The mind, divine
Through the vine
Of time
Tangled, entwined
In some
Grand design
Of marvelous form
And numberless prime
A nothingness enshrined

All the light
We cannot see
Lovely, dark,
Soundless and deep
Figures shift, restless
In the mist
A maskless mayhem
Patiently waits

We (Lisa, Leong and I) attended a cross-campus Health *** seminar the other day. I have to admit to some self-consciousness. I was worried that some professor would see us and judge - I still have some self-work to do. I’m fighting to be freer, to be well.

In an effort to destigmatize ***, they gave out vibrators - over a hundred in ten minutes - they ran out - there was a demand. That was pretty sic. I guess no one wants their dad to see a ******* charged on the family Amazon account (again).

Which got me thinking about how sexuality is different throughout the year - by season. Of course, this is the pandemic era. The last two freshmen classes have been the most isolated in history.

Which brings me to mask-crushes. Early on in the year, you may have had a crush on someone whose face you hadn’t actually seen. That girl mask-crushing on you might not think you’re as cute maskless but then maybe she’s not as hot either.

By the seasons. Admittedly, this is a cerebral look at a hot subject but I’ve asked this around and within my peer-group these are the agreed upon numbers.

Fall is when college began, summer tan lines were fading but the cafeteria was still full of summer stories. You were meeting new people or perhaps missing someone. You might have gotten a little flirty after you settled in. Still, temperatures were dropping and it was time to start covering up. ******* was recommended as the safe pandemic alternative but in some cases, new freedoms were too much to resist. ******* - 9, hookups - 1

In Winter things really slowed down, we got out even less and classes got grimly serious. There was a seasonal effect to the darkness. Of course, we needed to stay warm and maybe we cuddled up more. We’d met people by then and hookups happened but usually within our own social groups. ******* - 7, hookups - 3

Spring came in with a sneeze as the world brightened and those thoughtless plants pollinated. It was almost shocking to see how many people there were on campus. You tend to forget how many are around because everyone was sheltering or using the tunnel system. There were chances, on nice days, to get out and have fun again - just as those clothing layers started coming off. ******* - 5, hookups - 5

Then there’s summer - in my experience, summer sexuality is different - everyone’s freer, less stressed, the clothes are thinner, smaller and more revealing. The world is greener, brighter and hotter. Everyone’s making their critical summer decisions now. Some people I’ve talked to can’t wait to go home and get laid - not me - but some pretty explicit plans have been laid out around here. ******* - 3, hookups - 7

What are your ratings?

Everybody knows life is easy for a pretty girl with white skin.
Everybody knows life is easy for a pretty girl with white skin
Coated to the brim
With makeup because she just can't find the right mask
That will allow her face to collapse
So her "friends" won't ever ask
"Are you okay?"
Because she's not.
And she. is. HOT.
But she's been bothered
By the hands of her father
Who swore to protect her
But then disappeared and
Let her get taken to her knees begging
Please... please... please put the knife away, baby.
I swear I'll stay.
You're hurting me!
What did I say?
No.
She said no when he told her to strip
Because the thought made her sick
And he answered with a hit to her pretty white face.
*****!
Learn your place.

Nobody knows what to do with a girl with bruises on her pretty white skin.
Nobody knows what to do with a girl with bruises on her pretty white skin.
Cuts on her lips that crack and bleed when she grins.
No makeup,
No hiding,
No faking,
She's done fighting.
No more friends so she's dying.
She writes her will but she's crying
So the paper is bent like her back to the sharp wind that whips her into submission. Is this the world's mission?!
SIT DOWN AND SHUT THE **** UP!!
She could just step in front of that truck.
Let them win.
Don't let them win.
Hear the strangers whisper,
"Don't trust the pretty girl with white skin."

A perfect man for me was never moulded by a box,
A box that screamed multitude of labels
To satiate the chaotic minds of society,
A belonging judged by feudality, no rhyme or reason required or questioned.

A perfect man for me was never measured by material things,
He gives abundantly by just being around,
An illuminating source of comfort on the other end listening,
Empathising and leaving a trail of laughter that makes me fall even deeper.

