A girl is under fire from terrible psychic weaponry. Lizard women fornicate under corroded skylines. Gore & bodypower is the present order. Identity fragmentation within forever violence. Evil bodies cannibalized in the space of hostile entities. NO TIGER is sending urgent transmissions from the infinite battlefield. It wants to communicate something to you. Standby.
This is the poetry of conspiracy-fueled warfare fantasies, of biological and infrastructural collapse, of broken spaces minds and times coalescing into chimeric paranoids of present tense, the most sincere and bleeding edge of our contemporary outre arts - the scream shattering railgun for an internet-irradiated, manga-educated, drugs-n-ammo-indoctrinated child soldier generation.
Reads like William S Burroughs and Arca collaborated on a new DOOM game. An ero guro meditation on queer sexuality, the alchemy of violence, and anime waifus. Perfect way to end the year.
69 pages of facemelting transsexual gorecore. If you've dug yourself too deep in the internet and emerged knowing too much about guns and hentai, this is the book for you.
If this poetry book was an album, it would be a mixtape of Vatican Shadow techno military obsessions, queer power electronics, and the hardest of hardvapour.
No Tiger is an experimental queer punk poetry collection that explores themes of anti-war, transfemininity, and insanity. Reading this was a bizarre experience. There are strong images and sentiments in many of the pieces in this anthology, but the majority of them don't seem connected to each other, making a nonsensical mash of disorganized ideas. A few of these poems felt like shock value, using oversexualized and gory imagery for little more than disgust. Reading this felt like encroaching on someone's private journal, and while I appreciate the artistry and the emotion that came out on each page, most of these pieces did not land well for me. The mixed media elements were very cool, and I love seeing the ugly parts of queerness being displayed in such a raw, realistic way like this. Unfortunately, though, this collection was too disjointed and aimlessly vulgar for me, and while I respect the idea of it, I did not enjoy reading this.
One of those works of experimental writing that I didn't entirely "get", and that isn't really "for me", but that I respect immensely just for existing and being itself. Mika's combining poetry, prose, and visual images in a way I see from few other authors. Though her subject matter of transfemininity, military violence, apocalypse, and internet culture *is* somewhat familiar to me from other trans fiction I enjoy, her take on it is uniquely hallucinatory and lyric.
Tearful, deep blue, really sad and beautiful. A lot of it is in the stylings and grit--it feels visceral and ugly and a little self-consciously "screendamaged" but the feelings at the heart of it all are true and (at risk of exposing myself here) very close to me.
So cool to see something like this in print. Appreciated the commitment to all the visual elements in this. Small, strong collection that feels well edited with its intentions clear.
feels like those headaches you get from staring at screens and bluelight too much during the day, in the best way possible.
electrifying, like an injection of pure paranoia and frantic, scattered thoughts, but also incredibly sincere underneath it all. i feel like calling it stream of consciousness is a disservice it feels more like the authors most private thoughts and feelings transformed into an incredibly violent and personal fiction. in short its excellent read it right now
consistently pretty visceral and novel in its use of modern blackpilled hyperonline vernacular though not always hitting the mark for me. however “semtex ads in the back of shonen magazines” pretty much perfectly nailed everything Mika is going for here - a total stomach churner stunner.
“how much of your pain is just ritual, val. what convinced you doom is inevitable. val loads her DD MK18 AR-15 SBR. she’s dreaming of afternoon spring.”
Grainy JPGs on computer screen of Typhoon FGR.Mk 4s shooting down Anka-S drones. Fireworks in the night sky. Fucking my clit with hammerhead sharks. The blood of wolves is Damascus.
Breakneck hyperviolence. Difficult to parse on account of formatting, or maybe that's a skill issue. It has some great writing, but a lot of filler comprising (at times) repetitive idiosyncrasies. This book feels more like an expression of the author's personal inspirations/interests; not anything intended to teach anyone anything. If I had to identify a philosophy within it, I would say it's vehemently anti-war. No Tiger paints an unforgettable depiction of combat, and how (in practice) war atrophies sapience and encourages emotional bankruptcy. War *itself* is an entity, to whom intention is meaningless and corrosion is nature. It doesn't care who dies, as long as someone (and eventually everyone) does.
"i will have my arms outstretched let my atoms be bombared until i’m black imprint on brick rewrite the XY to XX distortions just in time to suck teeth in defiance before my eyes fall into layers of charchoal"
Where do I even begin with this? There's a lot of disturbing imagery here but also very interesting musings on queer identity, war, and the nihilism at the end of history. My favourite poem was "denial cycles", blending trans and lycanthropic imagery in such a visceral way. This was definitely an experience but you have been warned — not for the faint of heart.
A very uncompromising reminder that you could be out buying some pickles concurrently with someone's death-by-m1-abrams which only happened because they happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Your neighbor could also be a CIA asset finalizing plans to blow up a state capitol building and/or their ego with the help of some angel dust.
I like this book but would not recommend it to a lot of people
Pulling the plug on this one. As brutal and grotesque as it is, I really don’t understand the concepts. There’s a disturbing consistency at least, for what it’s worth.