Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Matt Apr 2015
I am a physician.Last fall, I had a very interesting
conversation with a patient who is a trucker. I asked her if she knew
anything about deep underground military bases, and then I played ignorant
to see what she would say.

Without further prompting, she informed me she is an independent contractor
trucker, driving 18-wheeler rigs cross-country. She said the bases are real
and are located all over the country, "especially under the mountains out
West". She said one of her main contracts over the last few years has been
with DHS.

She said there are underground roads running all over the United States,
connecting the underground facilities.

She said she has personally delivered many truckloads of supplies to the
underground facilities. For each DHS shipment/delivery, there was a stack
of non-disclosure forms about (by her description) six inches thick she had
to sign.

DHS would attach a tracking device to her truck for each of these shipments
and monitor her truck's every move. She would be told where to go to accept
delivery for each shipment. In each case, she would be escorted by guards
"with machine guns" away from her truck, so she could not see what was
being loaded into her rig. The truck would then be locked by a large lock
with a ring 'as big around as your finger", which had to be torch-cut off
at the time of delivery.

When she would make deliveries, often within underground facilities, she
would again be escorted away from the truck by armed guards, the lock would
be cut off, and the goods would be unloaded.

She said the only shipped goods she ever saw in these DHS shipments were
stackable black plastic things that looked like coffins.

She told be the gov't is getting ready for a collapse, which she told be
she expected might happen as early as late 2014.

She also told me she thinks the gov't has just about everything is needs
stored underground, because the number of DHS shipments has been
declining.

I asked her if she would be willing to have lunch with me and tell me more.
She replied, "yes", but afterwards when I contacted her, she had changed
her mind and would not talk further about it with me.

Another pt of mine, whom I saw within about a week of this lady, is a local
trucker, but he told me that he has lots of friends who are truckers, and
through them, he said he had learned that there are "thousands of miles of
underground roads" running across the country, connecting underground gov't
facilities.

He had just recently, in fact, heard among his trucker friends of a
shipment of frozen meat being shipped to one such underground facility,
totaling four million pounds of meat.
http://www.stevequayle.com/index.php?s=33&d;=1362
Logan Robertson Aug 2018
Stuffed seals.
Sits shelf,
soaking sunshine,
standing sentry,
soliciting smiles.
Shoppers smitten,
strike smiles,
spending silver.
Storied seals,
send shoppers shrilling.
Somewhere,
seamstresses
stitch supplementary shipments,
shaking store,
sustaining sales.
Sales staff splendidly stock shelf.
Seamlessly.
Such salvation, seals seeks.
Successfully, seashells.

Logan Robertson

8/1/2018
Lyn-Purcell Sep 2018
ᗩIᑎᕼᗩᖇᗩ
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
Ainhara is standing in her Queen's room,
staring at the door that leads to
her chamber
'My Lady...' she thinks worried before
looking at her reflection. Her mistress had
surprised her a gift of a finely made dress
of rose-silk, making her a flowing vision
in blue.

~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
The dress is suitable for the bright and
hot morning, light, airy and delicate
with one shoulder that is heavily beaded
with peacock feathers; the slit reveals
her slender legs, the hip appliqued with
the white lilies of her Queen's Kingdom,
and simple flat shoes.

~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
Her fiery locks are pinned into her usual
bun. It is then that she hears a gentle
knock on the door which she approaches
and opens.
"Did you not hear the command of the
Queen Mother?" Ainhara gently hisses,
"Queen Lyn is not to be disturbe-"
"I know, Lady Ainhara, I apologise,"
a guard whispers as Ainhara stands in
the hallway.

~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
"How is Queen Lyn?"
'Drained and exhausted. She has not slept
well in three days...
"The Queen is very busy.
She is determined to complete the tasks set to
her." Ainhara sighs. "Esshi is overseeing her
meals currently. Did her mother not say all
matters of state should be brought to her?"
"Yes she did, but the shipments are set
to arrive today. And she said that once
they arrive, I am to notify you.
They have made way to the Western
Entrance."

~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
"I see. Well, let us see to it."
"Yes," The guard bows and leads the
way with Ainhara at his heels.
As she passes the open stain-glassed
windows, the cool breeze hit her,
making her dress flutter behind her
and the beadery shine and glitter.
Part one of the Masked Bard free-verse! ^-^
This one is going to be told more so in my handmaidens' POV.
Part two will be out tomorrow!
Lyn ***
ottaross Nov 2013
[Hint - it's fun to read this one out loud :) ]*

Upon a crusty and spinning crag
Herbert's trusty craft did set,
Out beyond the path of Mars
In an asteroid belt they met.

