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in the absence of expected disaster, we are
left again to what we do not want to be
left again to: each other—each other’s eyes

to Hive being

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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.

Featured Posts

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Gig Economy Tonsils
Michael Anthony Istvan Junior Michael Anthony Istvan Junior

Gig Economy Tonsils

"Gig Economy Tonsils” is a haunting commentary on the unending cycles of labor, addiction, and the dehumanization of the working class within the modern economy. The title itself evokes a tension between the body’s biological needs—like tonsils, part of the immune system—and the disposable nature of labor under late capitalism, where even our organs might feel like they are consumed by the demands of a ‘gig economy.’ This reference to tonsils hints at something once vital but now taken for granted or removed, much like the human spirit eroded by the pressures of endless toil and addiction.

The poem immediately confronts us with a bleak worldview. "No retirement in living sight, their manta ‘shit, ain’t none for eating either’" suggests that for the poem’s subjects—likely fentanyl-addicted laborers—there is no respite, no end in sight, no retirement from their lives of grind. The concept of retirement, typically a hopeful goal at the end of a working life, is inverted here, with the drug addicts rationalizing that there is no retirement from eating, so why should their addiction be any different? The poem cleverly critiques this rationalization, showing how addiction becomes another form of labor, one they can never escape because survival itself demands constant consumption. Just as eating is essential for life, so too does addiction become essential for enduring the drudgery of existence.

Further, the drug use is portrayed as a product of systemic neglect, captured in the line “Xmas, Easter, just hollow markers of a world in withdrawal." These major holidays, usually associated with family, renewal, and celebration, are rendered meaningless, mere markers in a calendar devoid of meaning. The juxtaposition of sacred holidays with the phrase “world in withdrawal” draws attention to the widespread emotional and physical withdrawal from life itself that accompanies addiction and endless work. The poem suggests that these traditional markers of meaning have been hollowed out by a society that prioritizes profit over people, leaving behind a populace that grinds through their lives in a fog of fentanyl and empty celebrations.

The poem also reflects on the nature of survival in a capitalistic society that never allows for rest. The fentanyl-addicted subjects are “grinding now triple shifts to stay falling,” a vivid metaphor that highlights how the endless hustle and gig economy mentality extend even to the world of addiction. These addicts, like gig workers, must constantly hustle just to survive, but rather than upward mobility or stability, their efforts lead only to a slow fall. They orbit life as if satellites, “not sharply enough to crash.” The satellite imagery underscores the sense of detachment and isolation, drifting through life in an endless, futile orbit, never quite crashing but always spiraling downward. This speaks to the nature of addiction and late capitalism alike: an unbreakable cycle that consumes both the body and the spirit, with no final conclusion—only slow decline.

The poem touches on the deep societal failure to address this condition. While drug addicts are dismissed and forgotten by society, this poem insists that their experience is emblematic of a much larger crisis: one where work, addiction, and survival are indistinguishable. The comparison between addiction and the basic need to eat blurs the line between necessity and vice, showing how even our most essential human functions have become entangled with the destructive forces of labor exploitation and capitalist survival mechanisms.

In sum, “Gig Economy Tonsils” exposes the interconnectedness of addiction, labor, and survival in a world where there is no final rest, no redemption from the grind—whether that grind is work or addiction. The poem deftly critiques both the personal rationalization of addiction and the systemic forces that create an endless cycle of consumption, where even drug use becomes another form of labor in a life with no retirement.

addiction in capitalism, gig economy and addiction, labor as survival, endless grind, perpetual addiction cycle, drug use rationalization, survival under capitalism, fentanyl addiction and labor, consumption and capitalism, systemic failure and addiction, satellite imagery in addiction poetry, capitalism and drug dependency.

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Something Concrete
Michael Anthony Istvan Junior Michael Anthony Istvan Junior

Something Concrete

This poem, "Something Concrete," presents a nuanced exploration of vulnerability, regret, and the unanticipated consequences of emotional optimism. The poem starts with a "promising goodnight kiss," evoking a hopeful but fragile moment of connection following a period of emotional drought. The divorce referenced places the speaker in a liminal state, suggesting emotional recovery still in process, and the "first since the divorce" introduces a sense of tentative rebirth in the domain of intimacy. The kiss marks a return to vulnerability, and the mention of friends "worrying" adds an external layer of concern, framing the speaker's emotional leap as potentially reckless. This sets the stage for the speaker's "headlong" dive—an evocative metaphor for plunging into hopeful optimism without fully considering the risks.