A perfect man for me was never masked crusader (okay, maybe Batman sometimes),
He is maskless for the world to bask in his genuity,
No bounds or limitations set on his acts of kindness and love,
Selfless and generous with his time, blind to any creed or pedigree.

A perfect man for me was never one to run away from problems,
Valiantly facing the raging bulls head on,
Inner strength personified by his poise and determination,
"I will get through this unscathed and no one will stop me".

A perfect man for me was never an owner of a cold crackled heart,
Headstrong, gallantly keeps the family together in a bind of unconditional love,
Lovingly adores his sunshine, making sure she knows she is loved with the same fervour,
Day in and day out, void of complains and pettiness, as the world turns.

A perfect man for me was never perfect,
Owning up to his flaws and shortcomings and being aware of mine,
A cycle that is never vicious but one that is laced with acceptance and non-judgments,
He inspires the best version of myself as he aspires to better himself.

A perfect man for me spells Y-O-U,
And the way that you are is exactly how I love Y-O-U.

Shalini Nayar
24.11.14
(C) 2014

Oh my dear Corona
What on earth have we done to you?
With or without wearing a mask
We could neither live nor die.

You came in through the air.
To stop us travelling by air.
Object us from breathing the way we were
To walk maskless on the streets became so rare.

You flew in uninvited.
You made people become intimidated.
You took our rights ignoring legislation norms.
You made our lives miserable by questioning our norms.

The old has almost lost its worth
The colours have almost faded in youth.
The bride and groom are chocking to accept maskless wedding bells.
The newborns won't know how a maskless dwells.

Like a demon, you ****** our blood in the ways possible.
Eliminating a commoners purpose in life is the norm for you.
Should an infant learn to wear a mask before it treats to suckle?
Should Shutting down a layman's joy be a delight to you?


Who the hell are you?
An uninvited guest ruining everything around you
Wasting an individual's precious time,
Spoiling a wonderful year.

You got your name and fame
by Stealing one's beloved possessions.
How cruel could you be!
Butchering lives with or without attacking.


Should you stay forever or be gone before dawn!

Hidden
Hidden in secrets
in lies
No longer having ties
to who I am
I wear a mask
A mask to change
Rearrange
Deranged
to be judged
reputation smudged
Covered in fake
my mask to make
No truth
Hidden, tucked away in a booth
Back of my head
wishing I was dead
So kind
They don’t mind
me
Before I can judge
I must be judged, right?
Well I will not be judged without a fight
I will use all my might
Who is society to tell her she’s not worth it
Him he’s not going to make it
and me I’m not a poet
but I will say what I want about my mask
Painted
Tainted
I have to make it
Make me
Fake me
The world can’t shake me
Maybe break me
No
because I have the key
the key to my destiny
The key
that comes with a fee
to take off my mask
and be me
be you
be he
be she
be we
We together
Stand together
Get together
And remove our mask of
hate
fate
lies
dead like flies
fake
remake
together
We are unique
No longer weak
Together we seek
The maskless faces
The faces like our own
Now its our turn
To watch our masks burn.

Although, I’m mindful of the President’s tweets
and the pundits’ chatter;
And, while I keep up with the world news that matters;
Amid the pandemic, the politics, and the police brutality;
I often settle my spirit on . . . poetry.

I take some time.
I free my mind.
S l o w l y, I sip from a glass of smooth merlot wine.  
I relax,
I kickback,
and I ride the rhythm of the rhymes.

Because after a bit,
the constant “Breaking News,”
the quarantine,
the vanishing Lysol disinfectant spray amid covid19,
the social-distancing,
the quest for a vaccine,
the protest rallies,
the unsettling maskless scenes,
and the viewing of America’s racial unrest,
just invites unwanted and needless mental stress.

So, during these anxious days of shelter in place,
I retreat to a quiet and pleasing space,
where literature calms all worries within.
I find a book. Take a sip.
And, I warmly welcome fiction like a cherished friend.

It was 12 months filled with apocalypse
That started at the stroke of the New Year.
The more we tried to make life good
The faster it turned bad and wrong.

