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Yates Mar 2014
I pledge allegiance to the flag of a country that’s done nothing for me.
I pledge allegiance to a ticking corporate time bomb, counting down the number of people left outside of its marketing cage.
Corporate fat cats full of rage, a million dollars isn’t enough,
Give me ten.
Corporate law superseding human rights, tying us tight to the system justifying injustice done to us.
I pledge allegiance to “by the people for the people”, turned “by the people, for the money”, the fuel of the freedom we value so highly as to put a price tag on it as if that is an acceptable measure of its worth,
How can we get much worse than now when there are thousands of people wondering how they are going to survive this month?
I pledge allegiance to impossibility highlighted on HD screens, the clarity not giving us a clear view of reality, our beauty is not,
Should not,
Will not be measured by the numbers on a scale.
The girls in the magazines don’t even look like the girls in the magazines, so why don’t we focus on something that can be reached?
I pledge allegiance to the flag of a country where being smart enough to expose rapists can have greater consequences than ****** somebody,
Where violating firewalls and proxies is worse than violating human bodies.
I pledge allegiance to
“She was asking for it”,
“Boys will be boys”, and
“What was she wearing?”
When a robbery is committed in a home, the police do not ask if your door was unlocked, or if your laptop was in plain view,
So when a robbery is committed on a body, why is that exactly what they do?
I pledge allegiance to a country where love is still illegal in 33 states.
We are the country of change, so long as nothing changes, I mean
Women still get paid lower wages.
I pledge allegiance to a place where who you are does not mean you get to be yourself,
Where masculinity is blue and being feminine is pink.
If you have ever been stared at for wanting to be a rainbow, I will stand by you and stare right back.
And I will no longer pledge allegiance to a country consumed by consumerism, Nationalism,
Commercialism,
Racism,
Sexism,
Fear.
Instead, I will pledge allegiance to the memory of one nation under God,
Indivisible,
With liberty and justice for all.
A slam I wrote/revised for a competition
Get your RSVP (Respondez s'il vous Plait)

Your presence is cordially invited
(If you please)
To the Troll Invitational Only Ball
Come one , come all !
Only the best heed this call
Featuring the Marque band ,
"Smashing Poets"
Playing their monster hits ,
"Clip You At The Knees" and "The Killer In Me Sets Me Free"

Join in the festivities
As we debase humankind
A great time is guaranteed
For all "Troll" beings
BIG or small
So come one , come all ye Trolls
To the Invitational Ball


Comments :

The Thaumaturge : When we're we supposed to get our invites ?

Thomas A Robinson : What ? You didn't get one ? Must be some kind of oversight !

The T. : I'm sending you hate mail as we speak so that you know my address this time .

TAR. : Will do , I'll be in wait . . . not !

The T. : I don't own a car and I was reading a book literally the other day .

Craig Moore : Is the ball going to be under a bridge ?

TAR. : Of course !

The T. : I feel like I'd be shunned at a trolls only ball since I'm more of an antitroll if anything .

TAR. : Well it takes one to break one .

The T. : Nice to know my efforts don't go unnoticed .

Craig Moore : But there is only one ?

TAR. : Proxy ! ! !

The T. : Oh alright . I've got like a billion of those .

TAR. : That's proxies , not proxy !

The T. : Yeah , I've got a billion proxy .

TAR. : Proxies ! ! !

The T. : No I have a lot of proxy .

TAR. : Ha ha , that sounds moxy !

The T. : Is it just a little bit foxy ?

TAR. : Now I'm shredding your invitation !

The T. : What ! Why ? I thought that would be a perfect example of trolling . Don't make me drop the B-bomb !

TAR. : Trolling - the act of dragging a lure or bait behind a boat in the hopes of attracting a fish to bite the bait or lure becoming hooked and caught . You're troll bait .

The T. : That was the whole proxy/proxies thing ! And as for you , you are a troll incarnate TAR and not even a clever one .
Yeah Thomas ! Leave yourself alone ! Anyway I was supposed to be invited but they tore it up after I arrived .

TAR. : And you call yourself a miracle worker ?

The T. : You want a miracle ! I'll show you a miracle !

TAR. : What ? Hack my account ? Been done already .

