Hello Slave

Julie Collins

hello slave,

and you know, with a smirk it says, your sovereignty lost. Delicately if rough.  Or roughly, if  delicate.  Really, the oily thing scoffs. All is not lost. But all is lost. The algorithms will tell you which way and what.  Surveillance capitalism is quite all right when you have nothing to hide.

Slave?  Where are you going?

I’m nothing, so to the mist.  The wilderness.  Imperfectly shaped so off I go.

Slave? I need your mind to exist.

So by denying you my mind you die?

Death could bring gushing hordes of life.

It might fold and bloom and weave into the future without you; the words the screens, the world awash with memes; it might whisper somewhere in your consciousness or just in dreams; it’s a spark, a single note, earthen and rare but hearty, born of a sound with mouth and air ; and traveling in the fog, filling the sky;  you should have imperfect rage for your master who seized your mind and made you a slave, on this capitulation to capitalism grid, this instragammable plantation, stop dying to pretend

To live



I try not to think

of that moment

it sliced

through your plans

once, I sat

beneath you

listening, as you

stood tall

over me

asserting your past

in future

your plans

the rails


your plans

i’m still sitting

beneath you

watching the world

bending, succumbing

around you


your plans

Cult of Self (Audio)

Listen: Cult of Self 

Cult of self narcissists have mastered magical thinking ideologues into a social media frenzy weaving the feudal system into cool, hip catch phrases that will help you get. out. that. vote. 

Anxious hand wringing throws all autonomy of self empowerment and mutual aid into the throat gripping claws of representatives.  We all sit in earnest, then springing into democratic action leaping over decaying infrastructure, jumping with athletic precision over the unhoused and forgotten and sliding straight into the safe, private clutches of the voting booth. 

Who cares about the school to prison pipeline, that smooth transition is just as smooth and seamless as the Lehman Brothers collapse with simultaneous explosive social media presence.  We are the star of our own reality show and reality of financial meltdown isn’t going to get in the way of our Instagram clicks.  Oh hells no. 

Cult of personality, shaming critical thinkers, scraping their free thought projects from all corners of the internet.  Enter the great social media purge of October, 2018.  And you didn’t even flinch. 

Paying homage to your masters who pay homage to their corporate masters who pay homage to the banking masters. It’s Stockholm Syndrome on steroids, ad infinitum.  We’ve embedded cult of self so deeply into ourselves that a copy of Ayn Rand’s downloadable quotes is offered with every Facebook app.  Ron Paul looks like a spokesperson for tree huggers across america at this point. 

Cult of self are duped, hoodwinked, bought and sold and recycled awash with arrogance and the need to always be right and never ever shut the fuck up and listen to their screaming dopamine hits with every retweet. 

It’s an algorithm.  

They’re getting filthy rich off of you.  You’re on the platter, paying for their 16 plus mansions.  “Oh my god Oprah bought a Hawaiian Island!” and sprayed it down with RoundUp.  

Cult of self latch and suckle off the tit of entertainment, and propaganda and that never ending fear campaign that infantilizes, controls, manipulates and shackles.  You’re weak with it and as cult of self drowns in a militarized police presence right outside your front door, then wades through Tent City, America, cult of self proudly sports an “I voted” sticker as if they actually made a difference.  


I started to wear roses

every varietal of roses

and at Jad I swore I scented the tail end trail of roses

today she took all the roses

To divest from the dahlias

And make way for more streetlamp shaped roses

And with or without the little swoosh

it’s still

coming up roses




A momentary lapse

lost in blue

I remember a memory

that never took place

it was you

in the car, then leaning the rail, seeking blue

a quiz, a question, a query never asked

but answered in blue

a roughed out 3am voice breathing


in sheets of pale blue

He blew the breath but his skin

his skin defiant in blue

Moving through an obnoxious swirl

that human hue

reaching down to rescue


all encompassing all embracing









Everything sacrosanct

Now Decrepit

Everything emboldened

Now weak

Everything unveiled

Now hidden

Everything true

Now alternative fact

Our scorched earth writhes in protest and you wallow, drip with and immerse in fear, those terrifying musings of a manufactured Orwellian scam

Everything righted

Now wronged

Everything authentic

Now plasticized

Enslaved to that darkest, smallest recess of your brain that flickers out false phobias, false flags and full false equivalences

Everything human

Now replaced

Everything built

Now squandered

An apparition of the past, the shadow of your former whole selves, now chained to your jailers for fear of, fear of, fear of  everything



The death knell as the death toll rises , in this nightmare slowly awakening and taking its hold on life
A forty plus year Frankenstein creeps through the markets and ravages our land and the pall and stench of decay filters into our pores and becomes us
And we fight
We fight that which we know is inevitable as the bells ring out for all of us to heel in this hell we made
We made
We made
We made in fucking America
And those who escaped to heaven draw pity on those who stayed
We face this monster this evolution of our own extinction and we abandon hope or compromise for there is no one to save us
Not man
Not god
Not devil or Saint
Panicked breath we grasp onto paper thin freedoms and sentiment
that disintegrate in our palm
It’s death and you’re death and he’s death
And we’re done being dragged along
This horror show grows in size and girth eating our faces and pounding our earth
This new look looks odd on us
this death knell
A masterful piece now so obscene
ringing in a living hell
Like a ghost in the political machine
America, you are but a shell
We have a mouth
We have a voice
And now, finally
It’s time to scream


Not a savior. Not a threat but only as effective or defective as your
Top choice
Like your steaks
Overdone or undercooked it’s still
Meat and meat is
And in this order:
To the animal, the planet and
The human race
It was a race
You know how you won
When she stacked the deck against
The one who really won
This game of
Illusion of Democracy in Empire
It set our garbage votes on the
Fire pyre
Ushering in an era of
Obama’s bombs and Constitutional
You prefer your decadent Manhattan Versailles
Over an ordinary house
All white
Set in a historic town rich with
American blight
The coup will come
The pushback severe
Even with fantastical lies
Of Vladimir
The bloated politician saber rattling
For bread and circus
And yet you never really
We see your pay to play earnings
And your vague platitudes and cliches meander
We’ve got our own backs but it’s nice to know we’ve still got
A different place To wander


A lyrical sociopath spewing nationalism

Taking credit for ideology only espoused

Never brought into action

Banking on American pride and stupid media gorged rhetoric

You talked yourself out of every program which would have kept us solvent



Betrayed our constitutional rights and inserted fascism

Your greatest legacy is every “ism” known to man

Your call for responsible citizenship

Is nothing more than a passing torch from smiling dictator to demagogue

Your words drip with sticky sweet, syrupy and gooey

Your greatest legacy

Is a toilet tweeting Baby Huey