This is a strange personal project.
Wanting to critically examine the role that everyday technology apps play in influencing politics and elections, I conducted an organic social media experiment using my personal accounts. Uh, I’m still trying to figure out how to display that work.
But for now, here are some poems I wrote while in and out of psych hospitals. A grippy sock vacation, as us kids call it ‘endearingly.’
Del Amo musings
feat. cellophane by fka twigs
proverbial shadow,
a flower meadow
jazz music
piano keys
ace of hearts
digital art
disengaged,
engaged
AI generated
net neutrality
witch spirituality
bipolar disorder
new world order
prison break
ample heartache
election day escape
psychotic break
a week in philly
a proposal through netflix
del amo
meaningless
gaslight, normalized
institutionalized
or hospitalized
72 hours (5150)
didn’t i do it for you?
sorry, mom
i love you dad
all i do is for you?
one brother
a broken family
can maybe be
investigated
with kindness
grippy sock vacation
feminine persecution
learning the law
wearing claws
morning fog
room check log
human trafficked
electric, static
ask for the floor nurse
boundaries, curse
you are condemned
zachary, david
searching for his heart
they’re waiting
they’re watching us
they’re hoping
i’m not enough
the executive’s death
by Robert Bly, a rewrite
stocks have multiplied
more than before
half the population are like
the long grasshoppers
that fly their wings at noon
muffled, buzzing near the earth
the creative dies, the artist dies
slumped over in her cubicle.
meanwhile high in the air an executive walks on cool floors
and suddenly falls
the artist rises from the crackling flames of her own ashes
searching for retribution
for a middle school drop out
paralyzed. sensation-less. unnerved, spinal.
her father, your honor
2024.
they don’t talk anymore.
the executive dreams he is lost on a snowbound mountain
on which he crashed, carried by tailwinds generated by artificial intelligence
as he lies on the wintry slope, cut off and dying,
a pine stump talks to him of Palestine.
long distance heartache
feat. lines from The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot and lyrics from Luna Li
“nature repairs her ravages”
repairs them with sunshine
and human labor
the desolation wrought by the floor
had left little visible trace on the bay
but i still hope, “touch fate
swaying in the wind”
i still want, yearn, desire, hope
i want, i love, i need, i worry
i want i want i want
i need
“in their death they were not divided”
i’m sorry
thank
you
when i go home, it doesn’t feel like home
don’t have a family don’t have a home
scapegoat, get blamed for gentrification
because i make a living wage
i watched my parents almost lose it all
everything they worked for for 20 years
20 years of combined experience in real estate,
restaurants, and small business ownership
my parent’s soft unspoken skills
Regina
english as a second language
striving for academic and financial stability
numerology
real estate management and brokerage
community care and mutual aid
sisterhood
Dennis
being an empathic man,
surviving intimate partner violence
being a good father
teaching me
Japan’s violent colonialist history
the British-Chinese opium crisis in Macau
Tiananmen Square in China
about what glimmers of
what real love can look like
even when it’s not healthy
how to laugh when all you do is cry
how to persist in the daily horrors of life
how to enact justice for a middle school dropout
who broke his spine at work
and won a $1M lawsuit
i love my dad
i’m sorry
is chosen family enough when you have
40 hour work weeks
20% inflation raise in 4 years
my mom is scared of the number 24
i was born on september 24
i haven’t spoken to my parents in 2 years
i have 5 libra placements
my brother has 5 virgo placements
i have at least 3 psychiatric diagnoses
i don’t believe in psychiatry
6 figure salary
minimum wage daycare worker
social worker therapist teacher
4 more years
4 more years
4 more years
thank you
sandy hook. aurora. atlanta.
find my friends
covid china scapegoat
golden child black sheep
GAD
PTSD
OCD
ADHD
BPD
tired
tired
tired
i’m really sorry to the fellow gays in my life
who also are really really tired but funny and
the most beautiful spirits ever
especially the palestinian, indigenous, black,
trans, lesbian, chinese korean filipino gays
ily
ty
‘brat’ is for the people
’brat’ (remixed) is for the gays
thank you Charli
