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Joseph Bruin Mar 2013
O America, wake up from your dream.
Your top of the hill
Perception.
I plead, awake.

Awaken from your false beliefs, your
Warped view of the world.
Believing it is yours to buy and
Consume, while others starve.

O America, I see your shadow,
Cast over your deprived. A desperate
Attempt to hide the desperate,
The lost and the depraved.

The waste of your creation,
Left to wallow in the filth of
Your existence. The broken
Pieces of your people. Invisible
to your people.

O America, I see your wretched youth.
Apathetic and sadistic, desensitized by
Your lifestyle.  Enslaved by your media
to buy any which way.

Your whorish children, your joke of a generation.
Raised like cattle in shameful schools, reared in
Broken homes. Self destructive and stupid.

O America, turn off your television prophets,
Preaching their gospel of guilt in exchange for
Credit card numbers. Bastardizing science
And teaching bigotry.

Protesting human rights and feeding fallacies,
Indoctrinating children with fearful remorse.
Extorting their sheep to build their steeples,
Making sin out of human nature.

O America, I pray,
Wake up from your nightmare.
Before you collapse upon yourself, before
You're swallowed by your unfeedable mouth.

Arise, before you die. Cut the strings that
Manipulate you like a puppet. Reject society,
The cultural cancer.
O state of damnation, awake.
spysgrandson Oct 2016
grub worms, grave gravity,
failed romances, the fate of the Great Auk,
a death too young, a silent sacred dance
of butterflies

all flow behind my eyes
song lyrics whose melodies
never quite reach my ears, so
I plop verses on a page

an elder adolescent sage  
writing in riddle, sometimes rhyme, committing
the crime of filching grist born of life's abundant mill,
and bastardizing it, carelessly, at will
Please hold for an obligatory moment of silence, mute in its act, wordless in its perpetration.
Place artificial flowers on outer lapels, held in place with no concentration.

Feudal rivalries resurrected for resources and land…to be ripped from the native source’s hand.

Pitiful glances at battle worn soldiers, still praising ideology projecting them as a supported saviour.
Unregretful acts lead one to question their behaviour.

Service dogs doled out in bulk, preventing an army of PTS Banners from turning Hulk.

These discretionary acts of ill will mutilate the concept of freedom, and men who fought to uphold its worth.
These incendiary pacts on parliament hill, fumigating for roaches of aspersion, are bastardizing a new world’s birth.

Carriers’ return home, housing the long departed, not to be thanked, not to be appreciated, but to be ******, for unholy, sanctified acts.
Permitted parade zone, rousing the socially guarded, to be spanked, depreciated, and deemed unworthy to stand, before coyly rectified rats
MelanieSara Aug 2016
Pause
again, i need to remind myself
to pause
Control- i have none.

Pause
to sit with the idea of no control
living off my rented apartment and
breaking bread in a village
outside Paris
writing to you by day and
******* you by night
learning another language and bastardizing it to perfection
giving you my ****** as readily,
as easily as i am taking yours
knowing my life not to be here.

Pause
for when i return
no one will seem to remember or caring to recall
that i am no longer there at all
i dont exist
if i don't exist

Pause
nothing to control me
more magical, nothing to control
propelled by fear of nothing at all

Pause
Jane Doe Sep 2015
You should just get out.
I’ve changed too much; the pretty lady you looked through that night isn’t the same space being filled by the broken body in your bed. So just get out, you don’t find my frightening or mysterious anymore. My ****** thoughts aren’t spoken words but ravaged thoughts, repressed and undressed for no one anymore. I keep it in, I cannot communicate the bastardizing ******* that’s in my head, I am not brilliantly broken, I am ashamed and busted.
I am not the princess you paid for. I am the thing you’ve worked so hard for, but have failed at none the less. I am the mess you let slip into your heart when you thought no one was looking.
I am not the wind, or the ice water down your throat on a hot day, I am unforgiven and easily forgotten. I am bitten but not chewed, I have bite marks the shape of my own mouth down the gaps in my spine and I am nothing, I am not my own mind.
So just leave, let this be a warning and just get out. I am not deserving of your serving or your love. I am pathetic and weak and baby I am not the sunrise you thought you were chasing I am the fire that burnt down your house.
I have done nothing for you but bend your will, I am not fortifying and I am not forcing you to stay anymore. So say what you but just get out.
Jordan Clark Jun 2019
He'll show anyone his body
regardless of solicitation
while his mind consistently underperforms.

He'll love you like a brother or sister, shortly before bastardizing you
out of convenience; becoming
the spitting image of his absentee father
with brilliant strokes of somebody else's effort.

He demands the utmost respect
while shilling out putrid morsels
of his own.

He's a collector of personalities;
obsessed with his own reflection
but ironically exists as a reflection
of his immediate surroundings.

He's the one in the group project
who gets half the credit
yet only wrote his name.

He'll stand up for issues
Until the faint whisper of a knee ****
reminds him he's not getting paid.

He builds a fortune
Just to sit on it;
A free bird in his own captivity,
Covered in hemorrhoids and
paper cuts.

He's a shadow you can see through.

A glimpse of glory
surrounded by stagnation.

He's the Belle and the *****,

A fighter that delegates every strike,

Lifts his finger
only to put it over your mouth,

Gives everything but college the "college try,"

Bleeds you dry without a second thought
because he's still processing the first.

He only loves himself but doesn't know who he is.
He's an apprentice of all trades
but a master of baiting.

He was all I had.
Found me raised
     in the Antebellum South
     born an academically gifted
     whip smart, (and any other
     apropos) above average adage
smart son with a
     healthy dose of Melanin and Melania
     donned and trump petted

     asper a proud black is beautiful,
     sans ebony badge,
whereat me instrumental mama and pop
     acquired grudging cunning
     insinuation to cadge
teaching material convincingly
     claiming lofty aim
intent to instruct

     slave master's children
     all to eager to accept blame,
when any vicious rumor
got afoot with "FAKE" claim
that lessons did
     critique and declaim
antithetical quasi Aryan racial superior
     viewpoints (preceding Adolf ******

     by about a century),
     knowingly could enflame
status quo, which feigned
     "playing dumb" duh -
     faux blockhead frame
(wha ya mean *****) game
at very bedrock foundation
     pre politically correct cursor meme

lee complex edifice
     slave owning name
     acutely aware intent esse chew
wing such societally
     radical implications, to due
tee fully fortuitously, gradually,
     and hopefully, un glue,
(especially via schooling impressionable

     young African American
     or other ebony hue
shaded skin with Jew
whoosh propositions of equality)
righteous precepts nullifying lou
duck criss bastardizing American moo

nuff phish witch hunts (sea thing),
     a gimcrackery, mockery,
     and travesty poo
poo wing credo, ethos,
     highlights, et cetera sow
wing equality, harmony, and liberty in tow.
mira Apr 2020
i can’t picture you i can only
feel your hot touch on my skin
bastardizing your voice in my head
begging myself to carve my heart for you
i know i will, just sleep next to me in the shed
just wake me up for morning honey

— The End —