Preset
What can I get for you this evening?
Preset
Do you happen to have our stubs card?
Preset
Would you like a receipt-
Wait.
Error.
Error.
Preset.
Is there anything else?
Preset
Do you have any rewards on your card?
Would you like me to see if there are any?
Preset
Would you like to use your rewards today, or save them?
Preset
Would you like a receipt?
Preset
Have a wonderful night. Day. Evening. What time is it.
**** why did I preset that phrase...

Hello!
Preset
What can I get for you this... today
Preset
Large....? Soda, popcorn?
Preset
I don't set the prices
Preset
I am a robot. Cashier number 18. I have 10 modes and 30 presets.
Would you like to hear Maltesers BOGO preset?
2 for 6 preset?
Hot Dogs are Out, preset?
I don't have any receipts, please don't yell at me preset
Funny joke based on your N7 jacket or Pokemon Go app preset?
Ha.
Ha.
Preset
I apologize for your wait, give me one moment I'll be right with you-
With you-
With you-
WitH yoU

I missed you.
I'm so glad we're together again.
You look amazing.
How's the studying going?
Is the Greenhouse finished?
I guess we should **** the garden, today.
Teach me to make Rhubarb pie?
You don't know how to dice garlic!
Let's go to sleep.
I love you.
Let's go outside today.
I'd like to make pizza for dinner tonight.
Let's see a movie.
Movies.
Let's lay on the floor with a fort of blankets and pillows and drink wine
And watch movies..
Let's be you and us.
Let's.
LeT's
Go to the movies....
Presets Deleted

Would you like anything to drink, with that?

A ball player and a thief
Will likely be pregnant by age 16.
Lives in the ghetto and is poor,
Often identified as a *****.
Runs fast and does drugs,
Hangs around with gangsters and thugs.
Has a gun or a friend with one.
Speaks in slang, must be part of a gang.
Mess with her, she'll pull a Sharkeisha on you.

If you were to picture a person of any race,
That fits the description that just took place.
A baller and ****, hmm... what race matches that?
Yeah you're right, that person is probably black.
Is fast, does drugs, and speaks with slang?
Lemme guess, is he also in a gang?
A young mother who is also poor?
Bet she doesn't know who the dad is, what a *****.
All these negative stereotypes associated with being black.
Its disheartening, sicking and its really sad.
And whats sadder is that if you are the opposite of all of that,
You are often told that you're not really black.

Does your skin colour change for going to Harvard?
Will it change for speaking like an English scholar?
Because I play hockey and not ball, does that make me white?
So what if I'm the type of person to run away from a fight?

You don't have to be irresponsible and rude to be considered black.
It's your ethnic background that determines that.
And to some people, all we are is the complexion of our face.
Light, dark, somewhere in the middle, to some, the bad of a few defines
our whole race.

Does running away from a cop, and being black give someone grounds to shoot?
Why is it that my skin color is what is most important to you?
Is asking a question when getting arrested for no visible reason really resisting arrest?
Does struggling to break free from restraints to catch my breath, give someone a reason to grab on tighter to strangle me to death?
The actions of a few don't define the actions of a whole group.
And this assumption that all black are thugs, thieves and liars has done clear damage to,
Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Trayvon Martin and so many more.
They didn't know it, but just by being black, they put their lives at risk when they stepped out their door.

Don't you think it's gotten too far when we have to prove Black Lives Matter, or when we the saying of a movement is Hands Up, Don't Shoot.
Should people have to be reminded that blacks are real people and that our lives matter  too?

We are athletes and musicians.
Lawyers and physicians.
The leader of a nation.
An anchorman of a news station.

We don't all fit into that mold that is preset for us.
You can and should expect great things of us.

Because we don't have to be a ****, or a baller to be considered black.
We define what type of black person we are, we determine that.

The already preset disposition of being Asian.
I must've been accidentally mixed in the wrong laundry basket,
because they tell me I'm white-washed.
Born with foreign looks but a native tongue
my birth certificate calls me *****
I would be the blonde-hair-blue-eyes of a country on the other side of the world
but here,
I'm still considered an immigrant
in my own home.

When you are Asian-American,
you are also the stereotypes that trail your title.
You are sushi
You are jackie-chan
You are karate
You are good grades
You are the slant-eyed pignose supporting character
WELCOME TO THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
LAND OF THE FREE, HOME OF THE BRAVE
WHERE UNITED IS TRANSLATED AS DISCRIMINATED!
BUT DON'T GET IT TWISTED, ASIANS ARE PRETTY COOL!

