Litchi Regime

A more emotional version of the Wuhan Plague poems which maybe were too much like lectures, perhaps.

Oh citizen,
display your social demerits:

for the freeze police you’re a twisted Atheist
for your forgiveness you’re a Christian
and to learn and return you’re a Buddhist,
but just endure for now like a stoic soldier

Xiuying my love, listen —
It’s a secret but I heard
the children wail like adults,
saw a new born in the gutter

tighten your belt I’ve heard, and
the road to paradise extrudes cement

I know disasters open and close up, but
they’ve cemented Xiong’an’s door shut.

Olympics!
Hooray comrades!

I’ve seen the children sob though
a drunken teacher cries to them
that dynasties rise and fall, and

I’ve seen the Wuhan plague
and I’ve seen a Litchi reign. If
I could bolt with you on horseback
like in a Western
we’d ride at sunset.

I’ve seen the children sob, but
I cry to them like a drunken teacher:
play children, play for today’s laugh

alas, the nuts and bolts of empire
require tyrants to remain.

Behold their great gifts:
their Big Brother infrastructure,
their Marxist bridge to Armageddon

I’ve heard the word:
no one can leave his castle, nor
can she leave her palace
and children play with their
toy soldiers and dolls
with little food left at the door

Xiuying my love, if I were a drunken teacher
I’d tell you about this in a whisper that the
lock-down is courtesy of the Wuhan Lab
the pride of the nation, super science
for the belt and road to the foolish world
and see if you were to look —
see as the Romans and the Mongols did:
They came, they saw, they conquered, they
seized their rightful hegemony

Xiuying, you know
for the Olympics
our doors were sealed.

Many Millions were dead.
Of course —
That’s how it’s done

I’ve seen the Wuhan plague
and I’ve seen a Litchi reign

Nuts to all, and
Xiuying, let us perish like
terra cotta warriors unearthed
and glad to see the sunset

Влад Монстрович Путник (Vlad the monster Putnik)

Влад Путнік знову їде на коні (Чернетка 2)

Влад Путнік їздить на коні з оголеними грудьми
і він чемпіон з штовхання ядра, який позує для журналів

Відоме метання гарматного ядра 22,84 метра,
Російський диверсант пан Влад Монстрович Путник,
суперсталінський жеребець, що блукає до Білорусі
готовий подати сигнал, і

“milquetoasts” знаходяться позаду 8-м’ячої як
Влад Путник грає в американську гру “pool”
штовхати більярдну кулю по всьому світу

Для Росії завжди
слава і кров, і
пам’ять стерта для
український голод

справді,
у 1932 році
хлопчик у Ставищах
сказав, що бачив

опухло тіло, а він
постраждав від
вмираючі мандрівники сморід, дивлячись, як вони копають
під безплідними садами
для їжі

Голодомор
на славу Росії
голодували скромні 3,9 млн
для колективу, але п. Путник

він хоче лише штовхати ядро
в Білорусі як вправу, тільки хоче
перевиховати українську інтелігенцію про
Російська кіберзброя з Star Trek і
народна казка про кібер «Borg».
“опір даремний”

Правдива брехня
—————
Vlad Putnik rides a horse again (Draft 2)

Vlad Putnik rides a horse with bare chests
and he’s a shot put champion who poses for magazines

Known throwing a cannonball 22.84 meters,
Russian saboteur Mr. Vlad Monstrovich Putnik,
a super-Stalin stallion wandering to Belarus
ready to signal, and

“milquetoasts” are behind the 8-ball as
Vlad Putnik plays the American game “pool”
push a billiard ball around the world

For Russia always
glory and blood, and
memory erased for
Ukrainian famine

indeed,
in 1932
a boy in Stavishche
said he saw

swollen body, and he
suffered from
dying travelers stink while watching them dig
under barren gardens
for food

The Holodomor
to the glory of Russia
starved a modest 3.9 million
for the team, but Mr. Putnik

he just wants to push the core
in Belarus as an exercise, just wants
to re-educate the Ukrainian intelligentsia about
Russian Cyber ​​Weapons with Star Trek and
folk tale about cyber “Borg”.
“resistance in vain”

A true lie

Vlad Putnik the Great (Draft 1)