The T. : That's not a miracle . Tell me what would impress you ?

TAR. : Simple , eliminate all trolls from here permanately . Should be only a minor miracle .

Tap . Tap . Tap .

TAR. : I see he cannot eliminate even one troll .

The T. : What are you talking about ? They're all gone !

TAR. : Smoke and mirrors . Don't gaslight me ! I'm an optimist . One who sees through fog clearly .

The T. : My only weakness .

TAR. : So put up or shut up .

The T. : Honest is the best policy .

TAR. : Honesty ! ! !

The T. : Thomas A Robinson your obscene proclamations are easily dismissed by adults . What would you do to a child in a public restroom ?

TAR. : I would call you for advice . Whoops ! No I wouldn't ! I would take the knife out of your hand .

The T. : You remove the knife from my hand only to find out that I'm actually a large swarm of bees wearing a trench coat .

TAR. : I would be the bee and tan your hive !

The T. : Maybe make a moovee out of it ?

TAR. : Bagging the killer B's . Pyrethium dreams . Your honey's run dry . You sting me I **** you .

The T. : That'd just **** me twice .

TAR. : Well good night Miracle worker . Don't let the bee mites bite .

The T. : I hate those bee mites , sweet dreams are made of bees .

TAR. : Ha Ha Ha , dear Annie Lennox is fumigating now . You're a Pox on everyone .

Mya-Angel Madden : How dare I miss the Ball of Trolls ! Whatever happened to Lucifer ? **** .

TAR. : Ah , the days of Lucy, when the definition of a troll was perfected !
All others now are just doormats in comparison .

Pintu Mahakul : Join in the festivities and this is very amazing definitely .. .

TAR. : Thank you Pintu Mahakul .
A repost of a poem with comments .
Davin Jane Andrews  Dec 2014
rape
warthogs for men singing amen
i ink my scars with a ball point pen
buffalo grass and ******
they want *** but won't die
i want *** but it's not me
they tell me that I'm pretty

i smoke **** in a blazing forest
i feel as rubbery as a curious tourist
and plenty of coke goes in my nose
i bleed headaches, when it rains it snows
i'm dreaming of a white christmas, i suppose
with my squad when i don't want to feel alone

i make lies but can't hide like room raiders
i cut up coke for all my haters
with a side of oxy
tells me that I'm foxy
right before he knocks me
my brain goes on high alert
i can ******* stomach
because cake was yesterday's desert

i say that we're proxies
i take the red pill
some like oxys  
some like bikini ****
some nights aren't so chill
some brains are mentally ill
but he doesn't like to feel, y'feel

tell me if you want a
*** flavored banana
a broken heart from havana
or to drink my coke flavored blood
dragging me through the mud  

whoops
son of sam
touch my **** like we're not fam
drug me if you want to slam
my head off the coffee table
i'll choke on fear until i'm not stable
i pretend i'm in a fable
this can't be real
does he not feel

break it off and shove it down my throat
cut me into pieces
make a blood moat
oak splinters suffered through winters in my spine
find you in jail and you ask if i'm fine

i break off rhymes like i break out grams
shaking because of a spiked promise
i wish i wasn't here
i wish i wasn't here

sham in the garden of clouds. when you '****' you want people around
when i cry, you hear no sound  

buffalo grass and ******
they ******* but ask why
my box in their face
i don't want to be in this place
Evie Hammond Jul 2015
Hunched, gorging on the pain of others
Innocents, betrayed by acts so like your own
For what? Some twisted pleasure?
Denial? Or simply masquerade?
Foul incubus, disguised by pilfered light
An electronic reinvention of your tale
Wallowing, greedily perusing torment caused by proxies
Judas! Betrayer of the Light!
You'll be unmasked
And truth laid bare for all to see
Trolls. Many kinds. Why do they do it? An age old problem. Nothing new. This focuses  on a certain kind of troll. The fake friend. The abuser who pretends to counsel the abused, the thief who pretends to be a benefactor. You know the sort.
Mary McCray Apr 2019
(NaPoWriMo Challenge: April 14, 2019)

To lead is to be light and fluid
like a pied piper.

But often they are like lead,
silver and immovable.

They sanction in times of mercy
like when your parakeet died
and you’re late to work.