The central metaphor of the "shunned pool" takes on a deeper resonance. "His ex’s joy" becomes a haunting specter of past happiness, and the pool itself functions as both a literal and symbolic space—once filled with water and joy, but now drained, emptied of its original life, much like the emotional state of the speaker. The sudden revelation that the pool has been "drained for skateboarding" by his son during the last weekend visit underscores the generational divide and the unintended consequences of miscommunication or neglect. The act of draining the pool, an innocent oversight by the speaker, takes on tragic weight as his hopeful dive is not into something sustaining but rather into a void, mirroring his internal emotional state—one where the wellspring of his ex’s joy no longer exists.

This final image of a dive into an empty pool connects to the larger themes of the poem: a dive into the past, misguided by hope, lands the speaker in a space of unintended pain, and the literal emptiness of the pool speaks to the emotional void left by both the divorce and the separation from his son. The poem illustrates the peril of engaging with past joys, now inaccessible or misinterpreted, and the unintended harm that arises from failing to recognize when circumstances have irreversibly changed.

vulnerability, regret, misplaced optimism, divorce, emotional void, generational divide, past joy, unintended consequences, intimacy, emotional recovery.

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The Purloined Rorschach
Michael Anthony Istvan Junior Michael Anthony Istvan Junior

The Purloined Rorschach

"The Purloined Rorschach" engages with themes of perception, consent, and the haunting effects of representation, drawing on the interplay between visual art and psychological analysis. The title immediately evokes associations with Lacan's psychoanalytic theory as well as Edgar Allan Poe's "The Purloined Letter," suggesting a metaphorical theft or concealment of meaning. By pairing "Rorschach" with "Purloined," the poem hints at the manipulation of perception, recalling the famous psychological inkblot test, which reveals as much about the observer’s mind as it does about the ambiguous shapes themselves.

The poem opens with a failure to articulate—"She failed to pin it down / with words"—a recognition that some experiences or images resist verbalization. This inability to define evokes both the subjectivity of perception and the limitations of language in capturing what is felt but not fully understood. The negatives hanging in the art-class darkroom symbolize the incomplete or inverted view of reality. Negatives, in photography, contain all the information of the image but in reverse, and here they stand as a metaphor for how perceptions, particularly those hidden or obscured, reveal truths that are otherwise muted in their direct counterparts.

The "dangling negatives" are described as having an "eerie aura," which reflects the poem's meditation on the unsettling nature of imagery that captures people unawares—those "silent capture[s] of unwitting faces." The imagery of dripping negatives conjures a sense of both creation and dissolution, emphasizing the transformative process in which reality is manipulated and something darker or more elusive comes into focus. The "verted twins," or the original, positive versions of the images, are said to be "muzzled," implying that the negatives disclose something unspoken or unseen in the originals. In this way, the negatives amplify a hidden feature: "the bald ransack of consent," hinting at the unethical dimensions of capturing images or moments without the subject's permission or awareness.

By combining these motifs, the poem critiques both the art of photography and, more broadly, the way we consume and interpret visual media. The reference to "the silent capture of unwitting faces" calls attention to the power dynamics inherent in representation, where subjects are objectified and deprived of agency. There is an implicit tension between the act of creation and the moral implications of that creation, with the "bald ransack of consent" drawing attention to the ways in which art or media can exploit, appropriate, or violate without overt recognition.

This poem functions as a meditation on the ethics of observation, the nature of art as a form of power, and the darker aspects of how we frame, interpret, and use imagery—especially when the subjects of those images are unaware or unconsenting participants. Its brevity belies a dense engagement with questions of perception, representation, and the moral responsibilities of those who wield the camera, the brush, or the pen.

representation, consent, photography, negatives, perception, power dynamics, art ethics, imagery, visual media, unwitting faces, silent capture.

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Leaves of Three Let Them Be
Michael Anthony Istvan Junior Michael Anthony Istvan Junior

Leaves of Three Let Them Be

The poem "Leaves of Three Let Them Be" meditates on the tension between intuition, learned knowledge, and adaptability in navigating both ordinary and high-stakes situations. The title itself references the common adage warning of poison ivy, symbolizing the necessity of learned caution in the natural world. The phrase also sets the thematic stage for the poem’s exploration of when to trust preconceptions and when to challenge them.

In the first stanza, the metaphor of a blind tasting—commonly used in wine appreciation to strip away biases associated with labels—introduces the idea that we are often better served when freed from the weight of preconceptions. For sommeliers, whose craft is deeply tied to sensory perception, removing biases is necessary to fully understand the essence of what is tasted. The implicit argument is that, in areas of subjective judgment or fine distinctions, this approach enables greater clarity and authenticity. However, the poem pivots sharply in its second stanza, where it shifts the context from leisure or craft to survival, specifically on the "front lines." Here, the stakes are higher, and the dismissing of labels or preconceptions becomes not only impractical but dangerous.

