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What is Hive Being, and Why the Name?
You have likely heard talk of a hive mind, where one global mind finds more or less figurative expression in various local minds. Such talk is common enough in nature documentaries, especially ones concerning ants or bees, and in sci-fi programs. Take that notion, at least a loose version of it, and broaden its scope. That will be a decent first step in understanding the title I have chosen both for my Blog and for the first five-volume installment of my magnum opus Made For You and Me, a fragmentary collection of minimalist stanzas from 2016 to 2020.
In alignment with Spinoza (the 17th Century Rationalist to whom I devoted my doctoral studies), I view reality in its totality as a grand hive Being: all entities are but pulsating manifestations of the buckstopping fount of everything, an ultimate being we might call “God” or “Nature” (so long as, out of respect for the capital “G” and the capital “N,” we limit it neither to some anthropomorphic cloud father hurling lightning bolts nor to mere wilderness untouched by human smog). According to the hive-Being view (where reality is one lone superorganism, a monistic—and we might even say unividualist—conception I defend in both my creative and academic capacities), each non-foundational being (each being, that is, whose essence does not involve existence) is an utterly necessitated expression or eruption or exudation of this eternal source—each is, perhaps better put, a mode or manner of being, and so a focal point through which is disclosed, what classical theists sometimes call “being itself” (ipsum esse subsistens): the realness of the real, the being of whatever may be, the sheer activity of being, the very isness of whatever is. This Blog, which duplicates my Substack, throbs as but one among many literary unfurlings of this self-necessitated foundation, this supreme wellspring, of which we—like black holes and broken beliefs, like fractal ferns and flickering flames—are the inevitable stylings.
My Journey
I am an academic who found himself pressured into early retirement by the rising tides of cancel culture. The illiberal scourge of censoring, silencing, and shaming—although always with us throughout our evolution—reached a local peak around 2021. That was the turbulent year my creative pursuits, which the old left once encouraged as a healthy outlet for the stresses of a childhood steeped in poverty and illiteracy, drew the ire of the new safe-space left. A small cadre of self-proclaimed victims and their allies, several of whom continue to berate me years later under pseudonyms as see through as their sexual infatuation, sought to erase me and my heterodoxy. They found support from a wannabe-woke dean, covered in the grand inquisitor robes of our decadent modernity (full-body tattoos) and just itching to signal his commitment to protecting “vulnerable populations” from triggering material (even if just, as it was in my case, off-duty poems “unbecoming for someone calling himself a teacher”). Although I eventually won my due-process case with the help of The Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression, I slunk away from a college that turned its back on protecting freedom of expression and from an institution increasingly intolerant of intellectual diversity.
The wrecking ball to my too-comfy office in the windowless ivory tower came with a silver lining. From the ashes of my professional aspirations rose a phoenix of increased freedom to fulfill the literary calling I have pursued for decades. Reputation concerns never stopped me, even within academia’s sterile halls of conformity. Indeed, my unapologetic defiance, which has long baffled friends and family, no doubt chummed even safe waters—almost as if I were asking for it all along—until the cancel shiver grew too frenzied to hold back its blind thrashings. But now, now I piston the most forbidden territories of human thought with no longer even a twinge of conscience. The newfound freedom means extra time to hone my craft. When not assisting special-needs communities (a day job far more rewarding than freeway-flyer drudgeries), I pursue my literary mission with Dionysian fervor.
Call for Co-Conspirators
This space, my digital sanctuary, showcases the fruits of my mission. Think of my posts, even those linking to my publications, as works in progress. I want your input, unflinching brutality included. Each post begins with an invitation to action: “Let’s workshop this [draft about x, y, z].” Your contributions, whether through public comments or my contact page, help hammer scraps of ore into polished blades fit for magazine publication.
Your input is valuable, even if you are neither a writer nor a reader of literature—twin disciplines dying by the cyber nanosecond. Sometimes—even if at the risk of uttering banalities—an outsider’s fresh vantage can pierce the veils of convention to reveal what insiders miss. It often takes an outsider to make us even think to question our ingrained presuppositions and attitudes. I stand by the hygienic value of contagion. That is one reason I advocate so strongly for intellectual diversity and freedom of expression. And that is also one reason I was so harrowed by the anti-diversity swell of cancel culture in academia (an institution that should be the utmost caretaker of such values)—harrowed especially insofar as that swell masqueraded under the gaslighting guise of “diversity”).
You will witness the breathing evolution of my writings over time. To track these changes, I label each revision by round: “ROUND 2,” ROUND 3,” and so forth. Each piece undergoes continuous refinement based on your feedback and my own revisitations. Sometimes changes will mar the work. That is the risk of creative tinkering as a finite creature. I hope you will alert me to missteps. After many semesters of university writing workshops, one rule has impressed itself upon me: when someone senses a flaw, something almost always needs to change—even if, yes, the proposed solution misses the mark (which often it does). From a quick look into the archives, accessible here, you can see how much I have benefited from your feedback so far.
My Hope
Sharing drafts can be daunting. But showing you the ravaged and unperfumed real deal unfiltered by makeup (stuttering starts and falsities, awkward line breaks and clumsy word choices, grammatical errors and misspellings)—that not only makes my work more relatable, but helps me refine things through your input. I hope the unfiltered look at the raw process of fumbling, rather than just the polished product, also helps other writers develop their craft. Imperfect works often instruct more than perfect ones: whereas the perfect ones tend to have a grace by which they slip inside us without activating our scrutiny, the imperfect ones—especially the near perfect ones—show us glaringly what not to do.