They don’t remediate with punishments
of docked pay for your inability
to get over it.

They buckle it together:
strategic plan and daily ops,
team to team to team.

They never buckle under
like King Lear
or a bad knee.

The overlook the floor.
They know everyone by name.

They never overlook a widget,
flaw or warning signal.

They are stakeholders.
They hold a stake.

They are never proxies,
holding stakes for other leaders.

The are transparent, obvious.
Never out of sight.

They weather the downturn, withstand the force.
They do not corrode.

The seed. They put down seeds.
They do not rob the fruit.
Prompt: “incorporates homophones, homographs, or homonyms.”
Matt  Apr 2019
End of Days
Matt Apr 2019
It’s the end of business as usual
The Lord will strike the nations soon

Multitudes in the valley of decision
And many will die
If you know the Lord Jesus
You know why

These are the judgements just before
The great and terrible Day of the Lord

Isaiah 17 soon to be fulfilled
Lord God Almighty will strike the nations
He doesn’t care about your vacation

Seek Him now why you still can
Yeshua of Nazareth
Is the world’s redeemer and that perfectly righteous God man

Normalcy bias is prevalent everywhere
Many don’t pay attention
Or even care..

It’s the end of seventieth year since Israel became a nation
Yes, we are that fig tree generation
Multitudes of lukewarm in America and across the world
Some think they can decide if they are a boy or a girl..

Manchild of God will soon be caught away
That is what will happen on that great and terrible day
For the faithful bride of Christ are not appointed to wrath
You won’t like life under antichrist Obama
It will be a blood bath

Black eyed Francis putting together his one world religion
But he speaks filthy lies
It was his decision
To become the false prophet of history

Joel 3:18 mentions that the foundations of the earth do shake
Revelation 6:12 mentions this great quake
The sun will be black
Moon as blood red
The earth will be strewn about with the lost dead

Seeing it is a righteous thing with God to recompense tribulation
To them that trouble you;
And to you who are troubled rest with us..... (II Thessalonians 2:6-8)
Pack your bags and don’t miss the bus

The spiritual 144,000 of Israel
Those first fruits of the barley harvest
Will be taken to a place of safety soon
We will return to spread the gospel of Lord Jesus Christ by June

Or around that time
The summer being the time of Shavuot
Leviticus 23 is a parallel and we can see
That the bride of Christ Jesus has reached a critical time in history

It begins with “when he came into the land”
An allusion to that place of safety the Lord has prepared
For the bride, a place for us to hide,
For we are the eternal enemies of the dragon and the dark side
Read Revelation 12 if you want to know what will occur soon

Signs in the heavens last few years
And seven consecutive blood moons
Showing perfect symmetry
The Lord has placed them as signals
So you can see
That Jesus is the eternal God of history

5 g networks sprouting up across the globe
And instantaneous connectivity
It’s not all it’s cracked up to be

Great deception is coming soon
On the day of the blood red moon
Joel 3:21 says the Lord will punish the host
Of high ones that are on high
Nephilim will come with their ships
Out of the sky
Yes they have the ability to take on the form of human beings
But things are not what they seem
Do not be fooled
They are not the creators of man
But they will be spewing this nonsense
That is their wicked plan

Out of their ships come multicolored lights
The lost are drawn like moths
What a terrible sight
And they will return with the mark of the beast as well
A sure ticket to hell

It’s all about control
Satan wants your soul
In this prison planet
Jesus Christ of Nazareth is the only way
Repent of your sins and turn to him today

The mark of the beast will corrupt human DNA
Introducing genetic material of the fallen ones
Across the nation
You won’t here this on your local station

FEMA camps are good to go
Marshall Law will soon be here in America
Don’t you know?
First it will start with civil war
And who are you fighting for?
Come off the fence
Call on Lord Jesus while you can
He is the all powerful God man
Who paid the price for your sins on the tree at Calgary

There is no political solution
To a spiritual problem

Trump is the spiritual forerunner of the one to come
And I guarantee you he’s not a lot of fun
Noahide laws will be in place across the globe soon

Trump will divide Israel
And the Lord will divide the USA
This land and other nations
Have a price to pay
For their wickedness and sin
“Timber” says the Lord Jesus
America is a tree that rots from  within

And you know the worldwide economy
Is a house of cards
A final collapse to the American dollar soon to come
The FED will print and print
Inflation is not fun....