The poem highlights a fundamental human dilemma: balancing the wisdom of experience—"labels and preconceptions"—with the need to remain open to new information. Labels are initially portrayed as "saviors," suggesting that our ability to categorize and interpret the world based on past knowledge is crucial for survival, especially in volatile or unpredictable environments. Yet the poem does not endorse rigid adherence to these preconceptions. The closing lines emphasize flexibility: the ability to "drop them in the face of new evidence." This nuanced argument underscores the poem's central theme—that the most adaptive and intelligent approach to the world involves a balance between relying on past knowledge and being open to change when circumstances demand it.

The poem, though concise, engages deeply with cognitive and philosophical issues, such as epistemology (how we know what we know) and the psychology of decision-making under uncertainty. It suggests that in a world marked by complexity and unpredictability, the survival of both individuals and societies depends not just on the knowledge they have accumulated but on their capacity to revise that knowledge when confronted with new truths. This openness to reconsidering one’s assumptions is framed as essential not only in intellectual pursuits but also in life-and-death situations, making it a universal call for intellectual humility and adaptability.

preconceptions, survival, adaptability, intellectual humility, blind tasting, labels, cognitive flexibility, epistemology, decision-making, new evidence.

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Pulling Rank
Michael Anthony Istvan Junior Michael Anthony Istvan Junior

Pulling Rank

"Pulling Rank" is a pointed critique of how identity is leveraged in contemporary social and political discourse, particularly within the framework of identity politics. The poem’s opening, “She opens her soliloquy with that dissent-snuffing script: 'Speaking as an x person,'” reveals the speaker’s frustration with the pre-emptive use of identity as a conversational weapon. By placing “dissent-snuffing” before “script,” the poem underscores how these opening words are not just a statement of personal identity, but a strategic move designed to shut down debate or criticism. The act of “pulling rank” on the basis of one’s identity highlights a shift from argumentation based on shared principles or logic to one dominated by personal experience, making it difficult for those outside the identity category to engage without being accused of invalidating the speaker's lived experience.

The “flex of ethnic high ground” reflects how this identity-based discourse often involves elevating one’s own cultural or racial background as inherently superior in matters of truth or justice. The metaphor of “sob-story judo” portrays the inversion of traditional power dynamics, where suffering, real or exaggerated, becomes a tool for rhetorical victory. Judo, a martial art focused on using an opponent's strength against them, serves as a fitting metaphor for how personal narratives of hardship can be wielded against any form of criticism or opposition. The “my-truth supremacy” that follows critiques the cultural rise of subjective narratives being given precedence over more objective, universally shared truths. This “supremacy” of personal truth aligns with the contemporary emphasis on the sanctity of lived experiences, even when such experiences are insulated from external validation or critique.

The poem taps into a larger cultural critique of how victimhood, particularly racial or ethnic victimhood, can be weaponized. The phrase “effective in a zeitgeist where, unless your skin skews pale, even fake bruises are brass knuckles” extends this critique, suggesting that in an era where whiteness is associated with privilege, any claim of marginalization by people of color—even falsified or exaggerated claims (“fake bruises”)—carries disproportionate rhetorical weight (“brass knuckles”). This line captures the speaker’s frustration with the asymmetry in cultural conversations about race, identity, and oppression. The suggestion that even “fake bruises” can be weaponized hints at a deeper skepticism about the authenticity of some claims of victimhood within identity politics, questioning whether the current climate enables the performance of victimhood rather than a genuine exchange of ideas.

The overall theme of the poem is a nuanced exploration of how identity, particularly marginalized identities, are wielded in modern discourse. The speaker’s tone, at times sardonic, reveals a frustration with the limitations this type of discourse imposes on genuine dialogue and critical engagement. The poem exposes the tension between recognizing genuine marginalization and the potential for exploitation, wherein identity becomes a currency that stifles rather than fosters meaningful conversation. This critique calls into question the boundaries between empathy and manipulation, raising the issue of whether the current discourse around identity truly seeks justice or merely uses suffering as a rhetorical advantage.

identity politics, victimhood, personal narrative, discourse, rhetorical dominance, ethnic hierarchy, power dynamics, subjective truth, marginalization, cultural critique

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Skirt
Michael Anthony Istvan Junior Michael Anthony Istvan Junior

Skirt

This poem offers a critique of the systemic and societal failure to address the awkward and confusing aspects of puberty. It underscores the silence and avoidance surrounding these critical developmental moments, pointing to the lack of guidance and support for young people navigating their changing bodies. The metaphor of being “bound by a clock now ticking” illustrates the relentless passage of time as both an internal and external pressure—where the inevitable arrival of puberty forces conversations that many adults, particularly those in institutional roles, attempt to evade. The figure of “Dr. Script Checklist” functions as a representation of institutional figures such as doctors, teachers, or even parents, who, instead of offering meaningful guidance, rely on standardized, superficial interactions that fail to address the emotional and psychological depth of what adolescence entails.

