Poetry of Science Fiction

book 2
Mauricio Otero
Donwload (zip )


by Mauricio Otero

Translated by Thomas Hoy




Pintura de Isabel Aranda *Yto*, Amigas.LASER POEM X-Q-2.000 MHZ

Maybe the laser rays are not the hairs of God?

Diskette eyes equalised by the soul of the lost drug

beloved of the prophet of crucial time

The poetry of God is a cause

that God, in men, has lost!

The echoes of his magenta wings make the golden eyes of the sun


We are so together, that we are so alone in the galaxy!

The phosphorescent sperm - rivers of the Creator - takes the finest DAT from the eggs of mad Goddesses

In hitch-hiking sky-scraping passion

Earth does not exist any more; it ejected the injected men

Who now travel and travel without beginning or end

The program of the Web did not think about them except as just one more

Pintura de Basquiat.There are no individuals; we are ONLY ONE and the truth is that without imagining it we all imagine the emetic NOTHING!

It is God vomiting up beings dead from dread and worry!

The word is no more than a sign of death and abandonment!

The very trumpets are the same laser rays that wiped us out

Crushing the heart!

Now no-one beats, no one feels; the void is the new Leader

of Armageddon.

All the excretions of men are not from the man!

Do you have the new formula to explode the hyperatom of the Universal


Yes, you are indifferent to death and the blood boiling in the radioactive quarks!

The new death is birth, and all will be mercilessly born to suck the Aids-ridden nipple of the virgins prostituted by Pain

That is the reason why, the new Muse of exoneration

Without good or evil, pragmatic in the request to offer foreskins and hymens for disarrangement.

There you have plastic between the legs of Pavlovia;

Its impersonal "its" is unfeeling.

The postmodern orgasms of the modern era died

at the hands of the manomania of the new prophets of groggification.

"Do it without anybody realising!".

NOBODY, that's the name of the new king of disimpassioned passion:

Oh yes a SUPER NOBODY salesman with the highest ratings.

And after the show that shows nothing more? SLEEP!
Hooray for us the anti-absentees of the world, disunited!

We are the heroes of all the lost


We are lost with the loss of the lost!

Now there will be no child

Who gets lost in the enchanted forest after the party!

Thousands of years earlier, the last adolescent asked:

"Dad, what is a forest?" "I DON'T KNOW" he replied!

The sun had dried out his lungs

When everyone thought (what is that?) - that nothing would have an ending

Everyone had it;

Even the desire to eat ended: they had to inject themselves: to take soma yawning with the re-soundings of love.

Who, finally, is the one who speaks? "ME"? I AM NOBODY!


Fotografía de: Frank SpringerARCHITECTURE

A house kisses a trembling


The swords of fire of their tongues are laced together;

the sexual organs of the contemplative multitude are burnt

moaning voices are plastered to the walls

of time

glances are drunken

In the middle of a repulsive show

But we still don't stop feeling


in the atmosphere of destiny

in the contrast of every window

of the house and the building

marvellous phantasms are lowered down

through sensations

They laugh at the matter of the inhabitants,

Uninhabiting the rusted space that smokes the dead with emptiness.

House and building have ended

the plastic capsule will arrive that will place the panorama of the old crowds

- who have no consciousness now - in the burial niche

and dreams if perhaps we do dream -

will be a chain: when one awakes all will awaken

a single dream split single in the polythene.

and the laser will keep weaving beaming the diminutive space

Of sensual brains (in the past).

We will receive each day our desserts

And we will give thanks to our father, the Genetic Engineer of the last seasons

It will be the end of human architecture!.


Pintura de Omar GaticaPART-TIME ADVENTURE

The laser wind

brushed me,

while I was drinking laser water

kneeling on a wild neon beach

there was a timer that did not discover such a primitive place

because of that, that afternoon

already swinging between stimulants and morning sedatives (I did not feel what the old ones called tiredness)



came to my (side)

and gave me a sentient quantum

in MIDI language

and went to the capsule to find my old notebook-video

to record these feelings not feelings

in the quartz

once we returned

to the compact-mother

we sensuated in a country side of liquid crystal -

Just before we reconnected to part-time sex

the psychotropics of midnight

finished by erasing my brain's last program;

and everything seen was now not seen

and everything felt not felt.


'Bosque flotante', de Giovanna Otero.QUANTUM

I arrange all my atoms

and transfer them to your body

with a sword, burning

and pure...

for your feelings

bathed in your bionic soul:

the brains of the belly shine,

reminding us of failed sex

The liquid quartz of my body

bathes the chips of your brain

the quarks prick the square of your programmed mind.

and I do not stop digiting your name,

Beloved Byte

All my atoms are automating

your body, tuning you

to my diskette, and without switching

off your beautiful shining laser hair.

Each atom has to reproduce me in you

But, OK, I don't erase the memory

of what you reproduced of yourself in

my own program - break up -

And I penetrate your breast with

my tongue magnetised by cool atoms!.


Following page
1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

Registro Propiedad Intelectual Inscripción N° 111.611
Isabel Aranda *Yto*

Derechos Reservados