People laugh at me, seeing—in my tilting at the windmills of literary excellence—a Don Quixote clunking around in Arthurian armor in a post-knight era. I am not naïve. I am well aware of the diminishing ability to read, let alone well: slowly and deeply, with gratitude. I am also aware that my style, which often nests subpoints within larger points, never waters down virtuosity for the sake of mass appeal. I watch readers stumble over my sentences, unable to unlock even just the music of the envelope let alone the semantic meat within, which—given my tendency to flashlight through the darker facets of human nature (the addicts, the miscreants, the abusers among us)—only adds an additional alienating layer of difficulty). Beholding these depressive scenes of even supportive family members getting bucked off my syntactic bronco makes me feel like a dinosaur who should get a hint and, if not succumb to the brain rot of skibidi-toilet speak, just hang himself already. Even though the decline in linguistic background and grammatical voltage makes my compositions seem quixotic in a world binging Netflix and TikTok, I persist—raging against the dying of the light—by some internal compulsion to celebrate the richness of language and thought.
My hope is that, despite social media’s unparalleled power to farm our attention, people never forget the unique power of writing. Beyond unveiling hypocrisy, teasing out complex implications, and detailing the commonalities between even the most alien phenomena, writing offers something we need today—trapped in agoraphobic cyber bubbles only thickened by the Lyme dangers of forests and the COVID dangers of cities—perhaps more than ever. Granting us rich access to the first-person perspectives of others (to how things feel to them), writing serves as one of humanity’s best tools for combating loneliness. It allows us to linger, broadly and deeply and at high resolution, within the inner lives of others in a way that other arts can only suggest.
What to Expect
My work spans a broad spectrum: from metaphysical discourses on free will and determinism and the ontology of holes to the ephemera of western culture (whether the childhood impacts of the hypersexual mono-image of black woman as squirting twerkers or Terrence Howard’s sham revolution of mathematics). Some tight and minimal, others free-flowing sprawls; some heady and abstract, others emotional and imagistic—my inkwell musings, which often blend scholarly rigor with a dark humor from both high and low culture, aim to capture the visceral intensity of our personal and social and ultimately existential predicaments.
By no means can I deny that drug abuse, sexual assault, and the tales of the broken and the damned loom large in the tag cloud of my work. My writing will never be a paradise of easy truths and comforting lies. It will challenge you, provoke you, and at times even repulse you. I offer no apologies for the monsters I unleash. They are as much a part of us, at long root scared rodent mammals scurrying in the shadows of dinosaurs, as our noblest aspirations.
But make no mistake. It is not all downer darkness. The archives are my receipts. You will find pieces exploring the pursuit of authenticity in a media-saturated world, the search for meaning in an indifferent cosmos, and the celebration of beauty in both the sublime and the profane. I locate much of my inspiration, in fact, in novelists like Dostoevsky and poets like Ted Kooser—writers unafraid to pursue moral agendas or risk Hallmark sentimentality in an age that often sneers at sincerity.
Be they satirical dissections of modern social dynamics or poignant poems about addiction or academic articles on moral responsibility, my goal is to provoke thought, evoke emotion, and foster meaningful dialogue. Fear has not and will not stop me from challenging humanity’s fundamental taboos (like bestiality and cannibalism) or self-reflecting into the dark chaos of the subconscious, even if that means exposing the Jungian shadows—the inner Goebbels—lurking within us all!
Expect posts each day, no day missed. Donations are welcome, but I impose no paywall: it feels wrong to charge for art, especially given our date with obliteration. Feel free to explore what amounts to, at the time of writing this, close to a thousand pieces of poetry and prose here. That should give you a sense of what awaits.
Join me—specula holstered—on this literary odyssey into the public and private nooks of the hive Being. Let us navigate the labyrinth of creation together, confronting our demons and even slaying our darlings if we must. Let us dance on the razor’s edge between the sublime and the profane in pursuit of an elusive literary perfection never to be confused—as it has been confused in our declining civilization—with the pursuit of popularity or likeability over truth.
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Posts
Beatitude
"Beatitude" explores the intersection of addiction recovery, self-deception, and the allure of spiritual transformation. The poem addresses an individual newly sober, less than "thirty-six hours" into recovery, yet already slipping into familiar delusions of grandeur. The title, "Beatitude," evokes notions of blessedness and spiritual elevation, contrasting sharply with the reality of the subject’s fragile sobriety. The speaker’s tone carries a mix of irony and frustration, challenging the individual's tendency to leap prematurely into self-righteousness or spiritual enlightenment.
The poem critically examines the pitfalls of early recovery, where a sense of newfound clarity can easily morph into a kind of self-congratulatory delusion. The reference to “the path of total self-surrender” suggests that the subject has embraced a recovery philosophy—likely rooted in spiritual or religious language—meant to facilitate humility and acceptance. However, the speaker questions the sincerity or depth of this commitment, highlighting how quickly the individual reverts to "delusion's preachy playbook." This phrase captures the tendency to replace one form of escapism (substance use) with another (self-aggrandizing spirituality), suggesting that the underlying issues remain unaddressed.