The poem’s vivid imagery, such as the “eyebags of evasion” and the “rank room of hairy changes,” speaks to the physical and emotional toll that avoidance takes on both the guides (the institutional or adult figures) and the preteens themselves. The description of the “eyebags” as a symbol of exhaustion suggests a cumulative fatigue—likely the result of years of evading honest discussions about puberty, sexuality, and the complex emotional landscapes that accompany these changes. The “rank room” symbolizes the uncomfortable and often unspoken realities of the adolescent body, where physical changes become the site of embarrassment and shame rather than natural development.

Moreover, the absence of a “knee-to-knee sit-down” conveys a deep failure in communication, one that should be intimate and compassionate but is instead replaced by institutional coldness or personal avoidance. The poem draws attention to the systemic neglect of emotional education, where myths of shame surrounding puberty are not addressed directly. The phrase “inoculating the preteen” cleverly uses medical language to highlight the idea that just as vaccines protect the body from disease, open and honest conversations can protect the mind from the toxic myths and distortions about puberty and sexuality. However, the poem laments that such intellectual and emotional “vaccination” does not take place. Instead, the myths surrounding puberty are “too ubiquitous to call ‘distorted,’” pointing to the overwhelming pervasiveness of shame and misunderstanding.

The poem also critiques the societal failure to recognize the importance of guiding young people through puberty, which is often relegated to a distant, uncomfortable task to be avoided rather than embraced. This systemic negligence results in preteens navigating the tumultuous waters of puberty alone, left to grapple with confusing and complex feelings without the support they deserve. Through its subtle yet pointed critique, the poem captures the intersection of institutional avoidance, personal evasion, and the vulnerable moments of adolescence that are left untended.

This poem critiques the societal and medical neglect of puberty and the failure to guide young individuals through these vulnerable changes. Using medical language and powerful imagery, it exposes the pervasive myths of shame surrounding adolescence and highlights the systemic avoidance of difficult but necessary conversations.

puberty, societal avoidance, systemic neglect, adolescence, medical language, institutional failure, shame, myths, emotional guidance, intellectual vaccination, development, Dr. Script Checklist, adolescence transition, preteen challenges, body changes, emotional toll, personal evasion.

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Pillow Fort Password
Michael Anthony Istvan Junior Michael Anthony Istvan Junior

Pillow Fort Password

"Pillow Fort Password" examines the horrifying reality of childhood molestation, a subject approached through unsettling imagery and a juxtaposition of innocence and corruption. The poem opens with "wide-eyed curiosity unfazed," suggesting the child's initial innocence, but this is quickly undermined by a darker narrative. The reference to Elsa’s "Let It Go," a song typically associated with childhood joy, contrasts sharply with the description that follows—"cherub hands" turning into a "gargoyle grip." The transformation from an angelic to monstrous image hints at the violation of innocence, with the child becoming an unwitting participant in something grotesque.

The line "pump that veiny rigidity with an obscene autonomy" is a disturbing and explicit reference to a child being involved in an act of molestation, underscoring the obscene and coercive nature of the situation. The phrase "too vigorous, too disinviting of oversight" points to the lack of adult intervention or awareness, a damning critique of societal failure to protect children from such abuse. The absence of "oversight" speaks to the hidden, secretive nature of molestation, where acts of violation occur beyond the gaze of those responsible for the child's safety. The use of the word "demonic" in the final line encapsulates the evil inherent in the situation, framing the molestation as not just a moral failing but a violation of the child's very humanity.

The pillow fort, typically a symbol of childhood innocence and imagination, becomes a setting of betrayal. It symbolizes a supposed place of safety turned into a site of trauma, furthering the sense of innocence corrupted. The use of sexual imagery combined with the context of childhood play creates a disturbing tension, reflecting the grotesque inversion of something pure into something deeply harmful. The poem is a stark portrayal of the hidden, horrific reality of child molestation and the failure of those who should be safeguarding the vulnerable.

"Pillow Fort Password" addresses the troubling intersection of childhood innocence and burgeoning sexual awareness, using stark and provocative imagery to critique societal discomfort with discussing bodily autonomy and sexual curiosity in young people. The poem sets up a tension between the external appearance of innocence, symbolized by the “wide-eyed curiosity” of the child unfazed by something as innocuous as Elsa’s “Let It Go,” and the darker, more complex undercurrent of premature sexual behavior. The "gargoyle grip" that is "hellbent on velocity" portrays an intense, almost otherworldly force behind the child’s actions, raising questions about the role of natural curiosity versus the taboo nature of such behaviors in society’s view.