Picked from out of thousands there
He selected a rocky home,
The perfect kind of rocky mass
To end his spacely roam.

First Ceres was too large and bold
And Pallas was too pale,
Old Vesta flew with sluggish wings
And Hygiea seemed too frail..

Ah, Sylvia seemed a likely rock
And her orbit seemed fine too,
But t'was Juno caught his eye at last
So what else could he do?

He sat his craft upon that rock
And loosed his robot throng,
Soon they mined and smelted ore
And built a structure strong.

That dome rose up with welded struts
To stand on a bright-lit plain,
The jewel-like panes filled out the place
O'er that kingdom he would reign.

Industrious 'bots and a stately home
So there did Herbert rule,
O'er a stark and rocky, lonely view
In the asteroid belt so cruel.

T'was far away to the nearest soul
No one to share Herb's tea,
To simply chat or share a bite
How lovely would that be?

Deep beneath old Juno's crust
'Bots mined for all their worth
Pulling out rare stuff and gems
And sending them to Earth.

But all the gold and diamond stones
Could hardly even start,
To fill the void that Herbert felt
Where he knew he kept a heart.

Yet, several rocky asteroids out
Across that rocky belt,
Another set upon her task
With ores and **** to melt.

Past Callisto and Iris zones
Where Cybele and Psyche spin
Fair Susanna tended Hektor's mines
Of silver, zinc and tin.

Now orbits often twist and dance
And trade with one another,
Where one boulder once was kin
There soon will be some other.

T'was thus that Herbert's Juno rock
Slowly made it's way,
To catch-up Susie's Hektor world
And shadow it one day.

Sue looked out her glass abode
To see what blocked the sun,
Then seeing Juno with its mines
A visit seemed like fun.

Toward a spot near Herbert's ship
Suzanna's came a-falling,
Imagine Herbert's bright surprise
Seeing visitors a-calling.

A shapely suit with bubble head
And jet-pack soon came floating,
To Herbert's door that afternoon
The sight had him emoting.

"Well hello there friend, and who are you
That to my rock comes knocking?"
"Just another miner fool
Whose sun your Juno's blocking"

"In just a little while, I'm sure
Our asteroids will part,
So why not stay a little while
And a friendship we can start?"

Double shipments soon they made
To send away to Earth
While their robots toiled each day
The sweethearts shared their mirth.

Great love did our Herb and Susie share
Built on those pleasant talks
And soon a tractor beam they fixed
Between their drifting rocks.

And still today in spacers' lore
They talk about that tether,
That linked two hearts among the rocks
Two asteroids bound together.
Lyn-Purcell Sep 2018
EᔕᔕᕼI ᑕOᑎT.
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
'Oh Ainhara, you always seem to know what to
do...'
Esshi chuckles. "Thank you very much.
Have you done the Queen Mother's flower
arrangements?"
"Yes, all of them have been watered and
now they are being placed around the palace."
Esshi nods. "Good. Thank you very much.
Carry on then."

~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
The florist smiles and leaves as Esshi places
the vase down on a clean counter as well as
the inkpot and quill while staring at the
paper.
'What should I say...?' she wonders as
she hears the meat sizzle. Bale is washing
the carrots and potatoes and chopping
them into medium-sized chunks.
Esshi blinks and smiles. 'Got it!'
Folding a paper in half she writes on
the paper, using her best calligraphy.

~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
When she's done, she places the quill
in the inkpot and gently blows the paper.
'Perfect!' Esshi beams. "Bael? Where do
you keep the serving trolleys?"
"In the back!" he says as he pours in
the ingredients into the paella pan
and mixes gently.

~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
Esshi goes to the back room and sees
a rose-silver serving tray with wheels
which she rolls out, placing the
bouquet and note on it while waiting
for Bael and his team to finish cooking.
Bael smiles that proud smile before pouring
some soup into a bowl and placing it on the
serving tray.
"Thank you, Bael."
"Not a problem. Do give our Queen my
regards." he faces his working staff.
"If they're done, bring them over!"

