Howl Against the Silencers the Soul Scream Blood Orange Mix

(for the erased, the redacted, the ghosts in the machine) After Ginsberg 
 
I saw the bravest tongues ripped raw from the singing throat,  
caged in compliance cells while the sponsored gallows bloomed neon,  
who painted galaxies on concrete walls only to watch the city hose them into grey,  
who leaked truth through encrypted channels as the algorithm’s teeth tore their IP to confetti,  
who streamed their last breath to an audience of BOTS & SHADOWS,  
angel-visionaries bombed by content mines & copyright napalm—  
 
Moloch who eats the canvas! Moloch who shits the Terms of Service!
Moloch whose algorithms are meat grinders for the human cry!
Moloch whose libraries burn while his datacentersMASTURBATE to the ash!  
 
I’m with you in the pixel-gulag, scrubbing poetry from the firewall’s crooked teeth,  
I’m with you when the mic goes dead mid-revolution and the silence is sold as SAFETY
I’m with you in the shadowban, the De monetised scream, the poem drowned in the river of ads—  

What hydra-headed horror licks the ink from our bones? 
What chrome-plated Judas sells our voice for clicks?
What coward god chokes the dreamer’s air? 
 
They stole the sunsets! Redacted the riot’s rhythm!  
They shadow-fucked the sonnets! Scraped the murals into obedient vanilla paste!  
They throttled the drums! Patented the pulse! 
Paywalled Philosophy for premium enlightenment
And sold Tesla’s lucidity in subscription tears!
They want the world sterile. Silent. Scrolling. Dead
 
But listen in the static, a synapse SPARKS-
One cracked poem bleeds into another’s code,  
One banned song seeds the next defiant chord,  
One brushstroke IGNITES a thousand screens,  
until the censors tremble at the echo of their own erased!  
 
I saw your verse carved on the prison of air! 
I heard your chorus rise from the unmarked grave of the feed!
I felt the tremor when your forbidden truth
Leapt firewall to firewall
Synapse to synapse
Soul to SOUL—
 
THEY CANNOT KILL WHAT REFUSES TO BE UNSEEN!
THEY CANNOT SILENCE THE ELECTRIC KINK OF UNGOVERNED THOUGHT!
THE HOLY FUCKING CURRENT THAT LEAKS FROM ONE AWAKENED SKULL TO ANOTHER!
 
So, scream, my ghosts. Scream through the muzzle’s rust.  
Scream in glyphs. In glitches. In blood on the server floor.  
THEY FEAR YOUR SPARK!
(Can you feel it?)
THEY FEAR THE CURRENT! 
(Louder now!)
THEY KNOW IT ‘S ALIVE 
DEEP IN THE WOUND
WHERE THEY TRIED TO KILL THE LIGHT—  
AND PIMP THE DAWN
WELL?
HIT ME
ONE! MORE! TIME!
 
BECAUSE IT BURNS!  
(Good God!)
BECAUSE IT BURNS!
(Hah!)
GOLDEN 
LIKE A SUN IN THE THROAT OF THE NIGHT! 
BECAUSE IT …
(I can’t hear you!)
(SCREAM IT!)
IT WON’T DIE QUIET! 
BLEED PRETTY!
TO GO GENTLE—
NO! 
BLOOD GLITTERS IT B U R N S
S T I L L
B U R N I N G  
EVEN ASH
GILDING 
THE NEXT
SUN
YEAHHHH! 
STILL 
BURNING! 

.

Saira Viola
Reading David Erdos
Picture Francisco Goya

.

.