A wave of illness washed ashore
Like a flash flood of bacteria.
Even those who laughed at it
Were suddenly mowed down.
We hid like cartoon hermits
In our household caves of safety.

The Grammas and the Grampas died alone,
And soon their grandkids followed them.
The jobs shut down, the schools all closed.
And children could not understand
Why Mommy was their teacher.

The populace was out of work;
Their income disappeared
And folks lined up in endless queues
To get a box of canned goods.

We struggled to avoid the ones
Demanding their God given right
To sneeze and cough from naked faces,
As masks were just for Democrats -
The constitution said so.

All holidays were sacrificed
To the Gods of the Pandemic
Forced to barricade ourselves
Against the breath of others,
We all learned to breathe through paper.

Mother Nature joined the fray -
Mud slides, hurricanes and floods,
Each setting some new record.
        
The West Coast exploded into flames
While the East Coast froze in blizzards
And Tornado Alley blew away.

The sun chased all the rain away
From Arizona’s rocky hills,
For almost two hundred scorching days,
While Mercury reached one-oh-nine
For a blistering ninety-nine of them.

The weather took a slingshot to Nevada
Spring and Fall both disappeared
In unrelenting heat.
Weather played a ping pong game
With thirty degree swings for fun,
And gale force winds for amusement.

The year became an endless Summer
Dog days vaulted over Spring
And every day was August.
Autumn never had a chance
As Winter barged in months too soon.

The weather imitated life
It wasn’t long til politics
Became a quagmire of discord
When an unlikely President
Set out instead to become a King
And join the despots he admired.

As everything went bad and wrong.
Children found themselves in cages
While their parents were sent home
And often lost to them forever.

Around the world they laughed at us
And his parade of sycophants
Who aimed to tear down common sense
And use the bricks to build that wall.

While those with any moral code
Tried vainly to restrain the one
Who claimed to have the biggest brain
Yet startled everyone in charge
With weathervane decisions.

Racism grew with media’s help.
We saw unarmed people die
In graphic form repeatedly.
Black men died in frightful numbers,                                      
Too often with bullets in their back.
And once a knee across the neck
Which proved the final, ugly straw.

That drove the crowds onto the streets,
Where they were joined by Bovver Boys
Who longed to only loot and burn
And turn peaceful protest into riots.

Egotism gone awry
Sent Jack-boots to the Portland streets
With women hustled into vans
While Third ***** vistas came to mind
And Half the city Burned.

Amidst the flailing of his flock,
The Nation’s Shepherd ditched his staff -
Abandoning his sheep, but not his golf.
His only thought, to keep his crown
And stay as King atop the hill.
In desperation to find a way,
He prattled on his fairy tales and
baldfaced, maskless lies.

The righteous folk had had enough
And turned the bully out
In numbers not to be denied,
But he refused to yield his throne
And tried a hundred ways to stay.

Those he danced on Ginsberg’s grave
In order to give candy to

Were supposed to stay his loyal friends
But even they refused the claim
That all his bean bags had been stolen.

He riled the Black Sheep of his flock
To swallow his mendacity
And urged them to stampede for him
And desecrate the country’s home
While he enjoyed it on TV.

Silenced on the air at last
He skulked back to his golden heap
For golfing in the Palm Beach sun
And subterfuge behind the scenes.

Getting past the bile and guile
Will be the next big project.
But we’ve elected one who can,
And normalcy will rule again.

Quiet now, we wait and see
If decency will have a chance
To save us from the boggy swamp
To once again be who we really are.
ljm



Google: Bovver Boots UK

Go to sleep, stop doing this.
Stop ignoring the night.
It can see you.
Maskless in it's own dark,
watching you
Wide awake, rebelling.
Stirring up noises that
slice through the required
hours of quiet.

No one lives through the night,
and lives to tell about it.
At some point the barrier breaks,
and out bursts
comets, meteors,
darkness laced with
the celestial bodies of the stars,
contrasting.
Expanding and contracting,
rolling towards the center.