The second half of the poem shifts to the internalized, self-flattering thoughts that characterize the subject’s mindset. The notion of being "a saint, albeit one... in utero" illustrates the paradox of this false humility: the individual sees themselves as on a sacred path, yet acknowledges (though perhaps disingenuously) that they are still in the early stages. The metaphor of being "in utero" underscores the naivety and premature nature of such self-perception, pointing to a desire for sanctification without enduring the necessary trials of self-reflection and sustained effort.
"Beatitude" ultimately critiques the tendency to embrace spiritual narratives prematurely in the process of recovery, revealing how these narratives can serve as a new form of denial. The poem exposes the tension between the genuine desire for self-transformation and the ease with which the ego distorts that desire into self-glorification, even as the journey has only just begun.
sobriety, recovery, spirituality, delusion, self-surrender, false humility, addiction, self-deception, early recovery, spiritual transformation, ego, denial, self-reflection, beatitude, sanctity.
Tree City Tattoo
"Tree City Tattoo" navigates themes of memory, grief, and male camaraderie through the lens of a shared experience in getting a tattoo. The poem depicts the speaker's reflection on a tattoo that, unbeknownst to him at the time, becomes a significant marker of both a personal and communal history. It explores the way objects and experiences, such as tattoos, serve as anchors for memories, not only of events themselves but also of the people involved—especially those lost to death or addiction. The poem intertwines the ritual of tattooing with notions of mortality, particularly when referencing the "pre-fentanyl days," alluding to the opioid crisis and its tragic consequences for the speaker's cousins.
The poem’s tone fluctuates between dark humor and melancholic introspection. The speaker recalls how, during the session, the tension and inadequacy of the tattoo process—symbolized by Dave’s unreliable tattoo gun—reflect the shaky foundation of their relationships. The group dynamic is sketched through the speaker’s uneasy awareness of the bickering and botched tattoo, suggesting that the superficial act of getting inked belies deeper fractures in their connections. The speaker’s paranoia about the tattoo’s quality morphs into a larger sense of insecurity and disbelief, culminating in his “nonchalance” upon confronting the final product in the mirror. His forced reaction—“Shit look dope!”—becomes a gesture not just of self-deception but also of solidarity, as he spares his friends the embarrassment or guilt they may feel over the outcome.
Time, however, brings perspective. The speaker grows able to laugh about the experience in retrospect, recognizing the botched tattoo as an emblem of the imperfections in their lives, their bonds, and their mortality. The reference to "beach seasons later" evokes a passing of time that allows for healing, yet the losses of his cousins Randy and Matt—presumably to addiction, as hinted by the reference to fentanyl—create an enduring undercurrent of sorrow. The final interaction with Dave, now at Randy or Matt’s funeral, encapsulates the poem’s meditation on how the past continues to ripple through the present. The tattoo, initially a casual endeavor, becomes a symbolic relic of lives intertwined by both laughter and tragedy.
Ultimately, "Tree City Tattoo" juxtaposes the ritual of a tattoo—permanent in ink but fading over time—with the fragility of life and relationships. The tattoo’s significance grows as the people involved in its creation are lost to time, and the speaker’s final reflection on whether the tattoo still exists mirrors the uncertainty of memory, survival, and the legacies we leave behind.
tattoo, memory, mortality, opioid crisis, fentanyl, male camaraderie, loss, grief, bickering, ritual, permanence, imperfection, reflection, funeral, shared experience, legacies, nostalgia.
Forever 27
"Forever 27" reflects on the destructive mythos of rock stardom, often characterized by the tragic deaths of young musicians at the age of 27, such as Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Kurt Cobain, and Amy Winehouse. The poem delves into themes of youthful immortality, the consequences of impulsive decisions, and the inescapable void that awaits. The title itself is a direct allusion to the "27 Club," the cultural phenomenon surrounding the numerous rock stars who died at that fateful age, suggesting that the subject of the poem is one who lives recklessly, without the foresight to realize the consequences of his actions.
The opening lines present a figure who lacks the ability to "focus empathic eyes to the future," indicating a psychological and emotional blindness. The use of the word "empathic" suggests that this is not just a failure to look ahead for personal reasons but an inability to connect with the future consequences of his actions on others. The poem positions this inability as tragic, especially when set against the backdrop of "rock’n’roll," a genre long associated with rebellion, excess, and the rejection of conventional responsibilities.
The poem highlights the physical symbol of this recklessness in the form of a "neck tat of a girl's name, 'Q'Riah,'" which carries career-destroying implications. The neck tattoo serves as a concrete manifestation of impulsiveness and disregard for the consequences. In the music industry, particularly in rock’n’roll, such a tattoo may be seen as an act of defiance or branding, yet here it is framed as "career-cremating," linking it to a self-destructive act that burns bridges rather than builds them.
The poem then shifts its gaze to the future—or more precisely, the absence of one. The speaker seems to struggle to "focus empathic eyes" not just on his career but on the "void" racing toward him. This void represents both the physical inevitability of death and the psychic burden of regrets that accumulate over a life lived too fast. The "void" is depicted as a force that has "long proven psychic iodine to regret radiation." This metaphor suggests that, just as iodine protects against radiation exposure, the looming void dulls the burn of regret. In this way, the poem illustrates the paradoxical relationship between living with abandon and the underlying awareness of mortality: the character is simultaneously drawn to and numbed by his impending demise, as if the thrill of danger acts as a shield against confronting his mistakes.
