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CJ Hattingh
South Africa    The world's tragedy is server at my feast...
Every single word you write and speak is stolen. Only a fool claims originality.
Between here and there    My writings insane and I'm surly derange but at least I don't live in Maine. But past all my blunders And me being quite nutters ...

Poems

Jeremy Betts Sep 2022
You call this living, I call it survival, no more pretending that everyone's equal
If all y'all get this undeserved label of special it's disgraceful
It's wasteful not wonderful 'cause that means no one is special
Just a single shape stencil, a number two if you will, but is it poo or pencil
Either way sign below and hand over the soul and no one will get hurt until maybe tomorrow
I find it probable that you could choke on the blue and overdose on the red pill
Let's go ahead and change the slogan from "We the People" to "We the Sheeple
'Cause look the spectacle, they're herding this flock of bigotry and evil straight to the steeple
It's obvious that what they claim to matter is not brain but rather *****
Hopeful it'll go unnoticed that the boat's always had a hole, the cover up comical
No intention to fix it though, not that it's impossible, it's just that their main goal has never been to be helpful
It's shameful but we're still expected to accept all their bull shiit and be eternally grateful
Grateful?! Hell no, I find it hard to be civil with these simple, bottom of the barrel, garbage pail people
I watch every good for nothing stereotypical imbecile as they revel in just how little they know about anything useful
Shiit, I myself didn't know it was possible to set a bar so low with the refusal to even try and meet somewhere in the middle
But they're always able to fall back on denial, hiding behind the iron sights of a rifle, running orange hate straight up the flag pole
A don't tread on me disciple with their own personal motto on signature apparel, backing a shadow government tribunal
Half occupying a big tent revival, hatting on a manufactured rival just 'cause some *** hat, ******* said so
Grab your personal blind fold at the door before going in to read the vile pages of the bible
Trying to convince yourself that it's gospel but if that's true you'd have to accept, then adapt to having a black soul
Deep down you already know it's an undeniable abysmal circus clown shiit show
What good is having ample evidence if no one's held accountable, even as we sit at the one millionth example
We're all banging our heads against this wall like a judge swinging his gavel
Now is the time to bail on this nauseating carousel, any hesitation could be futile, not a worth while gamble
All the while each illegitimate man child in power hasn't told a single truth in a long while
They have the gal to stand in front of a pile of the gullible and lie through a smile
And the onlookers soak up this bile as a little dribble of spittle appears as the listeners brain looses signal
But for them thinking isn't critical, calling forth the tribulations of revaluations while skipping the trial
Forgetting that back when you were just a child you were told not to judge, but a god complex is your desired style
Doing the unthinkable has become a profitable ritual, asking for help now treated as rhetorical
Historical failures on a global level, the leaders themselves are the perpetual obstacle
Only allowed to live so they can make money on your funeral, basic human needs shouldn't be treated as charitable
The fix is simple enough to get through even the thick skull of a dude-bro, so you'd think it'd be achievable
But our voice is rarely heard, a subtle mic cut before we're able get out anything that resembles a rebuttal
So we're stuck getting fuucked in this government funded brothel running out of the basement of a hostel designated as the capital
They profess they aren't responsible for the struggle brought on by the fallacies they try and juggle
How is this legal? It's gone on this way for so long that it's no longer seen as a scandal, just business as usual
Every word hypocritical, right and wrong indistinguishable, as our bill of rights and constitution become controversial
There's never been a time in history this hasn't been factual which also means getting out might not be truly achievable

Welcome to the show, pick a row and grab a seat, let's watch the slow burn glow
And here...we...go...

©2022
Andrea Diaz Mar 2012
This year,
This life,
This senseless ****,
This style,
It all seems like a pattern now.

You know?
Day in,
Day out,
Sunrises to sunsets.
I feel like my life has finally found something hidden in it.
A sort of pattern that just continues to repeat
And repeat itself.
There is no end,
There was no beginning
It just happened like that.

17 years gone by.
I’m stuck in that age between being too young to know
Being too young to do
Too young to feel.
But being to old to know better,
Old enough to be wiser,
Old enough to know this is what is real.

And I'm hatting my adolescent years,
For I've never been able to live it once.
I don’t know what its like to have that sort of freedom
That sort of life.
To be a teen
To live it up, as my peers say.
To be somewhere almost every weekend
To have that sort of social standing with the incrowd.
Because I have always been the outsider looking in,
That was my pattern.
My life style,
That was the sort of senseless **** I went through.
Because no one gave a clue,
What its like to
Be the one your parents have to depend on
Be the one your parents can trust to keep things in order,
To be the one your parents know can leave at home,
Alone.
Because for awhile now,
I’ve been playing adult for four years.
And never once did I live up my life.
Day in day out,
Sunrises to sunsets,
My life has a pattern.
Is it a rough? or is it a apart? I dont know. I'm just going with the flow. If it feels incomplete, still waiting for a continue, then you know what to do.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2016
for all the lampooning and clowning,
i guess it's true:
a white in a samuel l. jackson
memento of the kangol new age
hatting: as they say:
pigeon drools wet hot ****
onto your upper part
it's only lucky should you be
wearing a bowler, top hat,
a samuel jackson signature or a kippah.
but it's january and it's dreary,
and i could be forgiven on the circumstances
but i won't be with fakes and my generation,
and you'll just tell me:
your addiction has turned into a metabolism,
it's no longer psychoactive,
you proved the soul, as much as anyone,
but mainly your own, by losing the psychoactive
ingredient effect of alcohol and enabling alcohol
to claim a metabolism, a body, rather than
a teenager's soul binge drinking...
thank god you're conscious of it,
and nihilistic enough to continue.