Excuse me straight misogynist white male,
your Godzilla type of Asian,
or my culture?
When have I
as an individual
played a character in these quote on quote American movies?
Hmm oh yeah, that's right!
I was in Fast and Furious!
Didn't I also make an appearance in Harry Potter as the cute innocent
Cho Chang?
If this also applies to you can I please have your autograph
because I'm pretty sure I've seen you star in every movie
I've ever seen.
Or at least your people, right?

Don't try to tone down the damage
I already know I'm categorized in this Asian fetish
that all you'll ever see in me is rice and anime,
nothing more, nothing less.
And if I were to become an author instead of a doctor,
I'd be considered as a social unnorm
a disgrace
but isn't it already disgraceful that in this bleached-colors world
I have lost touch of my heritage,
my roots replaced with a skeleton idea of who I'm supposed to be
I wear a mask.

My friends speak to my mom in their native language.
Sitting there,
disoriented,
lost in pronunciation
I ask my mother why she did not teach me her natural tongue.

She says,
"because you are American."
And I still do not believe her.

In society,
Women are always told they are too much.
Too angry, too calm
Too quiet, too loud
Too big, too small
And we are all of these things
We are angry.
Angry about the internalized oppression that still flows on a day to day basis. We are angry about our predefined roles of what girl is, what girl should be.
And we are too calm.
Calm about the man that called you a name in the street and all you wanted to do was cry
Or the teacher that told you you couldn't do what you wanted because it was a mans place, not a woman's
You should have yelled, but you didn't. Because we are too calm.
We are too quiet.
We are silenced.
Our opinions are ranked of worthiness by our physical features, our body types. Our intelligence is last to our ****** appeal. We can not be heard through the babble of social media judging and critiquing and pointing out our flaws. So we are quiet.
And we are loud.
We have the ability to speak for the world. To weave the revolution out of the words of women. We have the voice to speak to our sisters globally, teach women that we are loud. We can drown out prejudice with the power of voice and bring down the barrier of how a girl should be.
We are small.
Told that our personalities are preset by the gender normalities that the patriarchy has placed, we are shrunk to fit our predefined roles. They cut us into shapes so we can not realize that we are so much bigger.
Because we are big.
We are huge. We have global impact. While we are cut down, I would like to see us glue each other back together. I want to see women take back our voices. I want to hear women all over the world speak how they feel, bust through the barriers of what the patriarchy has told them. Fight back against their rapists, abusers, silencers. When someone tells you that you are being too much, say "I am. And I am becoming so much more."

"Holy Quambats!",
bellows low-orbit sports announcer 33e, a.k.a. Rick,
"The Zargoball's been switched! With a hopping Ugaroo!",

(An Ugaroo is an adorable jumping rodent from Vulky II, and a Quambat is the ten foot titanium pole typically used to hit a Zargoball across any particular preset playing perimeter- this for any listeners at home who are new to the sport.)

"Not to worry! It seems that Team Lime Green has gotten the Ugaroo caught in a snare- placed here in the ancient past for JUST such an occasion! Uh-oh! Here come the Iron Knights to try and steal their capture!"

(There are over 70,302 teams [exactly 70,303 teams] currently competing for possession of the Zargoball on planet Zargoz, partaking in the galaxies favorite interstellar pastime- a popular sport known also as Zargoz.  The current round began at an unknown date in the planets ancient history, and all that remain of its origins are a plethora of wildly conflicting and confusing myths. It seems here that Team Lime Green has passed down knowledge of their hidden snare for hundreds of generations through word of mouth before this incident today. Miraculously, their bizarre efforts appear to have payed off.)

"Oh, what a blast! The Zorodan Order has just dropped a neutron bomb over the site of the capture, eradicating all life within a fifty mile radius! All referees are currently contacting their lawyers! And now... The word is in! The new Zargoball has been placed in the Temple City, just outside the Zorodan Temple! Power move!"

(...)

"The timing however couldn't have been worse! It is now 29:29am of the third day of Rayah on the Zorodan Calendar! All Zorodan on Zargoz must now drop all clothing and physical possessions, sit on the ground, and spend the next 3 days in holy naked meditation! The Council of Crystals has now moved in and captured the temple, decapitating all naked Zorodan on sight! After burning down the temple, the Council will be transporting the Zargoball via Air Carrier to ninety-third base, where hoards of treasures await the recipient of this hard-earned point! It's a long journey though! Before they arrive, someone had better discover the secret location of ninety-third base! And quick!"