Vlad Putnik Rides Again

Besides riding bare-chested on horseback
Vlad Putnik is a champion Shot Putter

The wayfaring Russkiy is Supernik, able to
shot put a cannon ball 22.84 meters like
a super Stalin stallion wandering into Belarus
ready to give the wayfarer’s signal, and

the milquetoasts are behind the eightball as
Putnik plays the US pool game
to shot put a billiard ball around the world

For Russia always
glory and gory, and
no one remembers anything
about the Ukrainian famine

1932
a boy saw
in Stavyshche
bodies swollen, and
endured the stench of
wayfarers digging
into barren gardens
for food

The Holodomor
for the glory of Russia
starved a modest 3.9 million
for the collective, but Putnik

only wants to shot put a cannon ball
in Belarus as an exercise, only wants to
re-educate Ukrainian intellectuals about
Russkiy Star Trek cyber weapons, and
govorya cyber Borg saying
“resistance is futile”

Where is Peng Shuai Really? (Draft 4) 彭帅到底在哪里真的?

Peng Shuai Takes the Ball In Her Court (Draft 4)
彭帅到底在哪里真的 ?

Is it not congenital animal vice that
the premier Lion party predator will
tend to grope a tennis antelope in
a frilly short dress, but spin still:

In the melon of the times
there are melon balls
and tennis balls, and

The Ladies of tennis blue
must not grant
the antelope cantaloupe
’cause still the spin brews

Deputy underling Mu Nu says
tennis does not exist anymore.

The Vice Premier says “Tenez!”
(embracing Old French like a kiss)
— take, receive, dear girl, yes
dress gracefully for the Vice
and lift your slip with song, oh

Lambda, mu, nu, do advance
the melancholy letter of the Law
and let slip away the melon collie dogs
who defeat the melancholy of the word

Lambda, Mu, Nu, Xi
she’s played

In war, havoc! The spoils, and
the word tennis is disappeared.

Yes, He and every Vice Premier
know the spirit of Tenez!
where the balls are in his
courtrooms and
words are leashed.

vice will be vice,
party will be party,
boys.

Oh My Cron: Banned from the Palace (Draft 7)

Princess Beast
[Oh My Cron (7)]
    by Alice

In fat assignments
I explain death or not.

Oh hell, because
this muddy muddled mind puddle
is like a dark pudding, I cry out in

my lugubrious night where I
fatten up with empty words, but

I have my vocabulary list to learn
and my last will to write.

A girl in her ugliness
can be a beast, and

I have been condemned
to a plague of loneliness
by an evil milieu

It is an elite rule:
the beautiful witches and warlocks
possess the favors and powers

But from their palaces
in holly woods and
from party districts
come many sycophants
to mandate loneliness
in loco parentis

I am a beast girl
in a shanty castle
without magic powers

I write this letter for Stacey
because I smashed my keyboard:

Why a death chord? Because…

there had been mocking awes
in every voiced pshaw
smirking behind a mask;
I could hear their snide smile
rubbing against the cloth

It’s not just that I’m fat and ugly.
Oh My Cron, I’m beastly

OMC Stacey, I got banned
for the humanized mice comment…
Mu, Nu, Xi
OMC! Burn my Prom Dress
Zoom zone me out.

Yeah, I’m a dissident variant, but
it’s not only just, OMG, ha, my
muumuu dress dance with ukulele
got banned from Me-meTube; it’s
not just an Aloha

Got banned from Spacey Bookie too
and from the Ticks
of skewed life. Failed school.

School is a place of hurt
anyway. Shouldn’t be
anymore children born
like me, fat Alice abysmal.
I am a beast without magic.

Burn my Prom Dress ’cause
I have never danced, though

even I was at THE party, but
they hated me, and I
eyed a pill on the floor,
and saw it on the news
so I knew its deadly ruse
when I saved it.

Give out my other letters.
Tell my Mom it was an accident.
Burn my Prom Dress, but my death
wasn’t an accident, it was Science
and Chemistry by the evil, though
they did me a favor.

Remember two years ago?
Yeah, actually, I liked
math and pi and pie, ’cause
my math and science teachers’ chats
were so cool and hot like STEM trends,
hot trends for girls in space, yeah, and
bio lab rats and stuff like that.

Everyone had always known
I was fat and ugly, but
they lie like science lies. It’s a
lie world. It’s
about dead lab rats and mice
and re-education camps
and slave labor and death.
It is a world of tyrants,
of dark pudding witches
and princely warlocks

Didn’t think I’d fail science, just because
the teachers were afraid to teach or something
and they were under an evil spell.