By invoking a children's figure like Elsa, the poem establishes an environment of childhood innocence that contrasts with the more disturbing image of the child’s autonomous, unregulated exploration of their body. The saliva-evoking laughter transitions into an act that society may view as inappropriate or ‘demonic,’ highlighting the cognitive dissonance adults experience when witnessing children express forms of sexuality, however innocent the intention may be. This tension between innocence and obscenity underscores a larger societal reluctance to confront the reality of childhood sexual exploration, preferring to demonize or repress rather than guide.

The use of phrases like “obscene autonomy” and “too disinviting of oversight” reflects on the failure of adult intervention in such scenarios, whether due to ignorance, fear, or discomfort. The poem suggests that the child’s actions, though natural, become coded as demonic or inappropriate due to the inability or unwillingness of caregivers to engage with them constructively. It critiques the societal impulse to impose moral judgments on behavior that falls outside of traditional expectations of childhood purity, exposing a failure to reconcile the realities of bodily autonomy with normative ideas of innocence.

The poem can be read as a commentary on the complexity of child development, where boundaries between innocence and emerging sexuality are often blurred, and societal taboos prevent meaningful guidance or understanding. It calls attention to how these taboos, far from protecting children, contribute to a culture of avoidance and silence, leaving them to navigate their curiosities in isolation. The child’s “veiny rigidity” represents not just a physical reality, but the rigidity of societal structures around sexuality that fail to offer the fluid, adaptive responses children might need in such formative moments.

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Wishful Cortical Core
Michael Anthony Istvan Junior Michael Anthony Istvan Junior

Wishful Cortical Core

The poem "Wishful Cortical Core" explores the human tendency to seek mystical explanations for shared mental experiences, despite their grounding in biology and media influences. By referencing "lysergic visions," the poem invokes psychedelic imagery and the influence of substances like LSD, suggesting how altered states of consciousness often lead individuals to embrace fantastical interpretations of reality. The phrase "media-coached like flying-saucer UFOs" highlights how popular culture and mass media shape these visions, subtly directing people toward specific cultural icons or experiences, such as UFO sightings, which became widespread only after media popularized them. The reference to Janis Joplin and paisley patterns alludes to the 1960s counterculture, where drugs and music intertwined to fuel a collective yet chemically influenced search for meaning.

The poem then pivots from this media-driven imagery to emphasize the biological similarity between human brains, describing them as "star-stuff riffs on a neurochemical theme." Here, the poet reminds us that much of what we experience, including mystical visions, can be traced back to the brain’s common structure and chemical processes. The shared nature of these experiences, rather than pointing to supernatural or "woo-woo" realms like astral planes, is rooted in the neurochemistry all humans share. The poet asks why people tend to leap toward metaphysical or supernatural explanations when such commonality is easily accounted for by our shared biology.

In essence, the poem critiques the human inclination to romanticize or mystify shared experiences that can be scientifically explained. It challenges the notion that collective psychedelic or spiritual experiences imply access to otherworldly planes, suggesting instead that these experiences are products of our biological makeup and cultural conditioning. The poem provokes readers to reflect on why we often prefer fantastical explanations over grounded scientific ones, even when the latter are sufficient to explain the phenomena.

psychedelic experiences, shared consciousness, media influence, brain chemistry, biological commonality, supernatural explanations, mystical interpretations, neurochemistry, cultural conditioning, altered states

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Simple Shapes Turned Intergalactic Switchboards
Michael Anthony Istvan Junior Michael Anthony Istvan Junior

Simple Shapes Turned Intergalactic Switchboards

The poem "Simple Shapes Turned Intergalactic Switchboards" critiques humanity’s compulsion to find significance in simple geometric shapes by linking them to extraterrestrial theories. The “duh triangle” in the poem symbolizes the rudimentary triangle, a form we instinctively associate with simplicity and stability in the natural and built world. It evokes the human tendency to elevate such basic shapes into grand designs, exemplified by the piling of stones into the monumental pyramids of Giza. However, the poem turns this focus on the modern obsession with fringe theories, as represented by the excessive consumption of television content that interprets these ancient structures not as human achievements but as the result of alien intervention. The scattering of pyramids globally becomes a convenient narrative for conspiracy theories, which exploit the human desire to transcend cosmic insignificance.

The poem contrasts the historical human drive to create (represented by the ancient pyramids) with the contemporary drive to mythologize, which seeks meaning beyond the earthly. It reflects on how humanity’s intellectual curiosity, once grounded in physical creation and scientific observation, has shifted into a yearning for fantastical explanations. The reference to “too much TV” underscores how media plays a significant role in distorting our view of history and the cosmos, distracting us from the real and tangible achievements of ancient civilizations in favor of speculative, often baseless, narratives of alien intervention. The global fascination with alien communication grids as explanations for these ancient wonders demonstrates humanity’s ongoing struggle to confront its existential triviality without the need for a transcendent "other."

