Omega Symbol Cereal

Posted by Erik Moshe on Friday, March 1, 2013 Under: Poetry

The computer chip was as much an amalgam of El Dorado if I’ve ever seen. Inexplicably linked by the jewels of antiquity and new age morality, the microcosm might’ve almost passed as justification for the macroeconomics of foreign gold reserves. Where the World Bank makes bank off of the World, and pyramid builders, stone masons, men with Byzantine work ethics and a snarling disregard for despotism take to the same praying grounds that welcomed Malcolm X to Giza.

The computer chip was as much an inauguration of dark energy as president to the living, known and unknown universe as Donald Rumsfeld remembers statistics. Or Plato remembered where he put his bookmarks. The basic cosmology model shows that 73% of the universe is made up of it. Consequently, it must hold a large stock in the human brain as well, because too much of it is comprised of empty space. If the universe is expanding, then I have no doubt that our consciousness is capsizing. Modern fortitude of the average individual attention span is said to be experiencing historical declines. Where is our Big Bang? Where is our Greater Awakening? Do we need a messiah to trigger it or can we achieve it through mud and brick and getting our hands full of something substantial beyond rhetoric or religious pleas. We’re messing with too many variables here - polytheistic polygamy.

I need a break, and if a break consists of an afternoon sitting in front of a computer chip powered computer chipped because it got knocked against a door on a military installation in Northern Iraq, then I propose taking it back to candlelight, a tent, a stack of papyrus and antiquities. In the Middle Ages, we didn’t know what we were missing. IPods, you say? I’d prefer Ramses clarinets, or a not-so-compact representation of the village people with United Nations memorandums strapped over their shoulders like peace-bullet-firing-cannons. If I preferred the sounds of NATO, maybe you’d propose a symphony that Troy’s walls might echo into post-Poseidon’s far eye. No headphones are needed when a man is attending a festival of light, like Lord Rama’s return, or the Omega symbol lit on fire at a dusty market in Cairo, just for the theatric effect. I am the alpha and the omega - you are the burnt out hard drive with a fried USB connector… breakfast of the gods.

No one is innocent if you factor in being in the wrong place at the wrong time being attributed to the size of the Earth and the density of the population. Moral conduct isn’t at its highest peak, as you can tell by the mass media (oh, how I love the spin Rupert Murdoch puts on African resource land grabbing) so I am led to think of cities as a prelude to Fallen Babylon comparisons, automatically, without consideration of a reboot or a system virus scan. Human nature is a unilateral entity; always was. If something is too perfect, there is a side effect. Refreshing water in a natural stream meets malaria. Leonor Varela gets old. The 10 Commandments get dusty, and men start questioning the validity of banning adultery. “Be adults about adultery” seems to be the predominant edit in life’s forum. Emeritus life forms, I hope you’ve educated your young to a scholar’s standard.

Ibn Ahmad is an Arab name. Maimonides is a Hebrew name. Herodotus sounds Greek. IBM will see to it that The Matrix Trilogy becomes a reality, only it won’t look like the airborne machines have excessive dreadlocks. They will most likely look like predator drones. Their concept art design will pay tribute to the War of the Worlds tripods and an artillery unit loaded with martial warfare upgrades. Self destructive chess pieces that may take the whole board with it, if all goes according to (doomsday) plan. IBM is rumored to have the mark of the beast on the market as we speak: the problem is, it’s plastered on Mike Tyson as a facial tattoo, too afraid to ask him to release it.

In : Poetry 

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