I would have learned it as my own blend
if I were brilliant and didn’t need a teacher
didn’t need a boyfriend, didn’t need a friend.
I would need a magic wand and a frog Prince

I failed science alone because
I had been fat and ugly and too stupid
to have figured out the truth on my own. Yeah, and
Brandon got myocarditis from a booster.

I’m sorry I told you Brandon
was a good guy. He was shy,
nice to me, didn’t know you’d bleed
when he joined the rapeseed club. Didn’t
know it wasn’t about Botany, and I think
Science is evil now without good seeds.

All those humanized mice and puppies, and
I think I was ‘barking up the wrong tree’.
The RNA has jumped from tree to tree,
and the dogs are lost.

So Science is a political sport not for girls
(or me anyway), renamed fats and oil
in unctuous lies and taunts, and so

Even after another lab leak,
they’re hiding the therapeutics…

My favorite cousins were teased on Spacey Bookie:
labeled obese beasts
and they died without the virus pill.
No therapeutic cry and I miss them.

I could have done a crash diet, but
I swallowed the pill from the floor.

I’m sorry. Give out the other letters.

I’m sorry to leave you behind
to suffer through the Armageddon.
I hope you got the abortion.

All I want is chocolate pudding,
and a masterpiece.

Bureaucracy Knows Best

Occupational Hazards When Sleeping Too Long (Draft 1)

I don’t eat food anymore
because of my rap sheet.

Y’know
sleeping long is
a hazard, and I had
woken up with cravings.

When I
had gone
to the supermarket,
there were new signs:
signs of weirdness

WARNING:
THE ENTRANCE PLATFORM
IS A WEIGHT SCALE.

NOTICE:
FACIAL RECOGNITION
AND HEIGHT MEASUREMENTS
ARE PERFORMED

A guard at the door
scanned my ID

I picked up
a giant bag of potato chips,
a half gallon of ice cream, and
a strawberry short cake.
An alarm bell went off.

Lifting me off the ground
four OSHA guards seized me
and carried me backwards
to a chair where
my arms were
strapped down
palms up.

A nurse jabbed a vein
and took two vials of blood

A computer made announcements:
BODY MASS INDEX UNACCEPTABLE.
VACCINATIONS NOT ON RECORD.

A clerk:
DO YOU HAVE A CAKE LICENSE?
UM. OBVIOUSLY NOT. YES THEN,
I HEREBY DECLARE: YOUR
FOOD AND HEALTHCARE LICENSES
ARE REVOKED. REMOVE HIM.

Before throwing me out of the store,
they jabbed my shoulders with vaccinations.

I was disinclined to go to that store again, so
I found a small store nearby.

I got my food to the check-out counter, and
the clerk said, “You don’t have a food license
so I’m not allowed to sell you any food. Please leave.”

I regret that then I had gone
to a liquor store
where they had cookies under the table.
Undercover police arrested us both.

I had amassed quite the rap sheet, so
I had learned to catch pigeons in the park
and boil them in lake water with a twig-and-leaf fire

But a different Winter
hasn’t been authorized
and the snow covers everything

I don’t eat food anymore.

Sleeping long is
dangerous. I will
leave my hazardous body
to a snow grave, and leave
the chattering squirrels
to give my eulogy.

Oh My Cron and Bamboozle: I Got Banned (Draft 6)

Oh My Cron (6)
    by Alice

A written letter for Stacey
because I smashed my keyboard:

Why a death chord? Because…

there had been mocking awes
in every voiced pshaw
smirking behind a mask;
I could hear their snide smile
rubbing against the cloth

It’s not just that I’m fat and ugly.
Oh My Cron.

OMC Stacey, I got banned
for the humanized mice comment…
Mu, Nu, Xi
OMC! Burn my Prom Dress
Zoom zone me out.

Yeah, I’m a dissident variant, but
it’s not only just, OMG, ha, my
muumuu dress dance with ukulele
got banned from Me-meTube; it’s
not just an Aloha

Got banned from Spacey Bookie too
and from the Ticks
of skewed life. Failed school.

School is a place of hurt
anyway. Shouldn’t be
anymore children born
like me, fat Alice abysmal

Burn my Prom Dress ’cause
I have never danced, though

even I was at THE party, but
they hated me, and I
eyed a pill on the floor,
and saw it on the news
so I knew its deadly ruse
when I saved it.

