June 22 by The Running Son
the ʗ̉yber-pacıfıc υƞderg̉roυƞd
By data streams you have seen
and received me,
packets sent tight-beamed
have glossed across your vision
via my mission of new age phrasing,
and of me cross-interlacing
your need for slow spacial relations
with a minimum tastefully displayed
liquid crystal screenings of captured faces.
Your image creates shock waves
in cyberspace. It could displace
a million transmissions, trigger state
sponsored algorithms to macro-filter, tag
and erase from all systems
any reference or water-mark of your face,
your core data becoming the dominion
of progress–a subject of the space age DNA
mapping of essential beauty
down to its deep threaded meta-coding
and very first packet placing.
by Jim Aldrich (:
.namaste. -• ö.tH(ink)Mÿstiç •- .namaste.