(The secret location of ninety-third base actually, out of sheer coincidence, is also inside the Zorodan Temple- however it will now likely be well over a hundred years before this is discovered, as the only living contestants with knowledge of its location have been recently decapitated and burned.)

"Folks, I'd like to take this minute to promote our sponsor, Fizzwerz! A bubbly drink, sweeter than theropian glass-grass and recently determined to be more highly addictive than human crack, now cost you only 13.1 Gobi credits! These are- HOLY GOD!! Attention folks, I'd like to interrupt this interruption to announce a spectator of honor here in the low-orbit VIP section! Actually God himself! What a serious honor! And now we return to our broadcast! Oh here we go! Oh dear! It seems that the pilot of the Crystal Council Air Carrier was a Swamper spy all along! The carriers passengers have all been knocked unconscious by his thick perfume! What a show!"

Perfect lines and circles and scales,
Preset shapes and purples to blues to greens
Left, then right, then left and right again.
Mismatched pairs and my lungs are closing up.

Ruby red love
She didn’t give it a shove
With delicate diamonds just above
A love to find
Not the gaudy kind
Purposely shaped heart
In search of where to start
Placed upon a tiny finger
To make one stop and linger
A Ruby shine
With Red glare so clear
So much so
That one could begin to fear
What would happen if they
Tried to disappear
Runaway they might
With just cause
Of too much fright
Would bring her to shed a tear
That Red ruby so clear
Reminds her of the cheer
And the time he spilled his beer
Red ruby dazzling bright
If only see the light
Whats its symbolize
Character or compromise
She was utterly surprised
That tiny clear red ruby
A reminder
Love is never like that movie
Ruby red love
Unmistakable beauty
Recalling a late summer sunset
A clear preset
With its curves
Upon that finger
Can be a deep stinger
If not preserved
Prompts the feeling
Sensationally deserved

we sweat the small stuff and get upset
ready to deflect what we don't expect
storms spread and we get so wet
bad weather that we'd rather forget

we preset our heads to reject
whatever we don't see as correct
we've all bled and shed tears of regret
it's our necks that we try to protect

when letting two hearts connect
reverence has the better effect
it's the common threads that we neglect
instead of accepting we choose to except

did you find your words helpful?
were they meant to shape the minds of
the young girls, to teach them lessons
on how to please you,
or the young boys who were taught that
they deserved to be pleased
by us, the apparent human toy
perfectly wound, fit to the T?
unfortunately we aren’t fine-tuned
to the preset standard of your
preset mind, we are unique
we are beautiful
we are more than what we wear
and what we choose not to wear
more than a made up face,
more than a natural face
more than our ******* and our ***
we more than “entertainment”
we hold the future in the palm
of our wombs
and are entitled to the hair on our heads
arms
and face
and that will not be taken away
by anyone
we weren’t made to impress you
to make you comfortable
to appropriate our minds and our bodies
to your set-in-stone, biased view
of what a real woman should look and act like
a real woman is what she wants to be
not clay
for you to fit inside a corrupt
societal mold

When I arch my back
so my face hovers close
Above the college ruled paper,
I narrow my shoulders
until the green fleece of my jacket
kisses at my red ears.

I move my body weight
to my left side, shifting
and wrapping my right foot
around the cold metal desk leg,
the hiss of the fluorescent
lights above licking a steady whisper.

I hear pens scratching permanent
ink onto dry paper and noses dripping
snot onto cheap Kleenex squares,
a melodic metronome racing
against the preset clock in my mind
I’ve ignored over the past four years.

Will it be worth it?
Thomas sits on my red ears
and whispers, reminding
that I have but one more semester.
Am I Dotstoyevsky?
Can I claim to be Milton?
Am I worth?

I don't know if everything is settled down in life,
and it's cruel to imagine it like that
many live their lives believing
that their fate can't change
because life is preset.

we sweat the small stuff and get upset
ready to deflect what we don't expect
storms spread and we get so wet
bad weather that we'd rather forget

we preset our heads to reject
whatever we don't see as correct
we've all bled and shed tears of regret
it's our necks that we try to protect

when letting two hearts connect
reverence has the better effect
it's the common threads that we neglect
instead of accepting we choose to except

Your online business going okay, however handling each of the wok relevant to human resources, following the costs, employees' program, in addition to giving answers to requests in addition to conditions involving consumers bogs a person all the way down. To get over most of these limits a online business owner people, applying blog that can saving time and funds is the foremost alternative.
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While quite intoxicated on another Saturday night
I saw something here never seen before
Each of us falling upon this preset line
Each of us conforming into a monotonous bore
Our minds left with nothing to explore
Personal thoughts, not one more.