You are the center.
Magnetic you.
Growling and howling wind,
ripping through space rock,
comes closer.
Shrapnel spins in wildly
from all directions.

I see you trapped in the whirlwind
spirals from space.
I am the infinite night,
throwing satellites,
digging black holes,
blinding you.
Submit to me.
Give in to me.
Sleep inside the universe,
where it's safe.

combustible
is the feeling
streaming inside you:
a rose rolled up
in a bloated tidal wave
amniotic, aglow

it tastes like gold and fury
like the atomic composition
of a dying star
and there is dedication there
an extraterrestrial fervor of love
which persists as tirelessly
as our dear moon circles this planet
even though it has been
pocked so many times by
unidentifiable things hurled
from the root of deep deep space,
even though it is marked
so physically and permanently
by the gravity
of its worship

you are full with it,
the rain-slicked gravel
the buds unclenched
the sonorous maskless
moment when you reached
for her
and she did not let you
go empty

your belly is aquiver
and your chest is unlatched
and god
billions of prisms could never catch
all this light

When the ivory's just worn bones
all the kings broken thrones
pride and proper
turning down gold for copper
death of glory
death of tradition
death of wealth
death of health
When maskless faces
are lost in familiar places
the royalty complex
that you are special and understanding
you stand on gods landing
speak with angels then
there's reality
all angles not angles
the crazy ones
talking to 90 degree
corners
like a child on punishment
sent to sulk
at breaking her moms ivory seat.

My heart could be out getting yours.
Should be.

But superstition is what kills love.
And I'm not.

I mustn't be the music that you hear.
The lights.

I ask myself if flying also means falling.
Eyes closed.

Silence is a never ending statement.
All in vain.

While I watch you passing by the sun.
Outshined.

And you are also the moon, invisible.
Can't reach.

I undress better with words, completely.
All the leafs.

Protected by an untouched bubble.
Like a kiss.

Memories can also be driven by fear.
And the future.

I'm always found by dawn, when I'm an angel.
Maskless.

My heart could be out getting yours.
You know?

Every birth is pain, violence, and love.
Even light.

Every new love is and empty handed heart.
Until you go out.

You are inside the dream, behind the glass.
And you smile.

A No is better than a lie, you know?
You know?

When is the right time to shoot one's bolt?
Never was.

Is the mirage in the eye or in the mind?
Oh, but it is.

My heart could have been out getting yours.
It is lost.

Is maskless,
That sees good in everyone.

Why do I feel like
the only actor
Among Y'all humans

Why do I feel like
the only sinner
Among y'all saints.

Why do I feel like
the only masked man
Among Y'all maskless.

If you want some context for my last text best to ask my next ex then my last one again next
Maskless just like way back, i missed that yet I’m seeing sides which  i wish i could forget
Mixed with the definite scent of yesterday’s ******-breath
One look of regret and then it turns to a threat
Maybe it’s me, maybe not (I’m perplexed  - is it worth the broken life that’s mine i die to save by getting out alive meanwhile my loved ones wish me dead)
No one need change - best guess we best just leave alone, strangers instead we both find love with another without each other’s ghosts
I wished them all well and all the while they wish me so much less

I
Give  Take
III          I
She
Lives  for free from fake love
I digress
We
Hate this
Almost as much as
We
Hate us

I meet in the middle having made half of the mess with my neglect - my best guess:
I’ll be left with less than i request when I swallow what pride that i have left for a chance to protect
all those lies of love she spun from spite and her need to be perceived as right -
No fight is worth the loss of time we waste on hate to feed our egos we go way too far to ever find ground equal

Being alien on earth is not easy,
there are no precedents,
tell the true proof, troof,
the previous refugees …
all over the planet could seldom
leave a legacy of literature, as did the victors
in the famous wars where our father's
fought or died, in chains,
prison killed, always,
something
inside a man, who
refused to fight
for trading rights,
and owning rights and renting rights
and lending rights…
belonging, by law and holy writ none could read,
to the heirs of all that money loves… is an alien thought,
if you think it.
Reading counts as thinking here, line by line.

we ran and we survived… all of us.
we remember the stories our fathers told, I still sing the song.

