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The Monster Molecule by DARPAâ„¢

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John Hawkins
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The Monster Molecule
The Monster Molecule
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The Monster Molecule by DARPAÃ "ž

by John Kendall Hawkins

.

I.

Cookie cutter monsters, mangled mango pie

for brains, are coming to your damned village with their molecule --

Evil-Anger-Hate --

to drill down into your child's brain with probiscuity

to suck the young virgin light out of their minds,

slurpy slurp the stem cells of human consciousness, yummy,

like a mosquito sucking blood and leaving behind malaria,

these black hole vampires of light leave behind the monster molecule

and from then on children are sleeper cells awaiting dark Woking

no education can hold them back, no religion, no Good walls can contain them

schools will force-feed read them Mockingbird in the morning

and that evening there's cotton candy glee at the lynching, teacher presiding

at the Strange Fruit Festival, plums dangling in the air,

blindfold pinatas sticks kids hit until they burst

and the koan guts fall out. We don't want to believe

there is such unqualified evil in the world,

witches and warlocks, creatures with abracadabra skill sets --

white voodoo boys pins and needles mafia above any rule of law --

Spanish Inquisition Catholics: Saturday cleanse, Sunday absolution, Weekday mayhem

God as a racket, boffo deus ex machina types with meaty hands.

O, it's Salem all over again! Danvers loony bin up the road.

.

There's always a minotaur looking into a mirrored maze somewhere

grooming, mooning, crooning "Singing in the Rain" like Clockwork Oranges

a maze created as "He-They" makes their way through their proofing pudding

alpha doggies with omega tail-holes in a speed circle at the mouth

like the animated Tasmanian devil, until cause becomes effect,

and Alpha connects with his own Omega tail, Big Bang!

constellated firmament up the sweet patooty,

now we all gotta pay for the doggie way, kennelheads

barking full moon mad in orgiastic ritual dances of release without joy.

Do you know where your children are tonight?

What's your doggy's name?

II.

One finds as one grows old, older and oldest

that things aren't what they have ever seemed to be

that the seeming black-and-white assurances of the Hank Williams era

no longer apply in the cusping technicolor quantum world we've entered

and that AI is already here reprogramming us

enforced by the thugs who think like machines already

to rule us in our dying days of extinction and savage us with sin

Cainites not born of Adam's Rib, forgottens

exiled from Genesis come back to finish the so-called Tempter's work

Paradise Lost

.

You see them in the Deep State

You see them fighting wars, more blood and treasure, tossed

blood and treasure squeezed from the punch clock lives of men and women,

time as money, $6 trillion dollars of time x 20 Afghan years for nothing

You see them in the elites, the Sacklers, oxycontin, new exhibits at the museum

You see them in the buffering middle class, the white picket fence smiles of entitlement

You see them in academia controlling the language of dialectical deceit

You see it in the mass psychosis that accepts a Lesser Evil system of choice

You see it in the end of the world we've warned ourselves about since The Fall

.

Cain and his raised ones are on the loose, mark the mark of

Who is Cain? The oil people. The Pentagons. The morbidly obese Bigs --

Pharma, so they can make billions off bad vaccines from spill over viruses

Agro, who make billions off GMOs and envision a world of drone honey bees

Fast Food, who see drive-through jungles relieved of rain, billions and billions made

Poultry, where it takes a tough man to make a tender chicken

Data, where math has been put to work to steal your "soul"

Russia, 100 years of fear of collectivism, used to crush unions, fair wages

Bezos, shlong for a symbol, who sees fulfillment centers on the moon, union free

.

Cainites all, humanity means nothing to them and you can see it in their eyes

Cainites, where humanity represents spenders and consumers of economic growth

fat fucks as fat farms for Big Fuckin' Fooled Ya Hoo-has

Now back to the Two Minute Hate, children:

McGovern 1972. Nader 2000. Trump 2016. Freedom 2024.

III.

Eliot said it would end maybe with a bang or whimper

Frost thought ice would be nice and would suffice

But it's looking like madness is in store, a Shock Corridor ending,

where nymphomaniacal capitalism where Marxism picks its nose

where the Stones of Venice are collapsed by the laughter of dead geranium madmen

We won't be able to cope losing our middle class lifestyles we had coming

Return to the cave with all that quantum energy bursting in us and no grids

Back to that silly kids cave wall drawings of bison as mystical animists

If your smart you'll guard your watering hole while you still can

In my end is my beginning, Eliot also wrote.

No More Secrets
No More Secrets
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John Kendall Hawkins is an American ex-pat freelance journalist and poet currently residing in Oceania.

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