Ultimately, the poem serves as a critique of how modern culture, rather than celebrating the tangible accomplishments of human history, frequently gravitates toward escapism through speculative conspiracies. By contrasting the real and the imagined, the poem invites readers to consider how we construct meaning, not from factual achievement, but from the desire to transcend the ordinary and embrace the fantastic, however improbable.

conspiracy theories, pyramids, alien intervention, geometry, ancient civilizations, escapism, human achievement, media critique, cosmic insignificance, historical creation

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If It Were Not So Organically Human
Michael Anthony Istvan Junior Michael Anthony Istvan Junior

If It Were Not So Organically Human

"If It Were Not So Organically Human" critiques the modern tendency to embrace absurd conspiracy theories while ignoring very real and consequential global issues. The poem juxtaposes two worlds of thought: the "frothing" over fabricated narratives—such as "pizzagate," "chemtrails," and "reptilian flat Earth" conspiracies—against the actual, undeniable realities of state violence and corporate malfeasance. The conspiracies mentioned, which have captured the imaginations of certain groups, represent a form of escapism, a diversion from addressing pressing, tangible issues like drone strikes on hospitals and the unchecked power of corporations that monopolize seed patents while poisoning the environment with sugar and pesticides.

The poet cleverly suggests that such distraction might seem almost orchestrated, as if the focus on fantastical plots is intentionally designed to keep people from questioning and acting upon the real, oppressive forces shaping the world. Yet, the title—"If It Were Not So Organically Human"—indicates that this diversion is not part of a calculated conspiracy, but rather a fundamental human flaw. The irony is that, instead of grappling with the harsh truths of state and corporate corruption, individuals latch onto farcical ideas, driven by a psychological need for simpler, more digestible explanations for their anxieties.

In this way, the poem critiques not only the proliferation of conspiracy theories but also the failure of collective awareness. By choosing to focus on fictitious global conspiracies, society allows itself to overlook or tolerate the real machinations of power that shape its fate. The poem’s structure, moving from the imaginary to the real, creates a stark contrast between the bizarre yet captivating fantasies and the cold, impersonal violence of governmental and corporate entities. It calls for a realignment of focus—away from the outlandish and toward the urgent and true.

conspiracy theories, escapism, state violence, corporate control, environmental destruction, psychological diversion, pizzagate, chemtrails, reptilian, human nature, societal critique.

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Emphasis on the "Homo"
Michael Anthony Istvan Junior Michael Anthony Istvan Junior

Emphasis on the "Homo"

"Emphasis on the 'Homo'" grapples with the complexities and ambiguities of human sexuality, particularly the discomfort and latent curiosities surrounding male anal pleasure and its evolutionary underpinnings. The poem opens with a visceral image of "rectal gelatin after sex," a vivid and graphic depiction that immediately centers the reader's attention on the physical aftermath of intimate encounters. The term "mucus jelly sharted onto wall and floor" not only shocks with its crude imagery but also serves to highlight the often unspoken or taboo aspects of sexual experiences that deviate from heteronormative expectations.

The second stanza's mention of "postnut piss" and the caution to "guard the o-ring with tissue before bearing down" provides a raw and candid glimpse into the mundane yet specific details of male bodily functions following sexual release. This depiction challenges the sanitized narratives of sex, especially in contexts that involve anal penetration or related activities, often dismissed or considered shameful in many cultures. By focusing on these moments, the poem disrupts conventional discourse, pushing the reader to confront their own preconceptions about sexuality, hygiene, and the body.

The concluding lines introduce a provocative inquiry into evolutionary behavior: "so that has nothing / to do with any history of simians / taking mating males from behind?" Here, the poet draws a speculative connection between human sexual practices and potential behaviors observed in our evolutionary relatives, the primates ("simians"). The question suggests a possible continuity or evolutionary echo in human sexual behaviors that might be derived from non-reproductive, dominance-establishing acts observed in the animal kingdom, especially among certain primate species. By doing so, the poem invites a contemplation of whether aspects of human sexuality that are often stigmatized or marginalized could have roots in broader evolutionary and biological frameworks.

"Emphasis on the 'Homo'" thus serves as a complex exploration of human sexuality's undercurrents, merging graphic realism with speculative evolutionary psychology. It challenges readers to reconsider the boundaries of what is deemed natural or acceptable in sexual expression, opening a dialogue about the biological, social, and psychological dimensions of human desire.