As I detached myself from this wretched clique
"Wait," shouted a man, "Just one more."
I turned to see a sheep, not a thing unique
My attention he failed to keep, freedom galore
My duplicated mask fell to the floor.
A follower I was no more.

Upon breaking free, all their hatred turned to me
At first a fearful sight like a rifle's bore
Non-conformity shields me best, the mental violence never rests
The rebels you cannot best, the outcasts hold something more
We have something worth fighting for
Infinite expression our minds may pour.

life can be less than a pleasure
in this place where the rest are weathered
preset on a quest forever
resorting to their desperate measures

life can be light as a feather
when you'er blessed in the test of endeavor
regret for the best is never
and everything just comes together

Light headed, wandering  unknown
through a world that has grown
molded around new hearts
and intuitions.

Floating above an era towards something more
spirits soar, becoming lost in a
universe.

In a world so perverse, becoming crystallized forever
Within its own coffin of abstract love these machines
march synchronized. Following a manual preset
to live out tired lives.

Each detail, each texture lit upon a soft petal
is ignored. The eyes of children are no longer innocent.

Who knows more of the world than anyone will know?

Yet determined of self-destruction we **** our pathos
We dissolve into a world unbeknown to its fate.

Then let us perish together at once

And feed upon the greed and hatred of those once noble men.
Let us suckle at the breast of ignorance and fan the flames of madness.

In that must we find solace
And within our own fortress seek our own version of purity.

Submit to the will of what we cannot control
And in the end smile because we are finally



Free.

What if time
Isn't restrained by
The seconds, minutes, and hours
We give it.

I like to pretend that time does not exist
No preset limitations
Created by some "mastermind"
Who invented the concept of keeping track of time.

Time, you have always been my enemy
Stealing away precious moments
And wasting it
And for what?
A drawn out lesson that I sleep through anyway

Time, you have always been my enemy
Wake up- 5:30 am every morning
Slowly I lug myself out of bed
As I try to figure out why I must get up so early in the day
When I am perfectly awake at 11pm
After all of the "important" learning is over

Time, you are rather sly
A quick slight of hand
And I have lost 3 hours of my life

Simply sitting here
Staring at the blank white walls
Of this room
As I try hard to fight sleep
With endless cups of coffee

Time has always been that one
Undefeated enemy who keeps coming back
Always up for a fight
And I am ready to lose again

What if minutes didn't exist?
I guess life would be a little chaotic
But I would never be late
I could take all the time
I wanted
Days would pass
But that wouldn't matter
Because days wouldn't exist
If we never let it.

I met her in New Orleans.
Carrying luggage and sins,
I called out to her, a quiet hello.
She shot me an unfamiliar look,
yet I felt it was one I did know.
Maybe I saw it once or twice,
on a moonless night, long ago.

And as she did approach,
the street was overtook,
by her presence; so strong.
Though years had passed,
and memories did come and go,
since we last did meet,
we felt that love from long ago.

We spoke until the Sun did set,
everything from there felt preset,
as if Shakespeare himself,
wrote me as Romeo,
and her as my lovely Juliet.
Lovers from long ago,
with everything and nothing to know.

in those moments
I remembered

>>>   e v e r y t h i n g   <<<

I ever wanted
and was

by rollicking reminders
ringing the spine

set prior to
this life

It's been four days since she hated me
Five nights since she cut me loose
I was angry, she had ditched me
But she was playing by her rules

My phone buzzed with her preset tone
"I'm home soon are you about x"
I don't like being all alone
But it's late to be going out

I found myself sat on her bed
Discussing how my text was wrong
How her drunken antics are in my head
I wasn't staying long

Yet although this girl is wrong for me
As I am wrong for her
She looks so **** angry
And something starts to stir

"friends can kiss" we kiss
"friends can touch" we touch
After a frantic hour of bliss
Doing stuff friends don't do much

I leave

Once again testing the boundaries of friendship.

On the road of true love is this just a dip?

