Neo-WA Press

I’m loving it - by thecynicalpoet
(2020NN)

Big Mac
Chicken nuggets
Large fries
Chocolate thick shake
Garden salad
Warm apple pie
Cancerous tumours
Deteriorating health
And diabetes.

Chocolate sundae
Rainbow frozen coke
Mc chicken
And cholesterol
And rotting flesh
And rancid vegetables
And the innocent
Faces and cheeks
Of battery animals

Filletofish
Cheeseburger
Thick shakes
Diet Coke
and lard drips
Oozing down
Your Esophageal
Glands like warm
Cheese sauce
Mhmmm yeah
I’m loving it
I’m loving it
And so are you.

(Sythetic fish and chips and the quarry) - By Garry Sanders

- An email to an old love who commited the mass exodus to new earth in 2045.

I remember back to the good old days, where we s**t talked our feelings in
our favorite extinct animal suits, or those glowing summers baking our brown bodies In the overbearing radiation.
Drawing opaque cascading
landscapes with blunt pencils,
sharpening our senses on caffeine
and THC, stimming from flacid humour.

I remember nights of strolling down hay street in our fluro shades and cheap cosmetics, tacky incorporeal stickers, on our stinging green plastic plaid vests. Puffing on our h**p ci******es we transformed words into images and sound into reality.
We ran this city, In our XR 80, from mitchel freeway highs
Armadale road lows, from fremantle quay uppers
To hyde park blues.

We bottled time and nursed our wound,
we sat in reconstituted lawn chairs at kings park drinking Our chateau 2020 we stole, debating whether the glass was half or empty. Knowing neither logic nor truth we fashioned gullable principles based loosley on virtual soap operas, and mainstream E - stars. Trading stories for broken ciggarettes we made slaves of fools.

Now im alone', in a world full of air wasters , resource theives, electric assasins and mushroom cloud anthropologists tormented by the polyverse of our vast distilled technocratic empire. All hail john huges the 3rd uppp the mighty Eagles, and the bell tower renegades.

Yet time stands still no more, as faces blur in crowds of enslaved wills trapped within artifical sensations, create the equation and theyll flock like pigeons, develop the serum and thell kiss your feet maybe even lick between your toes the grit of your filth. Superstar status - God/dom

Gone are those days of fishing at the swan river, now a polluted wasteland of abandoned irresponsibility. All thats left are rubbish heaps and burned trash left guttering the fetid streams.

It is now cold dusk on a cold winters eve as i drive past mourning tribesmen in cashmere jackets and velvet trunks trudging through hazey neoWA streets. Youth overpopulate commercial corners soliciting their wares to unwary pedestrians, law enforcers eyes on every wall.

Suburbs a wretch of antiquidated heteronormality and things havent gotten better since you left this planet to go start life on New Earth.

So today i decided to stop at the local Grub Zone on my way up mundaring hills. I pulled in to buy my sythentic fish and GMO hot chips, and i couldnt help but think of all those times we swam in heavily chlorinated waters, drank from tainted springs and bathed in naked sunbeams.

Now things are even worse. Theres very little clean atmosphere, the only pets left are dogs and cats which we keep inside at all times due to blood markets. Everything else is extinct. I wish you were here with me as i eat my pastey fried slop and ponder beyond neoWAs neon forest and sparkling fields. This quarry is all thats left of my heart, all vital essence ripped leaving a gaping hole in my chest.

My life now a shallow frame held together by cheap ethanol, and over priced to***co, everyone everywhere a hollow shell of their former selves, so immersed screens and codes they forget themselves. At least this sensation of our favorite meal at our old hang spot will cheer me up. Its 2060 now and i have run out of things to do to keep me alive. I have given up. There is nothing left for me.

Signed

Your transmorphic moth

P.S I hope mars has w**d

John Hughes Memorial Centre for Body Enhancement
by - "The Technomancer"
2045 (nn)

Crowd bumps shoulder to shoulder
as faces young and old gather
in a cylindrical garrison block
Militia in steel clad bodysuits
skulls painted on the mesh
of their visors

“Protect at all costs the infant
John hughes the 3rd” echoes
on the neo transistor
as static kisses the air
a silence befalls the bemused
crowd tantalized by such force

unruly citizens push and shove to get
a closer look of the new heir to
the motorized throne of unending
technological advancements in science
incorporated. A voice in the crowd
shouts ‘Hughsey’ another shouts
long live the industrial empire’.

Emerging from a phalanx of defence
a tiny face shines brilliance upon
the witness, as though as star
had just left heaven to touch
the soles of the earth. The people
aww and stare in admonishment.

Batons extend and start lashing
out at bystanders getting to close
suddenly there are gunshots in the
air, a voice screams, death to the
false king as plasma engine
roars into fertile sky.

Translated by 7xXRockXx7