Ultimately, the poem engages with the trope of the doomed artist, whose refusal to acknowledge the long-term ramifications of his actions leads him down a path of inevitable self-destruction. The imagery of tattoos, rock’n’roll, and the "racing" void conjure a world where time is compressed and actions are irreversible. In this world, youthful mistakes become permanent scars, both literally and metaphorically, with the figure in the poem embodying the perpetual present of someone who will never grow old—who remains, in the cultural imagination, "forever 27."
The tension between fleeting fame and eternal regret, between the rush of reckless choices and the inescapable approach of the void, makes "Forever 27" a meditation on the dangers of living solely for the moment without regard for the future. It serves as a cautionary tale of a life arrested at the peak of its wildness, where the inability to "focus" on anything beyond the now ultimately seals one's fate.
27 Club, rock’n’roll myth, impulsiveness, mortality, regret, neck tattoo, doomed artist, rock stardom, youthful immortality, self-destruction, racing void, psychic numbing, cultural myth, rebellion, career-ending decisions.
Hum of the Horcruxes
"Hum of the Horcruxes" captures the haunting and paradoxical pursuit of immortality and significance through material possessions, invoking the concept of Horcruxes from J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter series as a metaphor. In Rowling’s mythology, a Horcrux is a dark object into which a fragment of a person’s soul is stored, often accompanied by a loss of humanity. The poem transforms this idea into a symbol of the modern human's desperate attempt to find meaning through the accumulation of curated objects—faceted gems and mint coins—that, although valuable, ultimately fail to fill the void of loneliness and insignificance.
The poem begins by describing "whisper-thin solitude" against the backdrop of someone laying out their precious possessions, an act that is presented as both meticulous and hollow. The choice of words—"curated hoards" and "just because"—emphasizes the empty ritualism behind this behavior. It is as if the person is attempting to create meaning or permanence in an impermanent world, much like how Voldemort created Horcruxes to escape death. Yet the poem immediately undercuts this with a tone of existential resignation. The treasures are spread out on an "unrumpled bed" and an "unsmudged desk," symbols of an unblemished but lifeless existence. The possessions are perfectly preserved, yet they lack the messiness of real life, symbolizing detachment and sterility rather than vitality.
The second stanza asks the reader how such an "emptiness"—born out of this sterile attempt at mattering—could fail to shriek at unbearable decibels. Here, the poem suggests that the person’s act of laying out material objects is an attempt to stage significance or a "lunge at mattering," yet this very act betrays the futility of such efforts. The "noose-dangling decibels" allude to a kind of metaphorical self-destruction, where the realization of the inherent meaninglessness of material accumulation becomes suffocating and unbearable. The imagery of a noose introduces an ominous suggestion of despair, where the pursuit of material significance leads not to satisfaction but to a deeper confrontation with one's insignificance.
By framing this confrontation within the concept of Horcruxes, the poem engages with themes of soul fragmentation and the moral cost of attempting to preserve oneself through external means. The act of spreading out these objects, like creating Horcruxes, is a desperate attempt to anchor oneself in the world, to resist death, decay, and the passage of time. Yet this attempt only amplifies the hum of emptiness, the sense that no matter how much one accumulates or preserves, true significance cannot be bought or curated. This tension between materialism and existential despair is intensified by the poem's juxtaposition of silence (the "whisper-thin solitude") with the loud, violent noise implied by the "noose-dangling decibels."
In exploring these themes, the poem touches on broader existential questions about the nature of meaning, the pursuit of legacy, and the human desire to transcend mortality. The allusion to Horcruxes suggests that the pursuit of permanence through material means comes at a spiritual cost, fragmenting one's sense of self rather than fulfilling it. The poem thus offers a critique of materialism and the modern obsession with possession as a substitute for genuine connection and purpose, implying that such efforts are ultimately self-destructive.
Horcruxes, materialism, existential crisis, immortality, J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter, curated possessions, modern loneliness, futility of legacy, soul fragmentation, existential despair, noose symbolism, mortality, self-destruction, accumulation and meaning.
Mesozoic Playback Settings
"Mesozoic Playback Settings" is a poem that uses the metaphor of viewing pornography at triple speed to explore the remnants of our primordial, rodent-like instincts. The poem opens with the seemingly mundane yet frenetic image of "mouse squeaks on mute" and the fast-forwarding of pornographic content, establishing an unexpected juxtaposition between modern behavior and ancient evolutionary history. This deliberate use of pornographic imagery—especially at accelerated speed—serves to amplify the frenetic, animalistic nature of desire, subtly suggesting that beneath our sophisticated technological behaviors lie traces of primal instincts dating back millions of years.
The poem invokes the "rodent-whiskered roots" and "quivering-shrew core," calling attention to the distant evolutionary past, particularly the Mesozoic era when early mammals scurried for survival in a world dominated by dinosaurs. The phrase "mucosal catfish glinting out from Lethe’s inky mud" brilliantly connects this primal past to the present, invoking the Greek mythological concept of Lethe, the river of forgetfulness, to symbolize how these deep, evolutionary memories are often concealed but can resurface in unexpected ways. The catfish, a creature known for bottom-feeding and lurking in the depths, represents how these primitive urges emerge from the unconscious "mud" of our collective psyche when provoked by certain stimuli, like the fast-paced consumption of sexual imagery.
