The Final Sound (a poem)

Staring at these screens, I wonder

if I’ll get sucked inside and live in the vastness

of our Great Collective Unconscious like so many

writers have prophesied.

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The Hate Machine (a poem)

Step into the Hate Machine and scroll down

and see the venom – It’s the information apocalypse:

Keep scrolling ‘till you feel dread and inject a diatribe into

the living, breathing Hate Machine – the collective angst

that rolls, rolls, rolls like an unstoppable force –

our mouths foamed, teeth bared, claws sharpened,

ready for a feeding.

(Photo by rishi on Unsplash)