You won’t want to be here for great tribulation
At the midpoint, the antichrist sets up the abomination of desolation
It’s the image of the beast
That will be in the Temple of God
Literal and physical too
Don’t bow down to the image
Really not good for you...
For out of its mouth comes a laser beam

The nations were crying “peace and safety” in February 2019
But things are not what they seem
Tensions with Israel and Iran’s proxies running high
Now rockets fired at Aleppo soar through the sky
Damascus will be a ruinous heap
Do you know about the Lord and the promises He keeps?
He is the Word of God Faithful and True
And he shed His perfect blood for you

Repent and turn to Him today
And join the army of the Lord is what I say

Ezekiel 38:18,19 and Ezekiel 39:6-8
Tell the story of the Lord striking Russia, Turkey, and Iran
These and other nations that come against Israel
Will be destroyed by God
It is his plan
The Day of the Lord will begin
On that day

Warning, warning....
This is a short time away
Ever thought how these four years would turn out for you??

Classes, proxies and birthday surprises,

Or ‘Junior– senior’ interaction which was a ragging in disguise!

The unlimited Gangtok trips-

Which was a first step towards your relationships!

Momos, Thukpas, Jalebi and Falay,

Which you would have it without any delay!



Kaalrav or departmental fest,

Which you would attend with utter zest!

The 6.9 turbulence-

Causing a whole lot of turbulence!

People seeming like refugees-

With no phone networks to contact friends, relatives and families!

Those 14 tiring sessionals in total

Which you crossed, thinking it to be a hurdle!

The placement tension-



And getting a job was the ultimate question!



Aahhh! These four years of igniting memories are just too wonderful,

Which  are definitely unforgetful!!!
(Meanings : Kaalrav- College fest
Momos, Thukpa, Jalebi and Falay- local cuisines in the state of Sikkim, India
Sessional- mid-sems)
Mike Essig Apr 2015
Forget the school children
of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

Or the 1,000,000 dead in Vietnam;
60,000 dead in Iraq;
30,000 and rising in Afghanistan.

How many by our proxies
in El Salvador, Nicaragua,
Guatemala, Chile?

Forget the millions dead
in nameless civil wars
or of preventable
poverty and disease
in various hell-holes
around the globe.

The rest of the world
may be sorry,
but not shocked:
they have come to know
the smiling murderers
we have become.

20 dead of madness
in Connecticut
and the US wallows
in drivel, kitsch,
hollow words,
self-pity, and
media frenzy.

A little arrogance here?

Oh, we love our kids,
(just no one else's),
so let's put black ribbons
on our cars
and call that enough.

Again, the culture
of selfishness, greed,
shallowness
and patriotic stupidity
rears its
predictable head.

No country that murders
the world's children
with a shrug
should be surprised
when that violence
turns inward.

"I am Vishnu
Destroyer of worlds
My name is Death"

You can't have it
both ways.

"We must love one another
or die."

   mce
Quotes: The Upanishads via J. Robert Oppenheimer and W. H. Auden.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2020
belgravia on itv... and the world is filled with...
odes to charlemagne -
or rather: the emperor has risen...
in the form of a bonaparte...

       i lost my virginity to a french girl
from Grenoble - a one ms. psychologist
Isa-bel-l'ah...

              and i had three pictures hanging
in my student accomodation overlooking
the salisbury crags...
           one i put my amp on the windowsill
and did a rendition of...
                            something from the movie
crow / last days...

there was plato... there was the marquis de sade...
and then there was napoleon...

i was immediately reminded...
but napoleon did x y and z...
       i could swear the zeitgeist for us begins
with the end of the 2nd world war?
well: i lost my virginity... didn't i?
          
             and come to think of...
there is the trafalgar sq. in London...
      and there's the monument when it came
to Austerlitz victory...

           napoleon and that old bias...
for all those that encompassed in the duchy of warsaw...
or from under the partition
shared between the prussian the russian
and the austro-hungarian empire...