By focusing on this buried, "quivering-shrew core," the poem situates contemporary behaviors within the broader context of our evolutionary past, reminding us that modern actions—often perceived as distinctly human—are deeply intertwined with the survival mechanisms of ancient mammalian ancestors. These creatures, who once darted across the surface during the reign of dinosaurs, were hyper-aware of their vulnerability, living in constant fear of predators. The mention of these instincts highlights the persistent influence of fear, desire, and survival that continues to pulse beneath the veneer of modern civilization. Even in seemingly detached, impersonal moments of media consumption, the poem suggests that we are still tethered to our evolutionary heritage.
The poem's layered use of metaphors—"mouse squeaks," "rodent-whiskered roots," and "quivering-shrew core"—invites a deeper reflection on the connection between instinct and technology. While technology allows us to mute or fast-forward aspects of our experience, our primal nature is not so easily subdued. The poem contends that even as we engage with contemporary media, there is a cyclical replay of ancient behaviors, memories, and instincts, suggesting that modernity is not so much a break from the past as a new setting for the same ancient narratives to play out.
Ultimately, "Mesozoic Playback Settings" offers a profound meditation on the continuity of life across millennia. It blurs the line between the distant past and the present moment, reminding us that beneath the layers of culture, technology, and rational thought, our primitive selves continue to linger, subtly shaping our behaviors, desires, and fears. By invoking the imagery of the Mesozoic era and combining it with modern media practices, the poem highlights how our evolutionary roots remain ever-present, even in the most unexpected contexts.
evolutionary psychology, Mesozoic era, pornography, primal instincts, rodent roots, ancient instincts, Lethe, unconscious memory, modern media, human behavior, evolutionary continuity, survival mechanisms, technology and instinct, Greek mythology, ancient mammals, human nature.
Realistic Silver Linings
The poem "Realistic Silver Linings" offers a provocative exploration of the cultural and psychological impact of exposure to trans individuals in public spaces, particularly focusing on how societal perceptions of the penis—and male sexuality more broadly—are shaped by Western taboos and anxieties. The poem begins by reframing the contentious issue of trans women using female restrooms as an "upshot," suggesting a potential positive outcome from an otherwise controversial situation. It positions the exposure of young girls to transgender individuals as a possible catalyst for demystifying the penis, an organ that, in Western culture, has long carried an outsized symbolic weight tied to power, dominance, and fear.
The poem critiques the "Western magic" surrounding the penis, a phrase loaded with irony, as it calls attention to the way male sexuality has been overinflated to the point of near-absurdity in modern discourse. In lines such as “its piddly pulses on your subway leg” and “just its zipper wink,” the poem addresses the subtle but pervasive presence of male genitalia in public spaces and the often exaggerated reactions to these fleeting encounters. These moments, seemingly insignificant, are described as having the power to "spell lifelong therapy"—an indictment of how Western culture has pathologized these interactions and turned them into sources of trauma.
In contrast to this psychological baggage, the poem invokes the image of tribespeople who, by comparison, possess a more grounded and less neurotic relationship with sexuality. Their indifference to the penis is likened to their well-adjusted gut flora—symbolizing a natural, untroubled integration of bodily functions and experiences. The implication is that exposure to transgender individuals in restrooms might help to neutralize the intense emotions and psychological distress often associated with the penis in the Western mind. The poem gestures toward the possibility of a cultural shift where the penis is no longer a totem of danger or trauma but something that can be laughed off as insignificant.
The poem suggests that this exposure may lead to a broader social liberation from the "Western magic" of the penis—specifically, the power it holds over women's psyches in certain cultures. The idea of being "freed" to laugh at it as the tribespeople do points to a desired future where the penis loses its threatening, almost mythic status and becomes just another part of the human body. This "realistic silver lining" reflects the speaker's hope that, through increased exposure and desensitization, we might achieve a healthier, less fraught relationship with male genitalia and, by extension, with male sexuality itself.
However, the poem also raises questions about whether this desired cultural shift is achievable or desirable. While the poem presents a hopeful vision of cultural desensitization, it also hints at the deep-seated complexities of this issue. The penis in Western culture has been so thoroughly imbued with layers of meaning—danger, power, vulnerability, and taboo—that achieving the kind of casual indifference the speaker imagines may be far more difficult than it seems. In this way, the poem straddles the line between satire and genuine aspiration, offering a complex meditation on gender, sexuality, and the power of cultural symbols.
Western magic, trans individuals, public restrooms, male sexuality, cultural taboos, gender dynamics, psychological trauma, societal perceptions, desensitization, transgender issues, sexual symbolism, tribal societies, cultural critique, gender relations, body politics.
Cast the First Stone
The poem "Cast the First Stone" is a pointed critique of moral hypocrisy and the ease with which individuals claim a higher ground while conveniently forgetting their own past compliance with societal pressures. Addressed to those who claim they would resist contemporary moral trends, the poem holds a mirror to those same individuals, reminding them that they were once themselves eager to fit in, as symbolized by their desire to wear Jordans. The rhetorical move here is to question the reader's ability to truly stand apart from peer pressure, particularly when it comes to controversial and rapidly shifting social norms—namely, the use of new pronouns and the policing of language in educational settings.
