Panavision Circumcision
A Poem
Panavision Circumcision
When artificial eye expands, the flesh contracts,
The vision clockworks supersede the sketcher’s touch,
Subliminal prisms make hands refract,
That bureaucratic fingers can fondle the crank
On the radio controls of our genetic crutch;
Beware their sterile hands, which lusting to extract
Precious seed from lovers’ fertile embrace,
Desire to produce humanity’s next face.
The lenses clearly define what apertures express,
Unrivaled in their scope, they regulate supreme,
All passions ride free, though with spirit suppressed,
And their ocular nerve connections splice legion
Under the narcotic psychogarchy’s blood robed king;
Whose dread scepter, Behemoth Positron, reflects
Hell sprung opiates on dancing obsidian,
And electron collisions in mirrors of oblivion.
Across the gradient, the world is cut with sight,
The cosmos constricted in a lens’ vision,
The rinds of objects peeled by optical knives,
And skin is taken in a picture’s click.
Who can make war against the seminal occlusion?
What mask protects the cones and rods from beguiled light?
For the current persona is but a bit
That turns the horse of death from being writ.
What then is lost in total capture of the world?
Upon the scales, a cosmic cage is heavy weight,
On one balance sits there a dragon curled,
In the other, man’s heart shan’t weigh enough.
The serpent has ate each grain of sand, and never sate,
Turns and turns the errant specks to glossy black pearl,
And each shale orb becomes an eye of lust
For the socket of pride in the land of dust.



Dang. Don't hold back, Nik. This poem was written with a scalpel.