… it was then, when we all was equal, none royal or bully.
it was then we was alienated, mindwise, we
was never the same at the story teller level,
mostly old warriors told stories
the preachers told,
but with
mud
made of clay and blood, and little of the honor
as has become
believed to be worth killing many strangers, for honor,
national pride,
ethnic pride,
holy pride,
foolish pride that expands the space of any we.
Mobs have no free will… armies are mobs, in the mind.
Knowers breathe the same sure things that cannot change,
breath commas are scribble-tech - legal in 2021
alienated minds may make waves
on oceans of opinion, intent on influencing a we to be
the people who stand under no wedom token,
nor wear the t-shirt.

No we includes me,
alien being ain't easy. It's tricky not to lie.
Alienated minds wander at will, no free will, definitions
-part of me imagines getting high with Sam Harris
-on my front porch, with the hawks and the sunsets…

I was thinking of that guy, Sam- I am
Dr. Suess, was reared in racist 1930's earth, okeh.
But he was alienated, later in life.
He became not like those who never heard a who.

-but it was Sam Harris, I will not disagree with.
I will agree with his definition of will and free. I will
see if that unalienates me.

Will I feel a part of the smart set who know what the
problem is, if you will? {}
*******, as a character trait, is manifest here, as me.
Okeh, is almost always
this ******* voice, but not one you hate. Jack Nicholson,
that character, the actor, ******* is like the
maskless Arlecchino, in civvies…

Alienated minds meander by nature, as gravity is good…
but sometimes there needs to be a means
to slow the flow of all we may imagine,
practice being real in,
like a song none shall ever hear, you be the song
alien in spirit mind and body, but in 2021.

all we believed we were,
the free and the brave,
the children of the
serfs and peasants and slaves,
y'know_
"your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

---- No lie, I got a call… like right now, 2:48 post meridian
Saturday. On a recorded line, no less,
the republican national committee, calling me, crazy old
storyteller from the old school, she says, to me, that
this call with me is important for the good of the country,
like it's national pride, the gas-filled party balloon
I see
freely trigger a disneyified response in me
shaped to trigger the Disneyfied Vision of America, RNC version
***** head kid, covid masked, with a pink Micky Mouse Shape,
-- like water, yes, a mickeymouseshape molecule arranges
water in all its shape and powers.

Wu wei wu wu, do nothing, watch life pass
being wise as water, harmless as a rock

I'm so antivax maskless, I'm petitioning the courts to remove my polio and smallpox, diphtheria and whooping cough, and measles Vax from my *** immediately.

I want to be free of serums, free
to enjoy paralysis, coughs and fevers like God made me.

****  my glasses are fogged up.
Wait a minute.

Freedom is an ignominious thing

We are lost.
Gone.
Tomorrow arrived,
we were not ready.

The future showed up,
we showed our ***.

Since we couldn’t
have the anti-gravity
boots,
the city in the
clouds,
or
free healthcare for
everyone,
we settled on the 24-hour
******* tapas bar,
turning it into an
all-you-can-choke-down
affair.

We called it progress.

We don’t need smart-bomb
drone strikes
when we’ve got
over-loved,
under-disciplined,
entitled church-mongers
inside our Wal-Mart,
maskless,
during a *******
global pandemic.

Not to worry though,
Jesus surely has the wheel.

Ah, who am I kidding?!

Jesus isn’t ‘up there’;
he’s down here
making sure
we can still have celery
and
strawberries
to forget about
in our refrigerators.

They’ll go limp,
like our overused
out-of-touch-with-reality
peckers.

Maybe then we’ll
be a little less inclined to
**** everything
up.

Not to worry,
the anti-anti-*******
industry means
more than having a stable
means means.
You know what I mean?
Is that mean to say?

It doesn’t ******* matter
because it’s true.

We march, we riot,
we loot, we get shot,
or
we shoot.

Where in all of this remains our
fundamental humanity?

Is it still on the altar?
Still hanging from the cross?

Doesn’t really matter,
does it?
The dollar is the boss.

At what cost though?