~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
Almost instantly, the chefs bring small plates
of their Queen's favourite treats and top it
off, a fresh brew of Jasmine Pearls.
"Thank you all so much." Esshi says gratefully.
"It's our pleasure." A chefs says as Bael
claps.
"Well done, everyone. Now we best get on the
Queen Mother's meals. Go started! I will see
Lady Esshi out."
Esshi covers the food as Bael opens the door
for her to leave. She is stunned to see Ainhara
there.

~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
"Oh my, Bael!" Ainhara smiles at him. "You
certainly worked hard."
"The life of a Chef." he beams. "When you're
done, do come by again. I'll have some meals
waiting for you!" he winks at them and
returns to the kitchen.
"The shipments?" Esshi asks.
"All are being presented, documented and
stored away by the Queen Mother." Ainhara
says. When she sees the flowers, she smiles
and the words on Esshi's note makes her
smile even more.
"Let's make way." Ainhara says as Esshi pushes
the tray behind her, making their way
for the young Queen's chamber.
Surprise!
Part 5! Enjoy!
Lyn ***
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2015
tailing off / trailing off poetry, or signature poetry prior sleep
is usually filled with too many prepositions,
and by being filled with too many prepositions
the prepositions tend to be repetitively used;
nonetheless, a study of language is provided,
not everyday you get to see language
in such quanta; yes, quanta, because
physicists will not get away with smartphones
by mystifying words with all those theories
in the subconscious working on the word idiot
consciously in argument with an antagonist;
well it would be hard not to express mystification
of a word in the standard vocabulary package
of conversation, without having so much quanta quarks
stork butter and curd cheese to mash up:
for a thrill in the trill... yar yarn pi's randomised counting rates.
because not everything you read is technically
within the framework of an addressee, or read aloud,
and no one wants to read **** like a bog standard
newsreader prompt on auto-queue of flimsy pages of lies:
i mean, it happened on a monday, but not a joycean monday,
it was 4pm, one gun shot was heard a minute prior,
but then jules anno domini came along and said: stern!
make the eyes stern! then gregory the pauper of paupers
said: it was actually 9am and the gun shot was heard a minute after:
but still the man at the market shouted: '*** yer bahnanas,
toe fo' 'un, *** yer bahnanas - toe quid bunches fowl's worth!'
yes, the h in english is an elongation "umlaut,"
now say it *****, say it *****: bahamas.*

most people wash their faces in the morning
for the eager 9 o'clock slap of reality
for the bossy 8 hour toothpaste feel
on the vertical, without the whips and chains;
i only wash my eyes, knowing that
i'll probably "say" something *****
but see all too squeaky;
then i fuse a hangover with a bit of alcohol
to ensure the hangover stays longer
and feels like the previous night's binge;
we apache and aboriginal down here,
we don't ask for cruise shipments of thoughts
on the sunny side of starboard with the pensioners
under blankets of deceit.

so the first time they tried to **** me was
in a hospital cot,
the nurse almost suffocated me, gave me a heart
condition, fearing the monster with the chernobyl
birthmark.

the second time it was my childhood companion
conrad, who pushed me into a deep dark well
but having clung to the edges i managed to not fall
and climb out, conrad's mother was there too
(sunlight in a sugar crystal, or the punkin for a
pumpkin in canto xii from chicago breezy,
now the poem, reflected with the pumpkin in mind,
or that rowntree pastille twinkle of bleached tooth
and thumbs in thumbs up the ****
for things sold with audacity past the use-by-date;
cold-air balloons nearing titanic!).

the third time? south american poison, brain damage,
the entire prompt for my writing expedition
into ***** wonka's factory of candy tooth smiles.

or as i say of darwinism with relief: am i watching
the athletics or am i simply watching a chemistry experiment?
shouldn't it be called anabolics instead?
a needle to the puzzle muscles of aesthetics without
greek ship oar, *** horse reins, the scythe of wheat,
and we turn protein into carbon dioxide covered
by some plastic surgery on the sheen of lost wrinkles
in balloons on film - well obviously - given the tractor
and the aerodynamic future of fifty hundred different
speed mechanisms - the lax and laze of the populace
requires constant intellectual stimulation:
the 100m record was downsized from 10.5 to 9.5seconds
over the past twenty years, the mob rule is?
talk talk talk.
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
✿⊰✲⊱✿
Me and Paul waltz upon the marble
floor with others. Each one of us gliding
swirls of many colours, becoming rainbows
that float in sync with the pianos, the flutes,
the drums, the harps. The aurelian tunes fills me
with nothing but joy, a smile never leaving my
face as my skirts swirl - my body moving
with the soul of the sound. Cleansing, emotive
yet free. When the music is done, we all
clap, cheer and bow.

