Heath Brougher

Robotic Flu

Caliginous monstrosity clogation
of cognition                               unhumbled robotic caligony
fills the air                                 beats upon the eardrums
                its metallic taste of wobbling noise

we endorphinelessly morph by the day
as we further depend on these mechanical monsters
to run amuck in our lives                            and willingly allow it
                                               so much so
                these robotic monsters are infiltrating and controlling
as they slowly tempt us with their bright screams of screens
of contagious connectivity                                  evolution spun metallic
soon to spring                               and spoil the soil [soul]
as Mankind sticks its                               perfectly uncut human perceptions
heads and hands directly into the mouths of these monstrous computer screens
with waning viscera we swim in a pixilated pool
of pathetic predetermined angles of standpoints.

Of Raggedcloth

You swung out on citylights
clutching an apple and bob had nothing to say

you eke your speak to me of strangleholding and absinthe
and propophol and halcyon days [and nights] of yore
these are your never awake barbiturates
of the post-postmodern medicinal industrial complex

burmier bermuda skinsear sauté-like
the tattered fabric of this post-postmodern society as a whole
is made of raggedcloth

lucky number never

the grocer’s harmony
the grocer’s pharmacy
has come to a quiet end

in the piddle of the drum and silent raze drops
like a guillotine so sudden-
so unexpected-
that when the head is lopped off
and falls with a thud only a head could make
a certain tremble runs across the nerves
sparking a sudden simultaneous fear and excitement.

Swift Evolution

Columbus sailed the oceanic oasises
while                   beneath him
                gills                 open      shut      open      shut
as endless Evolution continued
fins had already turned to feet
                               through time                lots
and lots of time
                in order for the proper muscle conjuncture
to mutate                                              as it was
                battered ashore
repetition repetitioning
yet each wave is as original as a snowflake

the agenda of waves smashing
forth upon the beach                the miniscule pieces of sand
                the million Universes contained within every single grain
of sand
is what?
                               is what we are all doing here.

Prisoners of Patterns

the grotesque cyclical
Nature nurture
has made you all sick
in the head
my spiral screeches against
your symmetry of lies
circulatory falsehoods
which you’ve sold yourself into
sewn yourself into
so immensely stitched together
that it is tremendously difficult
               to tear apart
                              to tear away from
                                                            to tear off
                                                                           and into the Truth.

Mutation City

I am quick to start
but slow to finish a line
finishing lines


fishlying [mostlydead] on the ocean floor—

the radioactive Tuna of California
former denizens of Fukushima water-
                ing holes
growing ever bigger, heavier,
like black holes a
teaspoonth of which would fall right through the Earth
so dense it is———————————— [or so I’m told]

finish lime and sourpuss mouth
looks as if you are going to internally combust
and suck up into yourself—
spontaneous nonexistence,
the apricots of the disappearing apparentness apparatus.

Heath Brougher attended Temple University. He recently became the new poetry editor of FIve2One Magazine. He has published two little books titled A Drought of Ichor and 2 (Green Panda Press). His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Yellow Chair Review, Of/with, Mobius, *82 Review, Main Street Rag, BlazeVOX, Gold Dust, Mad Swirl, The Jawline Review, Foliate Oak, Clockwise Cat, Diverse Voices Quarterly, Fowl Feathered Review, Third Wednesday, A New Ulster, and elsewhere.
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