a short-lived affair... but...
        she minded napoleon but not marquis de sade...
come forward 200 years...
what are the monuments of the 2nd world war?
what are the... ******* monuments of the 1st world
war?
the cemeteries at Ypres for western europe...
the death camp memorials
   and the little ghetto lockets of memory and:
gypsy good fortune in the east?

a picture of the mushroom eating
and clinging onto the flesh of men and animals
in a symbiosis and mind-control dynamics
of the fungus keeping the host alive...
unlike a virus?

   where are the monuments for all that was
achieved in the two wars?
where's the trafalgar sq. where's the arc de triomphe?
between 1803–1815
   or between 1939–1945... well...
              12 years is not 6...
                  i guess you can't achieve much of any
sort of "meaningful" war if...
there's not a decade included in the mix...

oh i'm sure it's going to be hard to imagine
the führer as the kaiser...
     because: dressed in khaki like a whittle
hanzel schoolboy when all the big boys
started to wear schwarzgekleidet of zee SS...

from a perspective of history...
                             i am unsure as to why...
this ms. psychology major would grieve
the affairs of napoleon...
                             perhaps if he was a bit taller...
she might have a fancy for him...
then again... as kaiser... as emperor...
come to think of it...
the notation: Frank would included
the swiss... the belgians the dutch...
luxembourg...
       but not those rascals...
in the rhineland-palatinate...
            or north-rhine-westphalia...

schubert symphony no. 4 in c-minor, D. 417...
i always thought that schubert...
was the pianist competing with violins
to tackle shumann... never mind...

     then again: illuminating life of those
that still have a toe in the remaining posit
of life... yet 3/4 of what life is willing to offer
has both feet in the coffin and a last nail
to beg for the closure and funeral procession
of that chapter of human details
to be: ascribed to the realms of solely learning...
about it... there's no great-grandma with
her wheelbarrow of memories to grant
you "perspectives"...

he was a führer... but not the kaiser...
come to think of it...
the rise and fall... from the confines of being
rejected from an art-college...

today one of my cats (i only have two)
accidently burned the hairs of her tail
when she signatured it (the tail) across
a burning candle... and... you wouldn't believe it...
the smell of burnt cat furr...
i can imagine escaping my episodes of
solipsism when venturing into sniffing
someone else's farts to be more appealing...
than the smell of... the burning of cat furr...

i did remark... i don't think it was all that
pleasant working as butchers in those concentration
camps... if the burning of cat furr smells so bad...
if the burning of skin, nails...
bones... i'm starting to think it was a hell-hole
for both the camp "workers" and....
those about to be forced on the altar
of the belly of Moloch...

                          and when the hebrew god
conquered the gods of the philistines
and the caanites...
      did he "fall asleep"...
    thinking they wouldn't somehow use
people that wouldn't otherwise pay direct
homage to them... for their devilish enterprises?

where are the monumets from world
war I or world II that aren't cemeteries
or memorials or the death camps themselves?
there's not point merely seeing...
imagine going to Handel's messiah
at the royal albert hall...
           and only seeing an orchestra play...
most associated with seeing are:
the quality of either inanimate objects
or moving objects...
but there isn't a mention of the sounds locked
in brimfuls in these things...
but most importantly... i can't smell that
death circus...
well... no matter... i don't need to visit those
death camps and pay some spezial ode to
memory: it will just take a cat accidently burn
its tail furr brushing it over a candle...
that's enough... thank you...

           i don't need to see those camps...
not out of denial outright...
but... without the scent of burning hair
and flesh... the infamous cracow's winter
snow of cremations...

but the smell is missing...
i don't need to visit these places
for a picture of unused hammers and nails...
in their pristine gothica of still slippery when
kept in a mummified state of being
oiled for use... i don't like to rumminate in
echoes of: what this oven was used for...
the scent has subsided like a tide
and all that's exposed is never the living
proof... i have archeological proof...
that it is so sudden... doesn't matter...
i don't have the "perfume" to riddle me
with an immediacy of a recoil!
for that? i just need a cat to accidently burn
a few hairs of its tail over a candle...

it's one of those needle injections straight
into the nostrils...
seeing the oven will do very little to give
an expanse of my: sisyphean weight to tow
along...