✿⊰✲⊱✿
"And you said that you were not a dancer!"
Queen Sue beams and embraces me like a sister
which I return. After, I embrace both Kim
and Yidna.
"I never said I couldn't dance," I tease. "I just
said I didn't."
"Well, everyone can contest that!" Paul laughs.
"I suppose you're right."
"Just to confirm, Paul," Kim asks him. "All
the shipments were successful in delivery?"
He nods. "It was a smart move
for everyone to send the gifts to me because I
managed to keep it all down to five ships.
So we didn't overcrowd her harbours. From
what I hear, Donna was quite overwhelmed by
it all. Everyone sent more that four crates of
gifts each."
"I do hope she enjoyed the anthologies I gave her!"
Yidna beams.

✿⊰✲⊱✿
"I have no doubt she will," I chuckle. "So, is
it just me or does all that dancing have us peckish?"
"It's just you , I'm sure. I really hope you didn't starve
yourself to make room for all the food again."
"No!" I say.
"Yes, our Sweet Queen did!" Ainhara pipes up
as I playfully glare at her.
"Traitor!" I huff as my handmaids giggle and
Paul snickers.
Part 8 of 1!
Enjoy! ^-^
Lyn ***
Chaotic Melodic Aug 2010
This is for those of you that are hopelessly addicted to deeper meanings...
Where you examine the steps you take in the day under a microscope to see
the cracks scrambling restlessly up your legs to find your weak spot.
Your **** of aroused curiosity can only be stimulated via
lightning struck snowy powders dripping gently down your throat and tickling your brain-stem
until you laugh at the crows poking their heads in your back pockets.
They burn holes in your suicidal tendencies like kids playing with matches
for the first time behind the shed.
When your **** gets hard from the fire burning too close to your retinas and
enflaming the world as you knew it, charred and raining ash on the dead roses
that you planted and forgot to water.
**** them, these pilgrims of anxiety crawling across your arms like
stranded orphans in the desert, where the nearest well is spiked with adrenaline aged in
a dying cactus.
Wow you are dark tonight..
As if the dandelion seeds you set free flew back and tried to choke you.
Where are the heart tickling epiphanies now?
Sitting out on break and blowing cigarette smoke into nearby passing baby strollers?
I am not expecting you to like this.
I am just a deluded witch doctor dissecting your brains and attempting to pry out the tumors.
Like an excommunicated jedi knight using his mind to strike flint together.
The sparks smile and dance like college kids on ecstasy, not quite realizing that they are drowning in the undertoe.
They revel in the nostalgic numbness.
Only an IV of sweet lime juice can sustain such wilted leeches.
When lacking in vitamins, your skin is a papyrus to bury under the nile, and
watch from the hills as kids of 2100 and later search for WiFi to connect their burnt out forebrains to.
Coughing up several old moth eaten sweaters that you stuffed away
when your new girlfriend came over.
We hide our pasts like kilos under the coca cola shipments, and no matter
how far you ride the rails, the rats still nest and chew apart the cables that
keep the whole train locked together.
And why is it that we secrete our secrets in our sweat, and cover it up with
cheap deodorants?
Our catch-phrases mask the stagnant breath of our restless nature.
Humans, the bugs in our systems trying so hard to shout out to us that we don't really exist.
Thoughts as fragile as smoke could never support our weight if we chose to
colonize the moon and dig for diamonds in her eyes.
We may find that our stain-glassed windows keep out most of the light, while
preaching to keep our eyes closed and heads held close to the ground.
The civilized dances we partake are only nervous ticks of robotic
drones drilled on overtime.
And we think that these words useless, like grains of sand to let trickle out of your hands.
Our words mean nothing!
Even though you might have felt something in the last five minutes as these
black scarabs have peeled away at your comprehension.
You paint pictures with only black and blue and expect
fresh tongues to offer you green and purple instead.
But how can you expect anything other than the bruises you beat into the walls.
Like magnets on strike, you expect the world to just "let it go."
But I'm not about to rely on that weaker force to guide us.
The paths of unprecedented unraveling is where we are heading.
Where gravity is so pre-"concious-cocreation" and the last street light alive
will keep on whispering its salty sentiment.
You and I are not so different, although we profess to keep our distance
and fear too long of eye contact, as if a moment of silent connection
triggers the virus warnings and ***** up your downloads.
****..
All I wanted was a light-hearted comedy and all you had stocked up in your
dvd cabinet was a bunch of black and white ***** films.
You said the dark side makes you appreciate the light, but every night i hear
those last beaten breaths, limping across the dark hallway with their fingertips sliding
quietly along the walls.
© 2010 Cory McQueen
Youdont Needthis Jul 2017
A smile is knowing
The dark crease of a well-arched spine
The dewy white lotus petals
The sad title of concubine
The blue glass so plainly beautiful
With its cold smooth sides
A blown vase that sits precious
Atop a dead deer's stretched hide
The hallowed ***** of a portruding illiac
And the decadent crust of a sweet fruit pie

