunting him again.
good luck
Its the self that you don't know
that always spoils it.
You know that voice
you hear
there in the back of your mind
the one that speaks to you
when you pick up the phone
and dial tone does not answer
the jarring sense that the escalator
should be moving
and it's not.
white noise.
the voice that sounds
too much like the voice
you'd imagine Death to have.
A regen transformer
causes it to reverberate
its well modulated ravings
like a long, long distance call
a hollow one-way rant
annoying beyond belief.
It's always *that* voice that tells you
that you really bent over
too far this time
this time they'll get you.
I know
I'm rambling.
comes from having
too much to think about
and too little time
At least for now
I can look out across
the polluted water
And see it
see it rise like
the life I have lived
Black, Billowing, Bellicose
I started there and I finished there.
What kind of life do you have
when it is only
a poetic fragment?
a snippet of code
easily rendered by an RNA sequencer?
What sense of truth is there?
The mathematics of billowing smoke
is more etherial and more beautiful
that seeing the cloud itself.
But it can't be explained.
Why did I do those things?
Why did I leave you behind?
Look.
Can you see the equation now?
I wasn't much of a Dad.
Hell I wasn't much of a human being.
but I left you where
at least *I*
wouldn't destroy you
The Smoke is changing to gray now
They've got some water to it.
I won't be here much longer
They'll come
and that will be that.
What was that equation
Outside
Las Cruces?
Or in the Cloud from Bogota?
A child?
A tear?
A sorrow I cannot undo?
I'd ask your forgiveness
but
The wind has changed
I am finally lost
in gray
Smoke from Mexico