The poem juxtaposes two periods of social conformity: the speaker recalls a time when wearing Jordans was a near-necessity for acceptance in school, subtly underlining how even minor acts of conformity can be driven by immense social pressures. This detail is not arbitrary; it calls into question the reader’s potential to stand up to much more intense social dynamics, like those faced by today’s youth navigating issues of gender identity. The poem draws attention to a new kind of conformity that exists under the guise of personal empowerment but is deeply embedded in a trend-driven culture where the stakes are much higher—this time involving the life-altering decisions of transitioning and gender identity politics. The question the poem raises is not just about whether one would resist these trends today, but whether anyone really has the strength to stand against the tide when conformity is woven into the fabric of adolescence and peer identity.
The reference to making teachers "dance to your newfangled pronouns" evokes a specific contemporary anxiety about the power dynamics in classrooms, where students wield unprecedented influence over language and behavior. The poem highlights the extent to which these power dynamics can feel coercive to those in authority, often involving threats of being labeled transphobic or politically incorrect. But the poem is more than a critique of these students; it is a critique of those who believe they are somehow immune to these dynamics—those who claim they would resist the pressure to conform to pronoun usage but fail to realize how often they themselves conformed to similarly arbitrary social markers, like brand-name shoes.
In drawing this parallel between the past and the present, the poem suggests that no one is truly above the pressures of conformity. The same individuals who so adamantly wore Jordans in their youth would likely have succumbed to the same pressures faced by today's adolescents. The reference to puberty blockers and "glitter scalpels" makes the stakes of this new conformity more visceral: while past acts of conformity might have seemed trivial, today's pressures involve body-altering, life-changing decisions. The poem asks: would these moral critics have resisted the "bully temptation" to make their teachers comply with pronoun usage, or would they have fallen in line, just as they did with fashion trends?
The poem raises important questions about the nature of social influence, power dynamics, and moral conviction. It reminds us that, regardless of the time or issue, peer pressure has a powerful way of compelling compliance. The concluding rhetorical question—whether the reader truly believes they would have resisted—challenges the reader to confront their own history of conformity and question the strength of their convictions in the face of real-world pressure.
The poem "Cast the First Stone" critiques moral hypocrisy by drawing a parallel between past and present forms of social conformity. It challenges those who believe they would resist current trends, such as the use of pronouns in schools, by reminding them of their own compliance with peer pressures in the past, like the compulsion to wear Jordans. Through this comparison, the poem explores the complexities of peer influence and the illusion of moral superiority, ultimately questioning whether anyone can truly stand apart from societal pressures.
Social conformity, peer pressure, moral hypocrisy, pronouns in schools, gender identity, societal trends, adolescence, power dynamics, contemporary issues, personal empowerment, puberty blockers, body autonomy, moral critique, social trends, classroom authority.
Bitch-Ass Nigga
"Bitch-Ass Nigga" confronts the realities of street life, male aggression, and the complexities of urban youth culture through the lens of a specific community dynamic. The poem’s focus on a neighbor’s intervention in a potentially violent confrontation underscores a layered examination of masculinity, respect, and conflict resolution. The term "bitch-ass nigga," while harsh and laden with racial and gendered connotations, sets the tone for an exploration of social expectations around toughness, respect, and the male body as a site of power and vulnerability.
In the scene, young teens swarm in the “bottle-glass street,” an evocative image that conjures a sense of urban decay and danger, with shattered glass symbolizing both the literal and metaphorical fragmentation of lives in the neighborhood. These teens are on the precipice of violence, reflective of a larger societal issue where disenfranchised youths, particularly young Black men, often find themselves engaging in physical confrontations as a means of asserting dominance or simply surviving in their environment. The “quiet neighbor” emerges as a figure who understands both the risks involved in such altercations—“group stomping, / police fire”—and the potential positive outcomes that can arise from channeling male aggression into structured physical combat. This neighbor embodies a sense of old-school masculinity, where physical confrontation, if managed within the bounds of sport, can serve as a path to earning respect and fostering self-confidence.
The quiet neighbor’s decision to step out with boxing gloves and invite the boys into his backyard is an act of courage, perhaps even mentorship. It reflects a belief in the transformative potential of controlled combat, where violence is not merely a destructive force but a tool for growth and development. This approach to conflict resolution, however, is not without its complications. The neighbor is aware of the risks inherent in this environment, where police violence is a constant threat, and yet he steps forward, offering an alternative to the chaotic violence that might otherwise erupt. His insistence on bringing the boys to his backyard suggests a desire to create a space where they can safely engage in combat while still adhering to a code of respect and discipline.
The poem ultimately raises questions about the nature of masculinity in such environments. The use of boxing as a metaphor for controlled violence highlights the duality of male aggression: it can be both a destructive force and a means of building confidence and earning respect. In a world where young men are often expected to perform a hyper-masculine role, the quiet neighbor provides a counter-narrative, one that reframes physical combat as a way to develop rather than destroy. The poem thus serves as a meditation on the ways in which communities, particularly Black communities, navigate the complex dynamics of male identity, violence, and respect in the face of systemic pressures like poverty and police presence.
urban masculinity, youth aggression, conflict resolution through sport, controlled violence, respect in Black communities, boxing as mentorship, street life dynamics, hyper-masculine expectations, community intervention, systemic pressures in urban environments.