How do we pay what we owe
if we don’t know who the debt belongs to;
who holds the promissory note?

Is it a blood debt?

It sure feels like it
these days.

Who,
in the end,
really gives a ****?

We’re paying on credit anyway
&
horrors abound as the massive
massacre moves ever onward
toward some unknown
finish line.

Not to worry.

We’ll figure out what we need;
what we’re after;
who’s the master,
who’s the slave.

It all comes out in the wash.
The Blood of the Lamb
or Uncle Sam.

Not to worry.

As long as we’re clocked in,
everything will
be just
fine.

*  

-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublications 2020

The bus yawns like an ambulance
Running on the gleaming road's cadence
A boy who fed himself with rain
Shut his eyes and rested on a pane

The jesters and dukes run their mouths
They laugh at their surnames in cloaks
All of these keeners would stay their hand
When ****** into a maskless dance
Yes, that's the joke

"Surely it's nice in the court for some moments"
He says,
"How can one be silent when they can afford to undress?"

Lafarr, what can you say?
Can we fit in a throne in different ways?
Lafarr, what can you say?
Beauty moans before it fades

This gleaning boy yawns like a braggart
And gives his footed stick a stagger
The sail-headed mind stings
For an ongoing ring

Her lambasting mouth has fell old
Her heart in ten paper-folds
The movement is new
But time accrues
Until every dance is a joke

“Surely, propriety’s paid by the cents”
She moans
“Who can be trusted to keep this world alone?”

Lafarr, what can you say?
Can we see the throne on different days?
Lafarr, what can you say?
Beauty moans before it fades

you wrote this after two nights of no sleep and half a pack of cigarettes

you skipped your meds and barely ate

but the universe was odd, and you felt peace. somewhat

you walked maskless amongst people. you walked to the crossroads where you stand to smoke

you've felt this peace before, and after a year in fugue you recognized that peace. it was warm. it was cold. it was the moon in a pretty sky, the smell of washed clothes and cat litter, the neighbors having a nice meal and a nice talk.

it was knowing what was nice, and what wasn't. what was true and what isn't. what will happen and what will never be.

you knew this peace is not to last

like the ebb and flow of gutter waves, you'll have your eventual mental relapse and your drunken frenzies and the slow decline and sudden jumps you've always felt.

you were an idiot to skip the pills and fate only knows what will happen next. current me writing this has no idea

but in this peace i hope is sanity, i'd like to remind you of what you thought. of what was racing in your head when you were waiting for the rice to cook and the clothes to dry and the cats to stop sniffing your porridge.

it's as much as i can salvage from poor memory and poor writing skills and as much as hellopoetry will let me type

you thought the flowers in the ditch was poetic. seconds after that you thought it was just pretty. you remember that you are wrong often.

you remember that people try too much sometimes, even in their lesser output. you made a picture of a hand and it took you a day.
your friend made a joke and it didn't land. it really do be like that sometimes

you know you love your family, in the way it's supposed to be. you know people are stupid, but that doesn't stop them from trying, and people try too much sometimes

you thought the storeowner's television was too loud, but you thought it wouldn't be right if it was quieter. you like hearing about the weather too

you knew you loved. but it's not her. or her. or her. you thought you craved too much and knew it's never going to get off your head

you risked your life. whether in carelessness or in necessity the risk was still there. you thought that was stupid

you thought that what you did and what you make will never make you. it doesn't. even masterpieces escape the person

you thought that "peacemaker" is the highest honor. but it is not peace when you yourself inside you isn't peaceful.

you thought the litter smelled and noticed the air freshener was empty. you were disappointed

and you thought you wrote too much, but not enough. you thought this letter was stupid, and that therapy is just another classroom

but let me tell you some more things to remember, some things to do. the least of what i can do to you is to keep you reading.
days will come where you will need reminding of what this peace was

let yourself sweat often. it is what makes us resilient. all that walking and all those chores made you think of literally anything else

let your cat eat the human food. it's fine for them and your sister won't care.

know that it cost you nothing to be kind

know that kindness is valuable

know that ramblings don't make a person, but it's something that will be remembered as something stupid you did

you made your coffee with two parts milk to one part coffee. it what we always do

know that it was not her. or her. or her. you let it go away for the good.

know that you were tired, for the longest of times. the tiredness seemed to never leave, but it did. remember that times were good then, and peace was here, at least for a weekend.

feed your kitten your pinky

always try to remember. what was nice, and what wasn't. what was true and what isn't. what will happen and what will never be.

take your meds

and know that everything will be okay

i've written too much and i bet i've bored you. we've always written too much but not enough

i leave you to your thoughts. i hope life will do you well.

don't forget the catfood.