Give out my other letters.
Tell my Mom it was an accident.
Burn my Prom Dress, but my death
wasn’t an accident, it was Science
and Chemistry by the evil, though
they did me a favor.

Remember two years ago?
Yeah, actually, I liked
math and pi and pie, ’cause
my math and science teachers’ chats
were so cool and hot like STEM trends,
hot trends for girls in space, yeah, and
bio lab rats and stuff like that.

Everyone had always known
I was fat and ugly, but
they lie like science lies. It’s a
lie world. It’s
about dead lab rats and mice
and re-education camps
and slave labor and death

Didn’t think I’d fail science, just because
the teachers were afraid to teach or something

I would have learned it as my own blend
if I were brilliant and didn’t need a teacher
didn’t need a boyfriend, didn’t need a friend

I failed science alone because
I had been fat and ugly and too stupid
to have figured out the truth on my own. Yeah, and
Brandon got myocarditis from a booster.

I’m sorry I told you Brandon
was a good guy. He was shy,
nice to me, didn’t know you’d bleed
when he joined the rapeseed club. Didn’t
know it wasn’t about Botany, and I think
Science is evil now without good seeds.

All those humanized mice and puppies, and
I think I was ‘barking up the wrong tree’.

So Science is a political sport not for girls
(or me anyway), renamed fats and oil
in unctuous lies and taunts, and so

Even after another lab leak,
they’re hiding the therapeutics…

My favorite cousins were teased on Spacey Bookie:
labeled obese beasts
and they died without the virus pill.
No therapeutic cry and I miss them.

I could have done a crash diet, but
I swallowed the pill from the floor.

I’m sorry. Give out the other letters.

I’m sorry to leave you behind
to suffer through the Armageddon.
I hope you got the abortion.

Oh My Cron & Bamboozle: I Got Banned (Draft 1)

Oh My Cron
    by Alice

It’s not just that I’m fat and ugly.
Oh My Cron.

OMC Stacey, I got banned
for the humanized mice comment…
Mu, Nu, Xi
OMC! Burn my Prom Dress
Zoom zone me out.

Yeah, I’m a dissident variant, but
it’s not only just, OMG, ha, my
muumuu dress dance with ukulele
got banned from Me-meTube; it’s
not just an Aloha

Got banned from Spacey Bookie too
and from the Ticks
of life. Failed school.

Went to THE party
found a pill on the floor,
and saw it on the news
so I knew exactly
what it was when I saved it.

Give out my other letters.
Tell my Mom it was an accident.
Burn my Prom Dress, but
it wasn’t an accident.

Remember two years ago?
Yeah, actually, I liked
math and pi and pie, ’cause
my math and science teachers
were so cool and hot like STEM trends
hot trends for girls in space, yeah, and
bio lab rats and stuff.

Everyone knows
I was fat and ugly when I was alive
but they lie like science lies. It’s a
lie world. It’s
about dead lab rats and mice
and re-education camps
and slave labor and death

Didn’t think I’d fail science, ’cause
the teachers would be afraid to teacher or something
or I’m stupid and fat and ugly and all that.
Brandon got myocarditis from a booster.

I’m sorry I told you Brandon
was a good guy. He was shy,
nice to me, didn’t know
he’d join the rapeseed club for you.
Didn’t know it wasn’t about Botany, and
I think Science is evil now without good seeds.

All those humanized mice and puppies, and
I think I was ‘barking up the wrong tree’.

I could have done a crash diet, but
I took the pill from the floor.

I’m sorry. Give out the other letters.

I’m sorry to leave you behind
to suffer through the Armageddon.
I hope you got the abortion.

I Will Not Thank a Sunny Day (2019) [edit 2022]

I Will Not Thank a Sunny Day
(2019) [edit 2022]

Traveling frayed
I’d have thanked a sunny day
if rain had not fallen, and

I’d have praised an ancient sun
if bop rain had not plopped,

a rain dance not done,
Anastasia
between
the omen drops

and then if rain had not brought
what ought to be hallucinations —
a vision of a bird on a porch — then I’d have
praised a sunny empty day, but rain

seemed like siren music, and
I knew I had to take an exit ramp,
had to visit the porch of her ranch.

In praise of rain, and reigning shelter
Anastasia cared for me,
and for a sick bird there
still wet, still breathing, so

I’d have thanked a sunny day
not coming to love
the chirps and songs of you
in the reigning beauty of rain.