The First Day:

our eyes met
and the plot was set
I acted my best
to get you impress

our eyes met
your mind got preset:
"throw him out at instant
he's a poisonous serpent"

The Next Day:

we met the next day
I dreamt in my own way:
you said words you'll never say
and the reality brings me dismay

we met the next day
you planned it in your way:
to reject me anyway
'SORRY' was all you say

you stood in front (of me)
I gathered my courage to confront
and express the feelings my heart prompt
you stop me in mid giving me goose bump

you took a while
streaming words from your pile (of words)
your 'S-O-R-R-Y' travelled a mile
you left me with apologetical smile

THE END.

Without sinking through the spheres. Hymns betting, still hands crisp under the wings. The wind slumbering, stays in the dark spaces. Eleven invisible pages, over. Any other name- Lux Arabesque, Uuqui Haratas, Preset: 117, and the foil.

The mirrored valley’s strangest flora, sifts the decorated thriving trails. Then it can all become an infinite weave in this world where lazy whistling sand dunes beyond, claim the rights to a juried Spring. Then somehow it may recant this glorious history we’ve only barely known. The potent eyes starved by madness, waxes seas and radio fields, slimming the loops that rip into  hinges and dispel a tryst.

Toward Earth’s serene prelude, this pageantry of standard masks make ascending towers just and stately. Then come the planets we’ve always loved: Mars, Neptune, and Jupiter too. Barefoot and staggering through the modern coolness of a colossal spring, aching mental itching grows. Until the fruits have fallen into the cloven shadows. Until buried stones alit with day consecrate these omens and conceive such lucid strings to break these quiet thieves into song.

Then the diary belies this affair. The steins upset the tales where pungent fleshy working minds coalesce. Observe the horses play in their endings, upon the wild mountain rivers where felling human eyes wander amidst these cleaved and sun-drenched desert mounds.

Pt. II

In origins uplifting diets foretell the escaped  seams of darkness whose lofty tongues of nature’s prose lift the veiled hours’ wraith. Never pressing bells nor raked by shivers, it occurs swiftly should the marbled rushing master call. Above the sound of narrow whispers, comes the wishing hands to shout.

tonight is almost yesterday
and for some unknown reason, we're still driving
countless miles stretch beyond our headlights
taking away today
and keeping it somewhere secret

the bugs on the windshield formed a face
and are outlining the moon
making it easier to follow the hue
into the unknown parts of the night

the stale stench of *** mixes well with the salty smell of ocean air
and the smile on my face is permanent
until tonight is finally yesterday,
and tomorrow becomes today
as our lives go back
to their preset mediocrity

Life is like a broken car stereo,
on a hundred year road trip.

For the first few years everything is great.
You have the sun on your face, the wind in your hair
and you are hearing every song for the first time.
All the roads you are driving are familiar and close to home,
you don’t have a care in the world.

Around about year 13
you start to drive into unfamiliar territory.
The **** falls off on the death metal station.
You find yourself mad at the world for no reason
so you forget about the songs of your youth and
just go with it.

Making a pit stop at year 22
You find that pesky **** under the seat.
You start searching for the happy stations
you recall from the beginning of the trip,
but by this time you have picked up passengers
and they have taken over any station decisions.

Cruising through year 30
You decide to get your road trip in order.
You have preset all the stations that everyone listens to
and come up with a schedule so that everything is fair.
But at year 34 you cross state lines and the stations change,
leaving you with unhappy passengers and the daunting task
of figuring out the stereo all over again.

Obeying the speed limit around year 45
You finally have more control of the music of your trip.
Most of your passengers have stereos of their own now.
Unfortunately your stereo has started to wear out
and your favorite stations only come in clear occasionally.
You suffer through the static with the hopes
that the station will stay clear just long enough
to hear your favorite song.

Looking for a rest stop close to year 80
You can barely hear the music anymore and
that’s if the stereo will even turn on these days.
No one is left to disagree with you over the stations
so the radio stays permanently tuned to your old favorites.
You find yourself pretty sure you have heard all the songs
on the radio and are really looking forward to your destination.

The radio breaks close to year 100
As you get out of the car and head into the light of your destination,
all the songs of your journey play to remind you of the
people you have loved and the places you have been.