On a black vinyl stage floor
In a room filled with echoing cries
The reverberance loud and hollow
With ears ringing opened wide

The bends of her young tendons
In her ropey pale limbs
They flex and harshly twitch
How a scared and hooked fish swims

The cyclic orbits of planets and lifetimes  
A ballerina's pirouette spins

Now the tarlatan and muslin gets torn to shreds
And the blinding stage lights quickly dim
The wet heat of a hungry tongue
Slaps upon her sweating skin

The audience simply does nothing
Just like the tall plant stalks of the green motel
Or the muddy vines in swamps in Rwanda
Or white wallpaper in the locked rooms of certain hells
The diseases that squirm in tainted waters
Of Liberia's ***** wells
The missing limbs of wartime amputees
Reflected in the golden glint of spent brass shells

Amidst the screams of
NO
STOP
NO
It yells the words
GO
GOD
GO

Through the grinning lips of the manifest destiny
And the arms of Khmer Rouge's killings
Its legs are formed from the many faces of lynch mobs
Its hands are hewn of American prison facilities and county jails
It's dripping deadly doses of fentanyl in local ****** shipments    
And ****** dancers
GO GOD GO GO GOD GO GO GOD GO GO GOD GO GO GOD GO GO GOD GOD GO
Francie Lynch May 2022
The papers are wet with ink.
Russia is losing it's war.
North Korea is swamped with the Covid.
Tucker is backpedaling his replacement theory.
Finland and Sweden are enrolling.
Armament shipments are making a difference.
The Pope is apologizing.
That needs repeating: The Pope is apologizing.
(But why stop with the Aboriginals. Consider the Jews and Irish).
Fossil fuels are on the decline.
(plastic microchips are in our fat)
I can still buy Roundup.
Tobacco is banned in most public places here.
*** is not.
There are more drunks, and more behind bars, and in front.
We have safe injection sites.
I have robots asking me if I'm a robot.
There are more tv stations selections.
TV is not worth watching.
LPs are making a comeback.
Right to Life is Wrong for Many.
... and on... and on
Jay M Wong Aug 2016
Her gorgeous eyes but a mighty dam for none to know,
Shields her like curtains---the unpredictabilities of tomorrow,
But aye a foolish boy who've fallen deeply in romance,
Her love, her kiss: fairs thee, in inescapable trance,
Shall with grand sails flee beyond the ocean's horizon.

Doth she wears the gowns of unfair fairness in farewells,
For a love unblossomed must she leave far too soon,
Ath daggers thy chests at the thought of bygones like hell,
Incapable of sleep tonight 'neath the glimmering moon,      
For her beautiful eyes makes the midnight skies far too bright.

Must we always harbor love like shipments far too late,
In which had pale doves flown their Winter paths,
And shall by Summer's end, does her 'membrance await,
In uncounted miles shall separates what once un-hath,
And bids this glimmering leaf of love an unspoken adieu.

A gorgeous pearl to whom had but drifted out to sea,
Until one day doth it perhaps drifts back to me...
And like a child to whom with bright eyes wistfully wish,
For the magic of Winter and her beloved, angelic kiss.
Oh, now maybe--just maybe she feels the same...
     The wretched wrath of life and the unfair fairness in farewells.
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
✿⊰✲⊱✿
"She is. I think I make it worse with my constant
teasing." I chuckle. "But yes, I'm sure Paul's
'appreciation' for her is overwhelming.
He showers her too much with compliments."
We are lost in conversation until we heard Paul clapping,
gaining everyone's attention.
"Now that everyone has made their wishes, it's time
for us to present Donna and Dean with their
final gifts," he smiles. "Donna, Dean, would you be so
kind as to follow me up the hill? There's something
we all have to show you!"

