Backwards&Beyond_UrbanRifts Part I: Bullet History Inside the Rabbit Hole follow a bulletblast through space-time(( evolution in e(=mc2)volition ))of an old border bunkerwar memori-all wall, fallenflash ed forward edfrom mass fascist to artist$democracy$divided wholebroken in bit(coin)sassemblage xXx wreckageascend///decadence///danceamuse amidst miss of madnesscontrol cloud9 dream-timeme-matter++accelerates++if strobe light multiplies itso start to dance queer speedbut clock’d guns gone greenscreen - SCREAM ;(con)front / (con)fusioneyes blink I’s brink //// b.r.o.k.e.n.bullet poetrybased on briefsummer episodeinside modern european cityof nation-state & euro.union ruleonce organized between opposinggeopolitical forces through a physicalwall collapsed to foretell fascism’s futurein global mono-control corporate capital; this is dedicated to all those lost loverswho dared & died to cross over other side,your dissolution shall not conjure disillusion;it is to you whom i now write; thank you T FFF XXX 666 : : : memory code will nowshotgun load in 1 . 2 . 3 . . . . .Part II: Recovered FB(eYe) Files: Freedom Bubble Experiment (A foreign stranger in B,post-communist European capital city,selfie snapshots for Facebook.) 1. “Take a picture of me! I want to remember myself here.And post it later for everyone to see.That I’ve been here,That I’ve been free,of fears & tears & tragedies.” “---digital pixel private exposure this, pretty please tease!” : Once upon never-forever exists in fiction/friction flip-side of all ‘fairy tales’... as piece/peace is (war). <repeat> (Meet metamorphosis of metalMiddle Earth:) The landscape is a lost postcard.The city is an air bomb shelter.The concrete is a hollow history tunnel.The tower is the key to the castle’s door. Inside is a prison cell, a dancehall, a darkroom,a cubicle, a television set, a radio, a restaurant.Inside each enclosure rings a chorus chamberlike cloud’s puppet shadow thundering bullet skies, The sound is a stranger’s shout out. (There is no memory of what happened here, [before war].) 3. (I feel beat of boom, subatomic-‘I’ loom doom) The steel spire in the high-rise systemspikes our eyes & ears in electric ripples,like rip of time in an air raid's rumble bombsbunkers, telecommunication lips bloop blips. (I feel frequencies fly conflict in corporal coordinates) The terror of technological error soothes& subdues our sensorium into submission, likeideology illuminates lullaby, quiets insecurityof crying child, broadcast news lies live. (I feel signs carve curves in cerebral cortex corners) The erected emissions of man's ambitions animatesan alien state’s dancing rhythm to ride blind, likememorial parks built to remember brethrenkilled, mass media mimes memory mania. (I feel sounds click neurons to neuro-tic-tik-tick-tock machine-mind’s noise) The reverberation of state e-radiation resultsin endless night ritual ruckus ('fuck us'), likeecho tower of techno power marks minimalstep to stop mix of madness, chaos controls. /// (The industrial architecture of modern vector nucleate-engineers interior world of wannabe-free-me psyche/psycho stranded silent on island of city virus wireswithout will, walls or words against invasive winds/storms. [wars]) 4. (A freestyle speech breeches borders of order:) “Well, hell, here I come unwelcome, unfurledlike future hurricane flow, a worldly wandererconnoting climate clash, who wonderswhat’s to foresee, what’s to whether forecast, if this is it, if this is fact, if... time conditions topo-tempo if... [so] if... fascism is still in fetish fashion, politricks will plastic trauma’spast trash in leather & latex limbs crown clowns think glitter pinkroyal plot to clot vessels in play toys a-void vortex to repress rubbles’ rebelsbuild a blank people’s erased existence in an etch-a-sketch ego in a tweet-me boxbehind a massive mercedes-benz arena spinning silver flickering middle fingerprintalong (post)communist wall’s public art show by river spree restaurants serving bars on boats,mono-control money concrete backdrop afloat, ...if so,then... place a dart in postpostwar’s dramarama capture a counter-logic corrupt-codeface a cut in ol’ wall, a holeface the television set, the boxface the photographer’s lens, a blackhole here goes a car here grows forget-me-not flowers here is a show to remember like a towercapitalism’s risein a...SMILE!”*camera flash*</repeat> Kk de La Vida is the eco-erotic avatar/naughty nom de plume of a tropical islander traveler who left FuckForForest.com. Though no longer with FFF, Kk continues to explore the creative power of human sexuality to help ecology, currently pursuing an MA in Media Studies at The New School and co-founding the CosmiKnots collective (cosmiKnots.tumblr.com). Kk's writing is published in Cliterature and Milk Journal, forthcoming in Snapdragon, DREGINALD and The New Engagement. Follow Kk's fairy trail of pixel dust on kkday2day.posthaven.com and instagram@kkdelavida.