Overall, this piece is about the visceral, almost primal connection between human sexual experiences and our evolutionary past, focusing on the raw imagery and the provocative inquiry it raises. "Emphasis on the 'Homo'" thrusts us into a stark, unfiltered portrayal of post-coital reality: the "rectal gelatin after sex" and "mucus jelly sharted onto wall and floor" evoke a physicality that is both raw and unapologetically human. The language used here captures the messy aftermath of intimacy, bringing to light the body's functions that are often hidden or sanitized in discourse. The reference to "postnut piss" and the careful guarding of the "o-ring with tissue" suggest a learned behavior, an almost ritualistic response to the body's natural expulsion processes post-intercourse. This brings forth a striking question—one that challenges our understanding of human sexuality and its roots: does this deeply corporeal experience have "nothing to do with any history of simians taking mating males from behind?" The poem pushes us to consider the biological and perhaps evolutionary connections between human sexual behaviors and those observed in our primate relatives. By invoking "simians" and their mating practices, the piece suggests a continuity or a shared lineage of sexual expression that spans back to our earliest ancestors. The poem juxtaposes contemporary sexual realities with primal instincts, blurring the line between civilized norms and animalistic drives, ultimately questioning the extent to which our behaviors are influenced by our evolutionary heritage.

An exploration of human sexuality and evolutionary psychology, "Emphasis on the 'Homo'" confronts societal taboos surrounding male anal pleasure and challenges notions of what constitutes natural sexual behavior.

human sexuality, male anal pleasure, evolutionary psychology, taboo, human behavior, body functions, primate behavior, societal norms, natural behavior, sexual stigma, biological evolution.

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Sandcastle Basement
Michael Anthony Istvan Junior Michael Anthony Istvan Junior

Sandcastle Basement

"Sandcastle Basement" delves into the transient nature of human endeavors, particularly the creative and artistic pursuits that people often undertake in an attempt to find meaning or permanence. The poem opens with an evocative image of a "smokescreen of our artistic fury," suggesting that creative efforts often act as a diversion or a facade that obscures deeper existential fears. This "fury" reaches its peak in moments of ecstatic immersion, akin to the intense focus required during a "tennis rally nudging our limits." Here, the rally metaphor implies both the relentless back-and-forth of creative effort and the continual pushing of boundaries in search of some elusive fulfillment.

The poem’s pivot, however, comes with the introduction of a "heart murmur," which represents a subtle yet persistent awareness of life's impermanence—a reminder that no amount of creation or artistic expression can ultimately shield us from "sublivion." This invented term appears to combine "sublime" and "oblivion," hinting at a paradox where human attempts at transcendence (the sublime) are inevitably swallowed by the void (oblivion). This notion captures the futility embedded in the human condition: the recognition that all efforts, regardless of their beauty or intensity, are destined to disintegrate over time.

The final lines of the poem, "that all shrines (to our egos or otherwise) crumble in the entropic hourglass," reinforce the theme of decay and the unstoppable march of entropy. The "shrines" symbolize the structures—both literal and metaphorical—that humans erect to commemorate themselves or their achievements. Yet, the imagery of the "entropic hourglass" suggests that these monuments, much like sandcastles, are inherently fragile and subject to the ravages of time. The poem, therefore, serves as a meditation on the fleeting nature of existence and the human desire to find stability and meaning in a universe governed by chaos and decay.

"Sandcastle Basement" ultimately reflects a deep-seated skepticism about the capacity of art—or any human endeavor—to provide lasting solace against the fundamental uncertainties of existence. It invites readers to confront the uncomfortable truth that, despite our greatest efforts, everything we create is merely a temporary defense against the inevitable erosion of time.

Let's workshop this poem about the existential futility of artistic creation, blending metaphysical musings with vivid imagery. "Sandcastle Basement" opens with a compelling metaphor: our "artistic fury" serves as a "smokescreen," suggesting both the intensity and the potential illusion of creative endeavors. This fury is "thickest when ecstatic," likened to the tension and rhythm of a "tennis rally," a game where players push each other to their limits, much like how we might push ourselves creatively. Yet, behind this passionate pursuit lies a stark realization—a "heart murmur" of doubt—that no creation, no matter how profound or beautiful, can ultimately "anchor us against sublivion." The term "sublivion" either means a tweak on oblivion (capturing the idea that, although we are snuffed out, the energy goes one and has been before) or might be a clever combo of "sublime" with "oblivion," encapsulating the duality of the human experience: our creations may reach sublime heights, but they are always shadowed by the inevitability of decay. The poem concludes with a poignant reflection that all "shrines"—whether to "our egos or otherwise"—are destined to "crumble in the entropic hourglass." This final image not only underscores the temporality of our efforts but also evokes the inexorable march of time that reduces even the grandest achievements to dust. Through its interplay of vigorous action and quiet introspection, the poem poignantly captures the paradox of human creativity—our drive to leave a mark in a universe indifferent to permanence.

A meditation on the impermanence of artistic and human endeavors, "Sandcastle Basement" explores the futility of seeking stability in a universe governed by entropy and decay.

impermanence, artistic endeavor, existential futility, entropy, human condition, creative expression, decay, transience, sublime, oblivion, meaning, existential uncertainty.

