Machete of Time

They’re teaching us to dig graves,
But not how to lay in them—

The first skyscrapers bulge and sway—
We take the penthouse by freight
And fire marshals get paid.
Fuck VIP, we’re high, we’re backstage.
Bringing in the new millennium proper—
a decade of drugs—
Each one of these years we take forever
Straight into our veins forever…

Cocaine! Cocaine! Cocaine!
(We’re begging you)
Give us more time for selfloathing.
Faster! Faster! Faster!
We can’t fit enough chemicals on.
Throw wind into our hair,
Our faces, our veins…
It passes through hollow filaments
Flagella and not much else.

Twitching in the Petri dish, the drink, the city
Like every night we’re praying:
Where’s the next party at:
Dancing and drunk, couch lounging and stoned—
Restless and not much else because
Tonight is not like last night is not like last night…

Searchlights lead here! Spotlights lead here!
Epidemic: suicide by jumping
But the beat keeps thumping.

Chandeliers, cocktails, gala girls, after parties
In bank vaults underground
With the steaming metros and teaming masses,
Steaming skin and the finest hashes.
We dive into smoke-filled pools
And coma dreams you don’t dare remember.

We’re already underwater,
In the city,
Swimming from deep experience to deep experience
While photographs laugh
And die without moving.

Ya, all the facebooks in the world
Couldn’t document the horror—
The parties and the poses—
Take the freight elevator down
So we stay underground,
Fuck slowly,
And drink 40s in the als
While they talk and spit on human animals.

CO2 Emissions waft gently into the sky
Like Spanish galleons in some virgin Caribbean.
Machete of time,
Tracing the paths I’ve cleared away,
In an infinite labyrinth of dead ends.
And it’s lonely too—
Reaching for truths I never felt before.


– Michaël Veremans

The City The Party The Photo

This entry was posted in Photos, Poems. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Machete of Time

  1. jaguarpress says:

    rodallec said…

    I commented on the hip hop rhythmics first time around, i like it. Like the colors, working on something involving color myself. The first two lines could go or lose the accusatory touch by rephrasing, it directs too much, show don’t tell, right. I like this poem more this 2nd time around, which is a good sign, there more to get from it. I see the peeling, as i call it, of the mind, the intellect, understanding and becoming restless from it, the boredom, the city city city, and it spirals. That’s the artist, and the subject is mankind, always. The picture is rich and works well with the poem. I will come back to this again, right now I have to leave.
    9/11/09 7:41 PM
    Anonymous said…

    you pull me into your lap
    behind my head went your hand.
    you are the idea man,
    i’m not yours, but you can.
    9/11/09 9:55 PM
    Jaguar Press, Ltd. said…

    I’ll take a look at those first few lines. I thought of them as a sort of promemium, but you’re right, the mood is pretty different.

    One of my inspirations is the idea of a carousel, i tried to keep it rhythmic, but you can see it turning into a confessional.

    The colors are extracted directly from a German sunset.
    9/11/09 10:18 PM
    jenny said…

    I think most sunsets contain those colors
    9/12/09 3:33 PM
    Jaguar Press, Ltd. said…

    Just German ones, as far as i can tell…
    9/12/09 4:39 PM
    Anonymous said…

    9/13/09 11:57 AM
    Michael Veremans said…

    9/13/09 1:26 PM
    Anonymous said…

    9/21/09 10:42 AM

  2. pi says:

    I was immediately drawn to the use of color, which looks more like sunrise when you scroll down due to the intensity of light emanating from the screen growing as opposed to waning, but perhaps that’s just due to my faulty lense. For the length of it, I feel that I’m left with many questions: What is it about–beyond parties and drugs, and the slicing of time? Where is the fire (regarding fire marshal)? What is confessional here? This is definitely poe, practically lyric, but not quite… through. Please, get to these truths you don’t know and take a machete to confusion. I need to know about this fire living underwater, the suicide, more reagard to the Petri dish, please. And best of luck to you.

    I’m impressed.

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