A Guerrilla Love-fight (Flight) Tactic for Cyber Coolies
Jayan K Cherian
One
//Silicon ghettoes of
San Jose South Asian Niggers
Surfing Against the Sun//
To reach the glass-bull
jutting out to
the aquamarine blue of the sky
between you, sun and earth
without taking your fingers
off the keyboard....
Drag one ‘click’ of light
from the openness
of the meadow where
the green death boils,
dart it by a double click
towards the love
of trees in which
light hides shade
among leaves
and branches.
Count exactly
and pick up
the spangles
of the rainbow
flying down onto
the glass-curtain
of the eye.
Now the meadow a sea
on that green:
the blood of colors...
On the point of a grass-blade
an expanse of a reed-woven pan,
the open glade.
In the bondage of the glade
the river
that flows back
to the sun’s love.
There the vortex
of the glade
where rainbows
drowned
(the hell of agoraphobics).
Fixing the eye
in the horrid blue
of the sky
that may collapse
any moment
Navigate yourself
towards the bull’s eye.
Two
// Digital communes of Austin
Desi Niggers peeing against the wall //
The lone-star split
in the Texan horizon
The wail of a Negro
towed behind
a pick-up truck
that speeds along
chewing a piece
of country music .
James Bird
in the bruised knees
In pieces of flesh
that scattered
James Bird....
In the screams
broken into pieces
James Bird....
Again
the lament
of the sun
Scattered
on the foliage...
Vision
upwards
from the roots
The underbelly of leaves
ants playing
snake and ladder
on the veins
A bird
that got
into the trap
of a song....
The girl
basking in the sun
alone
in the blazing green
of the lawn
The butterfly
pinned up
on the desktop
Philip Morris
burning
between the lips
Light’s
blood
on the wings
Corporate
legends
blazing
on the heart.
How to penetrate
from behind
a flower
achingly roused
by sun’s kisses
on the petals?
Angels
travel
on the love-rays
reaching out to
the heavens.
Until the time when
the lips are shattered
in a kiss-bomb
until the time when
the penis is blown up
in a coitus-landmine
love is imprisoned
in the helpless dependence
of the pollinator.
As you are liberated
into consciousness
in the solitude
of the sunshine
where tiny sounds
have rained out and cleared
She is a virtual reality
written in C++
plug your laptop
into the sun.
Three
//Cyber Coolies from Hell
Screwing Each Other on Wall Street//
The bricks of high-rises
in spotlight Spiderman
(Interactive Multimedia Animation)
vaults
from tower
to tower.
Hooking the right foot
on the invisible specter
of the Twin Tower
hooking the left foot
on the Empire State
stretching stooping
evading the left
moving to the right
plucking the Statue of Liberty
hurls it at Wall Street
and breaks it.
‘Death of History’
knocking against
the scrip
scattered all over.
Fukuyama
is a mushroom
that germinated
in Wall Street....
The scampering cyber coolies
locating
‘the location of culture’
Sree Venkiteshwawra Suprabhatam**
from the contract labor dens
of Edison....
Between
SALGA***
and Bankara-rap
a bridge to DMX
Little Kim pants
on that.
Spreading legs
Between
social text
and
lingua franca
on the bowstring
of Arnovitz
Alan Sokal is aiming a ‘Hawk’
“Transgressing the boundaries...”
Between flight
and paying obeisance
for global coolies
love is a piece of rubber
without any obligation to procreate
you can toss it as a balloon.
//please shut me down when you leave the desk//
------------------------------------------------
*A hymn to Lord Vishnu; most South Indian Brahmins wake up listening to this hymn played over loudspeakers in temples. A reference to the concentration of Cyber Coolies from Andhra, Karnataka and Tamilnadu, in Edison.
**SALGA:South Asian Lesbian & Gay Association.
Copyright © 2002 Jayan K.Cherian