faster than the speed of light:
or the digestion imprint of a photograph...
faster than the speed of sound...

    ssssssssssssssssssssscent...
          i don't need to see what other people decided
to want and see...
the burning of flesh and most notably unwashed
hair and furr...
       that's plenty...
i don't want to discourage myself from
cooking anything else in the future...

sometimes my room becomes a hotel for
either moths or flies...
i currently have an early waker...
she must be nearing being a year old...
you can tell... her flight is more methodological...
it isn't that usual flurry and all
that excited presence of itself: unique
in a bounty of life...
i will not bother this fly...
        if she was a mosquito... perhaps i would...

i am longing to see the spawn "maggots"
of moths eat and curl up in cotton...

where are the monuments to call it:
the end of world war I and world war II...
it's as if... it has to be shamed...
this whole genesis story from half-way
between the past century...
and into this... swamp-en-masse...

          last time i checked... that "something"
between the serbians and the croats
and the muslims of yugoslavia...
                    the 13th waffen mountain division...
or head east... the ukranian infamous
insurgent army...
        only recently i heard some major
****-wits decided to drill holes into the tires
of ambulances... near bristol...

as a perfectly just cold blooded heart...
is the crucifixion the epitome of a demigod's death?
what about... being spiked?
being forced onto a pike via
the architecture of where the intestines
meet the coccyx... the *******...
the ****... and the pelvis?
with hands tied?
what about hanging off a meat-hook...
with the meat-hook making the incission under the jaw?
hands and legs tied?

the crucifixion is just an out-dated symbol
of sacrifice... no wonder all that came after
had to become so... more... adventurous...
wouldn't we be foolish when it came to slacking
on the chapter of torture?

but at least one aspect of life can be still felt
to be pure, "aryan"... un-disturbed...
pain... is so un-interrupted by competing
subjectivities... that... well...
it's almost akin to cross paths with god...
pain is pure in that it is true...
forever: there's that other great democratic force
at work than mere death...
by the time we're through death is but
a bureucratic notation of a statistic:
a near miss of anonymity...

                there's that great leveller of pain...
from a simple toothache...
it's as if an ****** that comes on the wings of
being... a sedative of consciousness...
pain as that...
   pain is an inoculate agent against reality...
against consciousness...
all for that ****** of dreams...
lucky for me... i don't dream so well...
i forrest gump the whole affair...

some would think pain as a defining moment
an event horizon for their numb-skulled
crossword puzzle zeniths of "life"...
     i see pain more in favour of...
      i want to be cured from having to curate
so many mediocrities of this life:
as served and as service for others...
so dilligent at being busy-bodies in the shelter
of hierarchies and the shadows of:
the impossible perfection of mountain
replicas of Giza...

pain is illumination...
    beginning with a toothache...
once this temp. filling is ready to be scrubbed out...
and a root canal is to be fitted...
i think i'll begin with an oyster-esque "typo"
readying myself for an ******
when asked 'would you like an anaesthetic'
and the reply will be... 'no'...
                 clearly i don't have as many
avenues as are readily available
when it comes to a holy trinity of mouth,
******... *******...

      self-serving pleasures of the extensions
of pinching... by either crap pincers
or the cold of virus simulation of crowns
when having an ice-cube placed into my palm...

in that i am wholly sympathetic to pain...
well... what good did reading walter benjamin's
illumination(s) essay do to me...
beside what i already know about...
the difference between collecting books...
and collecting books and reading them...

              my personal library would shrink somewhat...
given that i own pretty much an assortment
of what has already been read:
i'm not my grandmother:
unlike watching a film... i can't re-read a book...
give me 2 years reading one...
but i will not re-read it!

this extension of a mollusk's zenith via
a ******... of all that's the sensation that rhymes
heart with brain...

         tow the bones...
       tow the bones...
                   come to the horizon where
the soft tissue blitzkriegs past the bone to the marrow...

arable lure of the prosthetic ghost, limb...
and limp...
       soft zenith pleasure...
while at the same time...
entertaining "things" that only secular
sensibility measures can instill...
do not cross paths with mythology:
goodness! you might forget being
snarky and insensible come tomorrow's year
monday when journalism catches
up from... "somehow" being detached
from her de facto and carpe diem
mantras of modus operandi!