Another romantic comedy hand selected by the gods that be graced
Its preset presence and morals upon me
“break rules break heads for love” it roared
Never once did it say
Smoking is bad for your health
Then maybe all of those cigarettes would
Have been in that small brown plastic bag back when
I could pretend I knew what I was doing

Hell in the form of santa ana winds
Came to me to tell me I was fired
Long before being hired
You see we’re all time travelers
At the rate of
One second per second
But there is no one to tell you
Just which direction

See my blue box got impounded
And my companion left me for another man
That’s okay
Because she never told me
Smoking is bad for your health

the forest floor is my bedroom

and for the brief moments  before the sun has woke

the forest is my sanctuary

my mind is silent

my heart full

and for those moments

I stop questioning

I stop processing

I am alive in the preset moment alone

I am free to just exist

and ****

how good it feels to just exist.

You and I are suspended over the Rhine.
Soon we will be lost to the North Sea with a bottle of wine.
While contemplating your life’s chores,
You drank yourself to death behind closed doors.
A Prince, a Count, privileged guest, prisoner, slave, or pet.
All in the same like a preset cassette.

Hello there lord in heaven! (the florist)
selling peoples the bouquets of
insanity
and psychopathy
raging
RED
and
******
and
BORING
Hello there lord in heaven
(the taxicab driver)
who's kids have been
gone a long time
and plays the classic rock on
the radio making poor jokes
and passing poor homes
with $3 in his pocket 1994
windshield wipers
sliding sobs
of tears/rain
back & forth.
Why is city so upset?
Tummy rumbling for
chaos and evening news-
-****** boiling in that
fever stomach deterioration/
sufferings/
***** on ****** reaper crazies sidewalks
where Vicky is walking her dog
(who died some years ago or never existed in the first place who's to say)
people yelling
“VICKY!!!” she's seen them
a few times,
two outta three wanna
**** Vicky but she's not having
it today.
Wayward man (our lord in heaven) on bus gazing from back window
eyes O P E N
playing games with nobody in particular and in silence
“count the needles!”
8 on one block.
He's by himself on the bus/at home/at work/at the park on his way to job/
in his sleep he's married
to a girl (dark hair)
who's a fictional fantasy fairy
and leaps from balconies at the end of all his dreams
signaling-
DIGITAL ALARM ON HIS BEDSIDE TABLE WHICH RESTS BESIDE AN OLD FAMILY PHOTOGRAPH AND A STACK OF HENRY MILLER
/STAND STILL LIKE THE HUMMINGBIRD/
AND A SMALL STATUE OF THE BUDDHA.
Lord in HEAVEN
(the office girl)
who's tapping her feet on the elevator up a few stories
to Electric Light Orchestra
and has a dog at home
who loves her like
THE SUN
ON A SUNDAY!
(name is Phillip, after her overdose 2002 brother)
oh that MR BLUE SKY!
“How CLICHE!” she thinks laughing to herself
at the small things.
Lonesomes of somewheres are begging for another cubicle
like her cubicle or a lover
like any lover
praying to that LORD IN HEAVEN
for tiny material wants in
tiny material churches.
LORD in heaven!
(Mundane MUTT *****)
pretending he has Schizophrenia
and conning a middle aged autistic woman
residing in a small Canadian town
out of her government cheque
(1300!!!)
later arrested and
SPIRALED INTO PRISON BY THE LEGAL SYSTEM
AND NOT SOON ENOUGH FOR A VAMPIRE LIKE HIMSELF
to be mangled by
iron bars and
PEOPLE SHOUTING IN THE MORNING
another one for our tax money. He wins in the end, I suppose.
LORD IN HEAVEN!
LORD!
ONE ABOVE
AND BELOW
AND  IN LAYOVER PLANES
HOWLING JETSOUNDS OVER
TAIPEI
TO VANCOUVER/
AND ON THOSE RATTLING BELLS
OF INTERSECTIONS
PICKING OUT OF
TRASH CANS MUMBLING
THE PROMISE OF ETERNITY TO
THOSE NOT LISTENING/
MY BIBLE
IS A FIST FULL OF COINS
PRESET FOR THE COMMUTE TRAIN HOME
AND LISTENING IN ON
BIRDCAGE CONVERSATIONS
OF THAT DISCONNECTED
SYSTEM OF PEOPLE
INFLICTED WITH
A SIMILAR PAIN AS ME
WHO MIGHT NOT LOOK AT ME
BUT UNDERSTAND.