- Rams

Snake in my head my brain twists round a flick
Attacking front and back delusioned took in sheep
Fearing wolves teeth accepting
Eyes of a dandelion for
Sharks teeth describing insanity
Amid humanity and toiling still
Maskless rabid tongue savages
Mangling the sabbath
Crosses slung as martyrs in devils disguise a rabbit
Looks up surprise
A crowd of proposed Jesuit boards
Who's knives hidden
In lying tongues
Stab out all the sudden
Taking ***** and Gomorrah
Wrath and horror in God's name
Came dressed as saviors a blithe name and a traitor so slay him make this day done take no prisoners it needs
Done

So you don't want to vaccinate
You doubt the lies on your plate
But what of the truth you hate
Of skin turned greyer than slate

Grandfather, grandmother didn't hear a word
"Covids a sham" into a casket they slammed
Ever faster death does gather its all around
It abounds yet gets erased by radiowaves sound

Adults can't behave, to wants remain a slave
Maskless and unashamed not one is saved
Double down in those tasteless ways
Half a million dead dropped like flies

Still a toast is in order as progress is made
One casket at a time feel the change
Jobs open up and now I'm getting paid
Wonder why everyone is so afraid

Mostly we lose dregs who don't know when to fold
Costly now to lose so many empty heads to a "cold"
On hospital beds thinking shoulda woulda coulda
While the doctor thinks "I ****** told ya"

Breath your last, lungs in tatters, whats the matter
Maybe everyone isn't mad as hatters
Scientist in agreement with doctors
Riddle me that conspiracy theorizers  

Well I'm tired of being sad so happily I say goodbye
Let go and go in peace even if it was all a lie
So just sleep, leave your loved ones behind
Paul said it best "live and let die"

I am America.
To become president you have to be a natural-born citizen, at least 35 years old, and a resident for 14 years,
fruits are accepted too.
As well as uneducated people with no prior experience in politics that have their reality tv shows.
Masks are political statements like bumper stickers on a car,
A person’s IQ hangs on the invisible threads of a maskless face.
That does an oh-so-well job of covering an ugly mouth that spits gum onto the ground and insults at one's face.
School shootings are justified by the mental illnesses of white people,
but a forged president Jackson will press against the neck of George Floyd by a man with a badge that once meant honor.
Terrorists that attack a branch of our government are called patriots,
but a movement supporting a black person’s right to live freely without fear is ‘’racist and communist.’’

I am America.
People neglect climate change as an issue,
yet believe a shadow from a groundhog to tell the prolonging of winter.
Here we’re proud to be “American,”
forgetting that our border neighbors are American too.
Kids are bullied for having melanin by the same people that get skin cancer at 23 from their excessive tanning obsession.
Our shelves incarcerate black hair products with padlocks and laser beams,
Conditioner and gel are guarded better than our Congress.
Guns can be found next to the gum as you checkout.

I am America?
Where a flag supporting slavery,
representing centuries of degrading, oppressive, demonizing, racism,
justifying hate against people whose beliefs don’t match Christian values,
hangs on the porch of a couple who are first cousins.
They believe same-*** marriage is a sin,
but he cheats on his wife with the clerk down the street twice a week
and condemns a 13-year-old’s body that couldn’t bear a child without losing her life.
Pointing to her in ridicule,
with a finger connecting to the flaunting ******* clinging to the forearm.
And on Sundays they hold each other’s palms,
reciting a prayer to a God,
for their home on land that was snatched from Native arms.