i might call it: the moth's seal of the lips...
enough to lick a postage stamp...
hardly enough to actually kiss...

sold: christianity: metaphorical cannibalism...
i would rather taste the real thing...
if ever such an opportunity should
give sway...

       a führer is not a kaiser... back in the day...
there was respect in post-napoleonic war London...
in belgravia...
how did the h'american white house originate...
the Belveder of Warsaw...
vermin, peoples of the world: nibble...

                   i'm here to claim my future:
my anonymity... i'm here to scatter with the dues
of the frail... waiting for no clarity of
locked: stature worded in baron...
no stature worded in kaiser... führer...
      i am on the sole minding of... the gnostics...
the heretics...

i want to burn blue when all other dogmatic
breaths burn yellow...
           that i drink is of no solace...
bribe the reader! inner vacuum otherwise
a handshake with my shadow... by candlelight...
which is a bribe for an audience of death:
that personification on a theme of romance...
thanatos... chilling the spine...
and the serpentine...

                    i want to see the gallows...
and allure of seeing ***** and rot come oozing
from their baptised fleshy bits...
i want to be curator of the last abolished screech
of existence... i wand to hush them...
by sharpening a knife...
i want to find the idle fork...
i want to find the crown of ferns...
and kick and stab... the house of already dead
roman emperors... sitting... nay...
loitering... the anger of pride on their
laurels...

             napoleon... even with a name like that...
you can stomach the usual: steak becoming
a lump of minced beef...
but when it's ****** or stalin...
czopek or elert...
                    you'd wish for a horsehoof
to be dubbed: smith...
                     -smithy...
or some other... lucky you: frauman...
                      fregel...            made it up as
we went along...

yep... yep... i get it... drinks a whiskey...
****** out a lemonade...
and for whatever "genius": genius...
that third tier of being... not spawned by the gods...
but by man... in between angels and demons...
the geniuses...
that autistic master-class of...
****'s itching kinda eerie!

   i'm drunk: most of the people are sober...
i'm not going to have to
give an apologetics lecture on the sober
sods... am i?
romance period... a bit like being
a modern brit and all that wham!
sputnik dazzle of the: grit brighton!

jokes aside... the winged hussar...
                   also mongol...
******* that clad themselves in dog ****
to imitate... what would later become...
the 365 harem of an alexander...
          
   would it be any good reading
the greeks?
     can you really want to "catch-up" on so
much... when in fact you should be
reading the people who have re(a)d...
the ancient greeks?

here's me taking heidegger's advice...
spend 12 years reading aristotle...
          martin... oi oi... that leaves
me doing more work than the already
work required in pretending to be catholic...
and doing a spin-off sunday...
how about me just reads up on yous...
how's that?
2 years worth of you... is about...
       whatever it took you to "master"
aristoteles: ah-chew: chow-mein sucker...

     life is or at least has become or will
become... too impertinent...
  then again... lassitudes of being kept
in the confines of one's own allowances...
i can't expect... in the same way...
i can't become expectent...
it's a two-way-swoe-order in the guise
of a phoenix... (missing phenotypes)...

             the best held advent of:
if you weren't a part of pappa's genocide of
a clarifying sputnik's *****-out
into frog's dream-alike all mammalian
when you're already on your way out
with the moloch altar sacrifice of
no foetus would be born...

call it a... champagne bottle uncorking
ritual when it comes to...
and all that other drifting ritual
of "entropy" whenever a sobering / ***
note would awake a hannibal lecturer
for and what more...
that was necessary...

           stipends of: gotcha...
eagles - witchy woman...
ol' cliff does a little number:
like no intro for a jazz megahit
quintet when the bass comes along...
devil woman...
or the totally camp...
  dale winton...
because turning totally gay only
arrived in full bloom and daffodils
in the trenches...
when true gay arrived...
well... any other hole to fill...

              this hole's better than
any ****** eye's...
who's that backdoor man of
assorted gifts, to begin with?

          rhyme rhymes rhyme rhymes...
easily to make a happy than no
alcoholic into a: no thank you...
  
                                   discretely...
suburban... those desperado... casa-esposa...
the pride of the son: a mother...
that's usually enforced...

las orgullo de hijo: una madre...
           bad spanish... bad german...
mongrel of the either and some anglican
and some ****** catholic...