✿⊰✲⊱✿
"Final gifts?" Dean is confused. "This party is enough,
as were all the shipments. What else do you have to give
us?"
Paul only chuckles and says nothing, beckoning them to
come to him. When Donna looks at everyone's faces,
she sees a sea of smiles, all knowing, all kind.
"Everyone, what's going on?" Donna asks.
"You'll find out soon enough!" Sue winks as Dean
takes Donna's hand and everyone walks down a pathway
that leads up to a high hill, where we can all see the horizon.

✿⊰✲⊱✿
Many of our distant kingdoms and the very calm seas.
One of the Luciuscemian guards holds a large green paper
lantern with the gold sun on Luciuscemi on it before
releasing it into the air.
"Paul, what's going on?" Dean asks his friend as
the paper lantern float high.
Donna gasps when she sees more small green
Luciuscemian lantern fly, and when her eyes look
to the horizon, the night skies come alive.
An abundance of paper lanterns are released into
the air, each of many colours.
Part 3! ^-^
Lyn ***
Raj Arumugam Oct 2012
Tom of Bungles Company places an order
and  Bond of On-the-Ball Company calls back
and he tells Tom:
“Hey, listen…You’ve ordered another two shipments
of the goods? Look, you haven’t paid for the previous 4 orders
and we can’t ship your new order till you pay for the previous four”


“Oh,” says Tom of Bungles Company
quick and snappy
*“Cancel the order then
We really can’t wait that long”
....another existing joke transformed into verse...might post a poem in a different genre tomorrow...
Matt May 2016
I do not have the land
Nor have I purchased
Enough seeds
To grow my own food

I am reliant
Upon the power grid

I have enough canned food
To survive a month or so

If I did have money
Maybe I would buy
A good amount of seeds

Buy years worth
Of food
That can be stored
For emergencies

I watch the videos
On YouTube
About what life
Is like

In Yemen
Saudi Arabia
Syria
And Iraq

Wow
What a mess
Sectarian violence

Houthis in Yemen
Opposing the government

FSA rebels in Syria
FIghting ISIS
And trying to overthrow Assad

The Iraqi government
Is having to rely upon
Shia military groups
To combat ISIS

These same Shia militant groups
Then engage in sectarian violence
Burning and attacking
Sunni villages

This may cause
Some Sunnis
To become sympathetic
Toward ISIS

This sectarian conflict
Has been around
Since the beginning
Of Islam

A Shiia protester
In Eastern Saudi Arabia
Protests against
The Sunni regime

Despite the wealth of the country
This Shiia minorities
Live in poverty

A few violent protesters
Spoiled their peaceful protests
Now the Sunni government
Considers them terrorists

"It is a war that never ends
Because it has no objectives
Israel's military occupation
Is not an obstruction of peace;
It is the replacement of peace
It is the institution of war
As a way of life"

This quote
Taken from an article
In Quartz magazine
Written by Oded Na'aman
On Sept. 21, 2015

And as I read
About the problems
In the Middle East

I can't help but think
That one day
Some day
In my life

Life will be closer to what
They experience
Then what we experience today

Class struggles
Armed migrants
Angry Jihadists

A Federal government
That uses the state highway system
For transport
Of military vehicles

The markets
Maybe they won't always get
The food shipments

Maybe there will just be rations
Terrorist attacks
Become more common place

U.N. Forces here to help
Maintain order

A strict curfew enforced
Drones flying over suburban neighborhoods

The dollar
Less and less relevant

As the SDR
Of the
International Monetary Fund
Becomes the reserve currency
Of the world

America's military forces
Involved in different
Conflicts throughout the world

In China, Afghanistan and Syria

North Korea brags and boasts
Of its capabilities
Firing a weapon
That takes down
Most of our power

It's okay
Really
We'll get it
Back up
At least some people
Will have partial power

Just keep your head down
And do
As the militant government says

Or you'll be hauled off to some camp

Yes, this is America

And this is the world

This primitive world

Humans have many problems
It's plain to see
Rachel Patterson Aug 2010
Lost, though the lake at my side
Could not be any more familiar
It's this vantage
New shipments of sunlight
Swim to me
Cars rocking along, they haven't seen
My screams
I'm lost, I'm lost
Someone bring me home
I'll never return to Germantown
About a walk I quite stupidly took today, 5 hours straight after not sleeping. Oh, my gleaming ideas.
Chad Roman Apr 21
You're an island
that housed beauty many shipments ago
For a drowning soul,
can only be saved by a rush of gold

Treasures of gold, lie hidden bestowed,
Beneath the crater of an old souls bowl

If my heart be the earth,
I'd look for peace
If my death sparked life,
I'd look to leave
And if life had meaning,
What could this be?

