Abduction On The Abductor Machine by Lori Gomez

Abduction on the Abductor Machine by Lori Gomez

It is said that a picture
Paints a thousand words
But what came first?
The picture or the word?
The image or our concept of it?
Did we see a thing, then name it?
Or did we name a thing, then see it...
In accordance with our need to realize it?
Egyptian hieroglyphics once
etched stories in stony silence.
Their pictures are the word
and the flesh made one
Presiding proudly
on the altar of Time.
Genuflecting to no one.
Could we maybe speak in hieroglyphics?
Or would smoke signals be clearer?
Sometime it seems we communicate in runes...
Our neural cave walls splattered
with Pollock dripping
a Vermeer light cast
in Rodin bronze and
painted with Dali's dreams.
Our skin tattooed in their hennaed shades
Thought traces spiraling their double-helix
within our pores emitting orgasmic gasps
flickering like Christmas lights
as they stream messages
contaminated with viral glee.
Maybe if we speak the pictures,
we splatter them on the walls of immortality
I'd like to upholster them in hope clouds.
Turn fleshy words
into sculptural doves
with mechanical wings
billowy thoughts
that can fly...
and lay them down to bed
so they awaken to a new dawn
Sky writing in steady streams
Keeping all our porch lights blazing
I feel...
We are Kabbala jigsaw puzzles
Breathing and seething with new meaning
Recognizable only to those
attuned to our frequencies
Those sad mad Megahertz of love
we bounce into and off each other
Waves of bits and bytes
Dada data
Raw & primal
Coming down on us
Sometimes raining summer
In soft sweet kisses, all sugar spun
Other times like a fallen powerline
on a country road,
Sizzling in haphazard jolts
Thor bolts shocking us
Til we vibrate like
organic violin string concertos
Except...
to those who
with third eyes blind, deaf and dumb
put up their deflector shields
Still, even they can sense us
Deep in those dark limbic recesses
the part that can still smell the sex
our reptilian brains engaged
and firing against all will
Its Amygdala amorosa
A cure for their
Pineal Anorexia Nervosa
Our grassy thoughts all fresh mown
scented and musky-mating-called
seeping through... permeating any
Kevlar-shrouded apathy
We become teflon bullets
We find a way in
And charge up San Juan Hill
to keep the lanterns of Liberty lit
and let self-expression ring free.
Right now as I type this
I sit on a machine:
An iron beast that Reich
would have rigged up all Tesla coil-like,
with his orgone accumulating layers
of wood, steel and atmospheric zeal
to diminish the modern lament, and
devil taunts of long repressed wants
Its called the Abductor,
and I straddle it
in sublime supplication
Pushing my thighs apart
against a heavy resistance
I try to let Calgon take me away....
But it leaves no ransom note
What kind of abduction is this, eh?
Taut hips fully engage
in some sensuous metabolic exchange
with an undercurrent
of metaphysical currency
Mens sana en corpore sano
Keeping my caged carnality at bay
Baying hound dog that it is
All slavering jawed, desire dripping
even before Pavlov rings my bell
Somehow my leg spreading options
only feel stronger, libido intact
But I'm ready for combat against it
What chakra am I battling with?
What evil am I baiting ?
This titanic surge I suppress
would give Atlas duress
the weight of it would crush
his primordial shoulders
And bring the heavens
crashing down upon you.
Our paradox shrine helpless
living the end of the a dying word
A woman waits impatiently
to repeat these mindless actions
of mine, here on the hamster trail
I traverse on a sunless Sunday.
She is middle-aged
Middle-class
Middle-world
A hyphenated being...
No precious ring takes
its ceremonial seat on her finger
Bilbo Baggins still carries it
for her no doubt,
I sure hope he can get past her gollum
that lies deep in wait
within her echoing Psyche
Cuz she looks in desperate need
of a good fuck with a white picketed fence
Cinderella-slippered fairy-tale ending.
If I were she, I would have asked me
if I were done yet
See?
I'm even too impatient for impatience
To be impatient means you're waiting
for something that is not really worth the wait.
I won't do that, sure as shit
not for propriety's sake
Not even for my own ego
The cup of the covenant that I keep
and intend to drink from some day
Would make even the gallant young
Parsifal flush with lust
The best hunters are the patient ones
And I am a very patient hunter
I'll carpe my diem when it comes,
if it comes...