LORD IN HEAVEN!
The leprosy
humanity
going from here to
there
and trying to learn a little
while they're at it again
F
  A
    L
      L
        I
         N
            G

                 A
                      P
                         A
                              R
                                 T

I live on a tiny blue dot
This is Earth
The place I call home

On this blue dot
I took my first steps
I said my first words
I told my first lie
I had my first panic attack

Not much
that I have done
has changed anything
I can be easily thrown away

Nobody would notice
I’m nothing of importance

Just another being on this blue dot
I was born one day
like how I will die on another

Just like everyone else

People tell me
I will do great things,

They say I can,
But how can that be true
If it isn’t for anyone else

I walk this earth
I breathe this air
And just like everyone else
I’ll die here too

I am not special
You are not special
We are not special
Nobody is special

But
You can change that
If you know and believe that you can make the difference
The one needed
Then you will
One way or another

But you must prove that you can
Or you will go unnoticed as another one of
Society’s puppets

You need to prove yourself

You must show everyone that you are what you want to be
If you want to be important
Then prove to everyone that you can be

Because you will never be anything
If
You don’t show who you are

Don’t follow the crowd
Show everyone the person you can be
Rather than the person they want you to be

The greatness that is inside of you
will never be seen
If you are as everyone else

Otherwise,
You are nothing but a mere shadow on the wall
Going unnoticed

Observing those who show their brilliance
Only wishing
To be more like them
To have the bravery to differentiate from the ordinary

However you don’t need courage
You just need to know what you want

Do you want to stay in the background
or
Do you want to shine in the spotlight?

This is the question that all the great must ask themselves
This is the moment where you decide
if you want to move forward in life

This isn’t a matter of if you can or cannot
Because as long as you believe
You will achieve anything and everything
Regardless of your abilities or disabilities

Everyone on this earth has a place
Whether you think this or not
It’s true

Everyone has a spot reserved for them
This is what I’d like to call destiny
The place where you are supposed to go
There isn’t a specific pathway there
It’s just a preset goal for you to achieve.

So if you believe you are destined to be great
Then you are
If you don’t
Then thats a shame

“Seeing is believing”
Yeah right
If you want to see a good future for yourself
Then you need to believe in it
Otherwise you won’t see

What you want
Will never come

Show that you are here
Find your place
Shout at the top of your lungs
“I am here!”
Because you are on this earth for a reason

You must find your spot

So,
“Where am you in this world?”
And
“Where do you want to be?”

The nuts
and the bolts
of your automatic habits
programmed scowls and slowing reflexes
               keep you
     matching wits with no one
               every night.
             And you keep
slipping
     back into your 6-month rut
     with your cold sneer,
      hands in pockets,
      your shrinking bank account
           and swelling gut...

The Mountain Lines meander,
you're just killing time and brain cells.
Ashy days are tasting bland.
Bus routes circle back on themselves
          like your footsteps every ******* night,
          this town will raise its hand,
          you'll retreat into familiar flight.

                                                      Cr­inge
                                       'cuz it's so easy.
                                                       Cringe
                     at what you have become.
     Come back on your loop repeating.
                                 Potential's mocked.
       You're numb and deaf and dumb.

And you've never surrendered.
But that's not the same as winning.
Pinning hopes on snapping out
of it and sleeping hearts on sleeves.
          Heavy footsteps every ******* night,
          a walking metronome
          passing cross-streets just to pass the time.

Your dull,
aching eyes
that you peer through every sunset--
programmed scowls squinting through preset acts--
               keep your
       dulling wits all silent
              every night.
           And you'll keep
walking through days like turnstile gates
and send each night on down the line.

Send each night on down the line.

You might be evil but I'm better at it.

Risk.

You can try me, I'll be bettin' on it.

Risk.

Anarchy taking your peace by force, live free, or follow a preset course.
Self destruction, don't be a tool of mass corruption.

Stuck between a dark place and a hard place,
don't be afraid, find your war face.

Evil forces can be used for good,
that's why there's yin and yang.
Balance.
Let your interests be your purpose and just do it.

Shades of red,

Fascists in blue,

a repeating cycle the human race comes to.

America killed itself, because that's what Americans do.

Religion and state. Laws of liars decide your fate, take a risk make change or die another statistic.

Life is electric.

Burn your TV, **** pop culture, respect a human, but **** a privileged criminal.

I will risk my own life to live it.
I'll take the risk, I'd risk my own life to live.
I would risk my own life to live it.
Every Villain is Lemons.

You might be evil but I'm better at it.