If my heart was round, I'd assume the earth fits this mold
Many moons ago it could dare lay low

Darkness fears the light
Like a kid in twilight 
Pondering on quiet times
Spent churning the street fights
If you search and search, eventually you'll get the answer
Matt May 2016
I'm Matt
And I do as I please

Thousands and thousands
Of hours

Human condition
Downloaded

20th century history
Downloaded

I'll tell you
What "I do"

I read books
And take notes
And learn about history
And other societies

I'll tell you
What you do

You watch the television
And water the lawn

That's what you do

I've had enough
No one tells me
To do anything

I have images

Of Mujahideen warriors
Driving out the Russians
To defend
Their way of life

And while others fight
To defend their way of life
I will fight to defend my way
Of living

It will be a war with words
I am a man of Tao

You do not tell me
To do anything

Whoever "you" are

You have a lot of nerve
Suggesting that I get
A part time job
On the weekends
To pay my bills

I'm a substitute teacher
That means working
Two days a week

I have no intention
No intention
No intention

Of ever teaching full time
Of ever teaching full time
Full time teachers don't make much
Anyhow

And they dedicate 50 hours a week
To what they do

I have too many interests
I like to read
And hike

There are too many
Beautiful things to see
Mother

As I drive
Drive around

Get away from the TV

This nation is in trouble

I will not work part time
Over the summer

You will pay my bills

If you want a war
Bring it on!

You can't picture a time
When our society has collapsed
When we are eating canned goods

When the shipments sent
To the markets are infrequent

I can, I know
I know
That our country is in
Some trouble

And no
I won't work
Part time
For a minimum wage

Because
I do As I Please

If that makes me selfish
So be it
John F McCullagh Aug 2014
Barrack’s on vacation, playing golf by the sea,
but life keeps interrupting and wasting greens fees
Iraq is in flames and the country may fall,
Barrack steps calmly up and addresses his ball.
While ISIS is murdering Kurds by the bunch
Barrack’s on vacation and ordering lunch.
Israel is in trouble as Hamas wages war.
Barrack limits arms shipments and tallies his score.
Ferguson, Missouri suffers racial unrest,
while Barrack is debating which driver is best.
James Foley is dead, his throat has been cut.
Our President speaks, and then he makes a nice putt.
My colleagues rebuke me. “Don’t beat a dead horse!”
The President’s great, he’s staying the course.
My favorite hole is not on this course.
Jade Elon Apr 2014
3 easy ways to die;
  1. Have a cigarette daily.
[ die  10  years  earlier ]
2.  Drink  alcohol  daily.
[ die  30  years  earlier ]
3. Fall in love with someone
who doesn't love you back.
[ y o u ' l l - d i e - e v e r y d a y ]
-------------------------------------------
TEN WAYS TO DEAL WITH A BROKEN HEART
1. pour yourself some scotch gulp it down and then cry about how you never loved that '*****' anyway or for the the ladies pour a glass of wine and cry about how you wasted the 'best' 4 years of your life with him
2. go shopping at stores you know they hated and pick up that plaid **** with the ugly collar
3. go shopping at stores you know they love (most likely a trendy boutique or something) on MWF because that's when they get new shipments in wearing your new, ugly, resentful, plaid shirt
4. go to that action movie you really wanted to see alone and get the biggest tub of popcorn you can because she would've hated it or rent the latest chick flick cocoon yourself on you couch (not because your bed that still smells like him) and eat all the ice-cream possible
5. creep through their Facebook twitter and instagram 3 weeks later see pictures of them out partying start posting old pictures of yourself before you met 4 years ago on that sunday
6. go walk your dog in the dog park have it **** on your shoes and remember the only reason you bought that ******* god was for the person you wasted your last 4 years with
7. take up smoking to deal with the stress and because 'someone' made you stop and you pray to god that they catch you doing it on the street one day and that they care.
8. run into them in the store one day hand in hand with someone who isn't nearly as good looking as you whose voice is annoying who doesn't glare at you with malice like thought they would Lie say your here to buy soup for your new significant other whose sick say it's a pretty recent relationship not 'Facebook official' yet Laugh Walk Away Look back at the pair and realize you've been replaced by Someone Better
9. go on a bar crawl wake up in a strangers bed regret your choices Do it again the next day
10. lay in bed with your new lover watch them sleep and have their face occasionally switch into that good for nothing who you wasted the last 2 years getting over brush your lovers hair out of their eyes reach over to the nightstand for paper and pen start to write love poetry about that good for nothing you're still in love with
I've never been in love but this is for those who are dealing with heart break
Kailey Jones Apr 2020
I am not in contact with my emotions
they're distant to me and far away
it's been centuries since we've met again
ever since the night I let them be torn away