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Jesus Piece
Michael Anthony Istvan Junior Michael Anthony Istvan Junior

Jesus Piece

"Jesus Piece" uses stark and provocative imagery to critique the hypermasculine bravado and performative aggression prevalent in certain segments of rap music. The poem begins with the boastful assertion, "I never brag, nigga," a line that immediately sets a confrontational tone. This opening statement is paradoxical, as the very act of declaring one’s refusal to brag constitutes a form of boasting in itself. This irony is deepened by the comparison to a judge's final judgment, evoking a sense of irreversible authority and power. The reference to a judge "whose own toddler had been / reamed and creamed through" is deliberately jarring, juxtaposing the veneer of authority with a deeply personal, traumatic image that challenges the reader's comfort and expectations. This imagery suggests a moral contradiction, possibly reflecting the internal conflicts within figures who publicly project strength and dominance while privately grappling with vulnerability and loss.

The poem’s structure mirrors the dissonance between public persona and private reality, transitioning from this intimate, almost confessional opening to a bombastic celebration of material wealth and status. The mention of a "megahit" emphasizes the cultural and commercial success achieved through such displays of bravado, while the comparison to Mussolini underscores the extremity and potentially fascistic overtones of such declarations. The use of "bombast unmatched" conveys the over-the-top nature of the lyrics, suggesting that the performative aggression and ostentation are not only part of the persona but are amplified to a near-parodic extent. The subsequent line, "ops / stay hatin on a nigga’s platinum!" brings the focus to the antagonistic relationships that often fuel these performances, with "ops" (short for opposition or enemies) representing those who challenge or resent the speaker’s success.

The juxtaposition of violent imagery and consumerist pride encapsulates the contradictory nature of this hypermasculine culture—one that celebrates both survival against odds and the conspicuous consumption that marks success in this milieu. The "platinum" here symbolizes more than wealth; it is a marker of social status, artistic achievement, and defiance against detractors. The poem critiques how this materialistic and combative stance becomes a defining characteristic, overshadowing more nuanced or vulnerable expressions of identity. It implicitly questions the cost of such performative aggression, hinting at the underlying insecurities and traumas that might drive someone to adopt such a façade.

In "Jesus Piece," the title itself serves as a multifaceted symbol. On one hand, it references a piece of jewelry commonly associated with the hip-hop community, symbolizing faith, success, and cultural identity. On the other hand, it invokes the image of Jesus Christ, contrasting the themes of sacrifice, humility, and suffering with the self-aggrandizement and performative masculinity of the rap persona. This duality highlights the tensions within contemporary expressions of identity, where spiritual symbols are repurposed for secular status and power, raising questions about authenticity, faith, and the commodification of cultural icons in modern society.

hypermasculinity, rap culture, performative aggression, irony, materialism, social status, cultural critique, identity, consumerism, juxtaposition, provocative imagery, hip-hop symbolism, commodification of icons, authenticity in modern society.

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Expat Painter in Prague
Michael Anthony Istvan Junior Michael Anthony Istvan Junior

Expat Painter in Prague

"Expat Painter in Prague" delves into themes of sexual violation and artistic obsession, using the figure of a painter as a metaphor for control, exploitation, and detachment. The poem begins with a chilling statement: "He took her without consent," indicating an act of sexual violence or coercion. The phrase "all giggles below his balcony" introduces a contrast between the lightheartedness or naivety of the victim and the sinister actions of the perpetrator. The juxtaposition of this carefree image with the violent act above underscores the predator-prey dynamic, where the woman is oblivious to the danger.

The "café girls" sitting in the "iron seat" evoke an atmosphere of everyday life in a European city like Prague, but the casualness of the setting contrasts sharply with the violation occurring. The painter’s "oil strokes," described as "reviving native unclinicality," point to an artistic style that becomes increasingly untamed and uncontrolled, much like his predatory impulses. The mention of "feral" suggests that his artistic endeavors are no longer about capturing beauty or truth but are driven by base, primal desires that overwhelm his ability to objectively represent his subjects.

The poem further suggests that his growing inability to "siphon details from new sitters" reflects his emotional detachment or inability to see the humanity of those he paints, reducing them to mere objects. Even the presence of a "neon fob of mace"—a symbol of modern self-defense against violence—offers little protection, as it is reduced to a decorative "flamingo" against the stark, unyielding backdrop of "weathered cobble." This emphasizes the futility of resistance in the face of someone who wields control both physically and artistically. The poem speaks to themes of power, control, and the exploitation of the vulnerable, using the painter as a symbol for how art can be complicit in these dynamics of violation and objectification.

Keywords: sexual violence, artistic obsession, power dynamics, exploitation, emotional detachment, predator-prey metaphor, vulnerability, objectification, violation, European city setting.

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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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