I am America.
The ongoing battle of old white men defending older white men to be on our money is never a closed discussion,
because they can’t bear to have a freedom fighter named Harriet Tubman have the recognition she deserves.
‘’GO BACK TO YOUR COUNTRY’’ is yelled to indigenous people that dance for the 8 million natives that couldn’t.
“GO BACK TO YOUR COUNTRY” is yelled at to people whose ancestors were stolen and flung onto grimy boats that couldn’t sustain pure human lives.
“GO BACK TO YOUR COUNTRY” is yelled at people who “steal our jobs”
but the jobs they “steal” are managed by people that speak a different tongue and you feel too privileged to do.
Our history plays on repeat,
As our fears are held by the hands of men that couldn’t keep their wrinkly white hands to themselves.

I am America.
Where the irony settles,
Of four white men carved into sacred land.
As they dug their mucky nails and lanky fingers in the shoulders of thriving indigenous people.
I am America. as
Our land is as free as the slaves in 1863.
Our states are united,
As we are the home of the cowards.
Two colors flood an election map,
three colors on a star-spangled banner.
Drawn are 13 stripes of colonizers,
and 50 stars of stolen Native land.
I am America.
I’m not proud,
nor patriotic,
just disappointed.
As a flag waves in disgrace,
being American is just being born in the United States,
I am America.

There was something
wrong. Yet I had not come
to my home. Trust was eroding.

Moon comes under fire.
Maskless he was stealing beauty
of earth, in freezing dark.

I had no ambition left.
Even touching the truth of
three layered lies of love.

HAVING FAITH ISN'T
DOING EVERYTHING
IN YOUR POWER
TO LIVE LONGER
IS IT?
IF YOU TRUST
THE LORD
THEN WHY NOT
HIS SCHEDULE?
THE SAME
GOVERNMENT
THAT WONT
ALLOW KIDS TO SAY
"ONE NATION UNDER GOD"
DURING THE
PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE
IS THE SAME GOVERNMENT
THAT IS MANDATING VACCINATIONS.......
THE SAME GOVERNMENT
CONTINUOUSLY TRYING
TO SEPERATE
CHURCH FROM STATE!
IM NOT
A RELIGIOUS PERSON
BUT I DO BELIEVE IN
AN IMMUNE SYSTEM
FOR THOSE THAT ARE RELIGIOUS....IT WAS GOD GIVEN AND CREATED!!!!
I SENSE CONTRADICTION
SOMEWHERE......
MASKS PREVENT US FROM BECOMING IN CONTACT WITH COVID-19, BUT GOD CREATED US MASKLESS KNOWING WE WOULD COME INTO CONTACT WITH ILLNESS AND FORM A TOLERANCE THROUGH THE SICKNESS BY COMING INTO CONTACT.....HUH?
WHAT'S THE MISSING VARIABLE TO PREVENT THIS FROM MAKING SENSE.....
LINING THE BIG PHARM COMPANIES AND GOVERNMENTS POCKETS!
I DO BELIEVE IN FREEDOM AND RIGHTS! FOR THOSE THAT BELIEVE THE DEATH TOLLS ARE THE CAUSE FOR THE MANDATES, KEEP IN MIND MORE DEATHS ARE CAUSED BY OTHER ISSUES THAT ARE CURABLE WITHOUT MEDICINE BEING INVOLVED .......
PLEASE GET IN LINE AND HELP LINE THE POCKETS OF THE ONES THAT ARE CONTINUOSLY TRYING
TO SEPERATE YOUR CHURCH FROM STATE!
IS YOUR FAITH IN SCIENCE OR IN GOD? SCIENCE HAS CREATED WEATHER CHANGING TECHNOLOGY, CLONING ABILITIES, IM SURE THOSE CORRESPOND WITH RELIGION AMONG MANY OTHER TOPICS......
​​​​WWJD?

There was something
wrong. As yet I had not come
to my home. Trust was eroding.

Moon comes under fire.
Maskless he was stealing the beauty
of earth in freezing darkness.

I had no ambition left.
Even touching the truth of
three layered lies of love.