Built-In Vetting and Defense
In "Built-In Vetting and Defense," the poem portrays a highly calculated, transactional world of drug dealing, where power is subverted through a twisted form of mutual coercion. The dealer insists that the buyer threaten him, flipping the script and making the buyer responsible for initiating the transaction under duress. This method enables the dealer to claim that any illegal sale was done involuntarily, thus protecting himself from legal consequences. The forced recitation of threats during video chats creates a bizarre ritual, demonstrating how paranoia and survival have redefined trust in this dangerous, illicit space.
The poem deftly captures the tension of these interactions, as the buyer is coerced into delivering a violent ultimatum in order to obtain drugs, framing the transaction as legally ambiguous. The inclusion of a disturbing, sing-song chant, “♪ Mr. ’Tato Head, ♪” adds a layer of dark absurdity, revealing how deeply twisted this environment is, where the power of threat becomes intertwined with grim humor. The ritualized threat adds a performative element to the transaction, blending menace with absurdity, as if to downplay the grim reality with a veneer of forced casualness.
The poem examines themes of manipulation, paranoia, and the moral contortions present in criminal dealings. It explores the psychological toll of existing in a world where coercion is mutual and trust is based on threats of violence. The piece critiques the absurd lengths to which individuals go to protect themselves in the underworld, where every move is calculated for survival, and moral lines are blurred beyond recognition.
mutual coercion, drug dealing dynamics, illegal transactions, plausible deniability, under duress, power inversion, paranoia, criminal manipulation, threat-based exchanges, dark humor, moral ambiguity
The Violinist
“The Violinist” is a layered exploration of the complicated relationship between an artist father and his son, marked by both resentment and unexpected joy. The opening lines, “He had pleaded for abortion / (in fear a child would smother / his art),” immediately introduce us to a father who views parenthood as a threat to his creative pursuits. This perspective frames the father’s identity, suggesting that his primary concern lies in preserving his autonomy and the freedom to create, unburdened by familial obligations. In choosing art over potential fatherhood, the father reveals his belief in the inherent conflict between creative freedom and parental responsibility.
Yet, the reality of fatherhood quickly defies these initial fears. His son, the very child he sought to avoid, becomes an unexpected source of both irritation and fulfillment. The father’s dread of being “smothered” by parental duties is inverted, as his son becomes the only other toenails he could “nibble.” This peculiar and intimate image suggests an oddly affectionate but predatory dynamic, where the father is simultaneously drawn to and threatened by the presence of his son. The act of “nibbling” evokes a primal connection, underscoring the interdependence that forms despite the father’s earlier reservations.
The poem skillfully captures the father’s ambivalence as the son grows, gradually surpassing him in various realms: “being bested by a kid / in ever-new areas (math, height, chess, / even music).” This passage reveals the father’s competitive nature, his sense of insecurity deepened by his son’s achievements. What was once a fear of being tied down becomes a more personal fear of inadequacy, as the son not only shares his interests (music) but surpasses him in them. The father’s identity, built upon his artistic ambitions, is challenged by the very person he once feared would hinder his growth.
Yet, the poem culminates in a complex emotional turn: “ominous joy / crescendoed with time.” This line evokes the musical metaphor of a crescendo, suggesting that the father’s emotions swell in intensity over time. The joy he experiences is “ominous,” tinged with darkness and perhaps an underlying anxiety about being outshone by his son. However, the fact that this joy exists at all points to the father’s realization that fatherhood, despite its challenges, has enriched his life. The competitive tension between father and son ultimately produces a deep, albeit fraught, bond, where pride and fear coexist. The poem masterfully portrays the complicated emotional landscape of fatherhood, capturing the father’s oscillation between fear of being overshadowed and pride in his son’s growth.
father-son competition, ambivalence in fatherhood, artistic ambition and family, surpassing parents, emotional complexity of parenthood, fear of inadequacy in fathers, familial intimacy and resentment, generational rivalry, creative tension in family relationships, interdependence of father and son.
Rot
In "Rot," M. A. Istvan Jr. captures the haunting passage of time through the juxtaposition of a serene backyard fire and the poignant memory of a father-son project. The poem opens with a "hush" broken only by the "staccato pops" of flames, setting a contemplative tone. The warmth of the fire evokes a sense of comfort and nostalgia, as hands are warmed over the wooden planks. These planks, once part of a cherished tree-house built with his father, now serve as a metaphor for the fleeting nature of time and the inevitable decay of cherished memories. The tree-house nails, "too damn many" in number, symbolize the effort and love invested in moments that now seem like "only a heartbeat ago."
Istvan's use of imagery and sensory details in this poem brings to life the bittersweet realization of how quickly time passes. The fire represents both destruction and warmth, a duality reflecting the complex emotions tied to memories of the past. The nails, which once held together a symbol of childhood and bonding, now lie in a pile, hinting at the inevitable disintegration of even the most solid structures. This poignant reflection on time and memory resonates deeply, illustrating Istvan's ability to evoke profound emotions through concise, vivid language.
