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a poem by Joshua Brown
Exo, exo, exoskeleton
Oil, refinery
To the fucking moon
With their bottles
In their hands
I see their mirror
Reflection through
The bowels that
Expel them from
Artifice to shell
Hurrah! The gods
Allow us this
The freedom
Of time travel
But we see not
For our eyes
Are protected
By the shield
That we kill
Our own species
By the gods
Powers bestowed
Upon us
At our own cost
Choice. Options.
But no force
Of evolution
Instead a womb
Ensacs us warm
And cold
Protecting us
From our choice.
#poem #poetry #automobiles #cars #autos #transportation #infantilization #waroncars #thewaroncars #pedestriandignity #activism
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Thanks for reading "Womb of Steel." I wrote it on the platform overlooking Colfax Ave. in Aurora, CO waiting for the R-line light rail on November 30, 2022. You can read my extremely graphic poem "Dead Child in the Woods" which is about childhood disassociation. It delves into some pretty graphic sexual content so it's not for everyone, but I think it really encapsulates my own anti-natal experiences from my infancy to around age 4 or 5. I don't think that I was sexually assaulted, but I definitely identify with that dark disassociated state.
Comment below your experiences with cars. Early in my teenage years I discovered MrMoneyMustache which colored my view of cars ever since. I am a firm believer in walking, riding bicycles and generally minimizing car usage.
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Snail mail
Joshua Brown
PO Box 172441
Denver, CO 80217
Thanks so much for reading my prose! Cheers! ✌️
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