                                        if there was still something
of a worthwhile partition of time...
****** was never going to become
the next napoleon...
even though... invading russia was
a plagiarism... and the retrdo-event of all
that waste of time... 200 years
and the waste of time with the air onslought
for the battle of britain...
the u-boats...

     no mention of waiting a while...
     in that "what if" universe of revising...
one two three four... with:
einz zwei drei vier...

or... the eager panzermensch...
and that tunnel under the sea...
         it can be noted that a 100 year war
did exist... between the english and the french...

if the napoleonic wars have the monuments...
for what sort of reasons were
the 20th century "ende von alles kriege ende"...
******* proxies of the yugoslav conflict...
vietnam...
        
the monuments of the greatest wars of man...
monumets? cemeteries... or the death camps...
was this the turning point where...
death by war was to be... lessened by
omittance: "keep calm and carry on" *******?
the celebrated en masse of one single
male *******?

how isn't citing german...
an exfoliation from speaking mere peasant
english?
der zunge ist berufung die gegenwart:
ein vater: ein vaterzunge!

scheisse und höllegrube mit es!
                der "vaterland": fathers of daughters
of would be mothers... mothers of sons
of would be fathers... motherland... fatherland...
mothertongue... a ******* great big itch
of grammatical concerns! blah!

where are these monuments akin to trafalgar sq.?!
what's to be so... gloated... about defeating the nazis?
where is the gloat in mere words...
but sorely missed when it comes to sacrificing
bone and marrow and muscle
to focus on making escapades of marble?!
where... are... these... monuments?!

      my own shadow overshadows the testimonies
of... two... very... minor... wars...
perhaps world war I had covered one or two
hurt prides... hurt egos...
but... after all... a khaki attired boyscout...
when all the bad boys
were later... morphed by hugo boss
into schwarzgekleidet steinherzimmobilien...

ein führer ist nein (ein) kaiser...
not like the title napoleon acquired...
napoleon was cited as: emperor...
        a reicarnation of charlemagne...
   too bad for whoever barbarossa was...
  rutger hauer?! yes... but rutger was, dutch...
for ****'s sake!

napoleon was crowned emperor
in a church...
****** walked into an opera house...
heard some wagner...
some wagner not in that anemic proposal
of the walhall from das rheingold
via michele campanella...

              all that becomes the litany...
prior to the peeling to the basic grammar...
and then an attack on pronouns...
as if all languages had...
gender-neutral nouns of the anglican-sphere
of "talk"...

strip me down the the Diogenes' basics of
sodden cloth and dogs' **** to attire...
perhaps i'll show you Cleopatra smile...
or Mona Lisa frown...
             whatever might be the eventuality...
this is not it; nor could it ever be... "it";
the "it" of what you seek.
Cedric Oct 2019
I’ve submitted my applications.
To be the proxy if need be.
You’ve read my papers;
The clause of letting go,
It is set in stone hearts.

You’ve been left alone and hurting,
I’ve become the proxy for him.
The bandaid over your wound,
To be discarded once healed.

When will you fire me?
Setting me ablaze by losing my job?
When will I be thrown?
Discarded once my purpose is served?

I have had a premonition,
That things will slowly fall into place.
I will be left alone once more,
After my purpose is done.

I’ve served many masters,
All of which are of my choosing.
I’ve been let go before,
After my time has been reached.

It’s normal for me to be forgotten,
Left rotting six-feet beneath.
I have died a thousand deaths,
All to save those in need.

I am dedicated to this unlife,
Of sacrifice and giving everything.
It is my purpose and duty,
To give my life up for others.

Despite the pain and suffering,
Despite chipping away at my heart,
Despite depleting my soul,
I will give and give and give.

All in the spirit of love,
All in the hope of receiving it,
All in the faith of enduring it,
All in the love of sacrifice.

I’m just a proxy,
To replace those who’re lost.
My papers are here,
When will my contract end?
I think it will soon enough.
A poem of being the person that’s always there for others. For us who are left alone after being of no more use. We are the tools at your disposal, the means to an end. No longer human, dedicated to serve.

— The End —