The poem's strength lies in its brevity and the evocative power of its imagery. Istvan invites readers to contemplate their own experiences of time's passage and the bittersweet nature of nostalgia. The scene of warmth contrasted with the underlying theme of decay creates a powerful emotional impact, highlighting the transient nature of human connections and the moments we hold dear.
M. A. Istvan Jr., Rot, poem, time passage, memory, nostalgia, backyard fire, tree-house, father-son bond, imagery, sensory details, fleeting moments, literary reflection, decay, cherished memories.
The Tooth
The Tooth presents a raw, visceral portrayal of a strained father-son relationship, shaped by addiction, violence, and a quest for validation. The poem is divided into three sections, each depicting different moments of emotional manipulation, cruel humor, and desperation, where the son—both victim and instigator—comes to terms with his father’s self-destructive behavior while grappling with his own emerging sense of identity and power.
The first section introduces the father’s addictions, presenting them as a backdrop to the son’s childhood. The father’s "oral fixation" manifests in chain-smoking and excessive drinking, both of which the son observes with a mixture of frustration and fascination. The vivid imagery of the father’s substance abuse—Newport 100s lit in succession, cases of Natural Ice consumed daily—sets the tone for the chaotic and dysfunctional dynamic between father and son. The son’s response is initially one of rebellion, expressed through pranks that, although humorous on the surface, hint at a deeper desire for control and revenge against a father who has repeatedly broken promises to quit drinking. The pranks evolve from lighthearted actions like throwing bologna on his sleeping father to darker, more demeaning acts, such as drawing a clown face on him while unconscious. This escalation mirrors the son’s increasing frustration with his father’s inability to change, as well as his own growing thirst for power over the man who once held authority in his life.
The second section delves deeper into the psychological complexity of their relationship. The son uses emotional manipulation to toy with his father’s guilt, constructing false narratives of abuse in order to provoke a reaction. The son’s performance, laden with after-school-special-style dialogue, showcases the depth of his cunning as he exploits his father’s drunken state. The father, despite his inebriation, is drawn in by the son’s fabricated stories, falling into a state of protective rage, sobbing and threatening to kill the imaginary abuser. This scene is both tragic and darkly comedic, as the father’s genuine concern is met with the son’s insincere playacting. The son’s need to provoke an emotional response from his father reveals a deeper longing for attention and validation, even if it means manipulating the man who is already emotionally fragile. The son’s fabricated accusations of "love games" reflect the blurred boundaries between affection, manipulation, and violence that characterize their relationship.
In the final section, the poem reaches its climax with the father’s self-inflicted tooth extraction. The scene is charged with a sense of masochistic pride as the father, goaded by his son’s taunts, proves his love and paternity by pulling out his own molar with a pair of linesman pliers. The son’s manipulation in this moment is both calculated and cruel, as he questions his father’s identity and challenges him to prove his worth. The father’s response—“If I love ya!”—is both a declaration of affection and a submission to the son’s power, as he mutilates himself to affirm his paternal role. The violent act of tooth-pulling becomes a grotesque metaphor for the father’s desperation to hold onto his place in his son’s life, even at the cost of physical pain and humiliation. The linoleum splattered with blood serves as a stark visual representation of the emotional carnage that has been building throughout the poem.
Throughout The Tooth, the son’s relationship with his father is marked by a complex interplay of love, resentment, and power. The son’s pranks and manipulations are not merely acts of rebellion but expressions of a deeper desire for control in a world where the father’s addictions and failures have rendered him powerless. The father, in turn, is portrayed as a tragic figure, both complicit in his own downfall and desperate for his son’s approval, even if it means self-destruction. The poem captures the cyclical nature of their dysfunction, where love is intertwined with cruelty, and validation is sought through pain. The repeated phrase, "If I love ya," underscores the father’s desperate need to prove his worth through extreme actions, while the son’s calculated manipulation reveals his growing understanding of the power dynamics at play.
Ultimately, The Tooth offers a stark commentary on the complexities of familial relationships, where love is often expressed through violence, manipulation, and self-sacrifice. The poem’s visceral imagery and dark humor amplify the emotional intensity of the father-son dynamic, leaving the reader to grapple with the unsettling nature of their bond.
father-son relationship, addiction, manipulation, self-destruction, power dynamics, oral fixation, familial dysfunction, emotional manipulation, tooth-pulling, dark humor, violence, paternal love, visceral imagery.
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Don’t let anyone tell you that real life is lacking in poetic interest. This is exactly what the poet is for: he has the mind and the imagination to find something of interest in everyday things. Real life supplies the motifs, the points that need to be said—the actual heart of the matter; but it is the poet’s job to fashion it all into a beautiful, animated whole. You are familiar with Fürnstein, the so-called “nature poet”? He has written a poem about growing hops, and you couldn’t imagine anything nicer. I have now asked him to write some poems celebrating the work of skilled artisans, in particular weavers, and I am quite sure he will succeed; he has lived among such people from an early age, he knows the subject inside out, and will be in full command of his material. That is the advantage of small works: you need only choose subjects that you know and have at your command. With a longer poetic work, however, this is not possible. There is no way around it: all the different threads that tie the whole thing together, and are woven into the design, have to be shown in accurate detail. Young people only have a one-sided view of things, whereas a longer work requires a multiplicity of viewpoints—and that’s where they come unstuck.—Goethe (Conversations with Eckermann)
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