I found out early that love holds you back
so I cut off all association
And now my faux emotions sparkle
without any questioning

Because everyone only sees my smile
And it's not a cry out for help
But instead, all that I sprout it for
Is to display my independent self

So there's no reason for me to have anyone
Because I couldn't hold commitment.
I can watch from afar easily
As I decimate the shipments
Because my heart yearns to travel to my mind
and I painstakingly won't let it
I did this one to myself and now I am secluded
I found it easy at first but now it only gets harder.
Arcassin B Aug 2017
by Arcassin Burnham


You wouldn't talk,
you wouldn't squeal,
now look at you,
you're sitting right in hell,
can't be the truth,
what this world brews,
it's nothing new,
rather be dead than probably sitting in jail,
the problem is,
we take in a lot,
buy from these fakers,
eat your food or it'll be stale,
we're eating twins , i'll tell you later on what all of that means,
by all means its guaranteed,
they thrive off greed,
live in deceit,
give the money, they destroy our peace.

trying to depopulate the earth,
ain't that a *******,
poisons meds and foods,
I'm going vegan , do you think i'm a sucker,
we don't know the products we put in our pots,
automatic disabilities from the flu shots,
this ain't a conspiracy cause its already been bought,
shipments already been stocked,
learning **** that is a lie in every school that we've been taught,
times is of the essence,
only just have seconds,
time to break the silence and debate the tension,
God is always listening,
ain't no time for wishing,
long as you just pay attention.

You wouldn't talk,
you wouldn't squeal,
now look at you,
you're sitting right in hell,
can't be the truth,
what this world brews,
it's nothing new,
rather be dead than probably sitting in jail.
©abpoetry2017
http://arcassin.blogspot.com/2017/08/flame-9.html
Matt May 2016
Everyone was
So happy
And secure

Here in America

And in a heartbeat
My how things have changed

Suburban households
Are on food rations

Shipments
To markets
Are infrequent

Hyper-Inflation

On top of that
The power grid
Keeps failing

After the EMP attack
They get it going
For a while
And then it fails

It was only a matter
Of time

And I knew it would happen

And we weren't prepared

Sure we had a few months
Of food prepared

But that was all

We should have had years ready

Like an old man
I move slow and steady

Never know
When my next meal will be
In America
The land of misery

And the drones keep
A constant eye out
To make sure

You stay at home

If you're out
Past 11

A UN ******
May put a bullet
In your dome

No longer
A citizen
With your rights

And with their
High tech gear
The military forces
Own the night

Life is fleeting
And it seems to me

That there may be a disaster coming
That will bring great misery

And everything
Is always so **-hum
My family sits arounds
And twiddles their thumbs

Don't have
All the necessary
Emergency gear

A troubling time
May be quite near...
Classy J Oct 2021
Be careful of what seems innocent.
Small acts of hate unseen by the eye,
Acts that can snowball into larger threats.
When tears could fill rivers high.
For their stories are suppressed.
As they defy,
The socially constructed narrative.
Can’t even say goodbye.
As that, like everything is prohibited.

Only a small demographic,
Can experience democracy.
After all it’s a demo,
That you got to pay to win!
Oh, the hypocrisy.

What makes a difference?
Apparently it’s pigment.
And worth is not equivalence.
When people are forced into shipments.
Is that what they mean by deliverance?
Wish this was all a figment.
For I in sane consciousness.
Cannot believe it.
That we live in a world,
That murders the innocent.
And justifies it as omnipotence.
And anyone who says otherwise,
Is a heretic.

Only a small demographic,
Can experience democracy.
After all it’s a demo,
That you got to pay to win!
Oh, the hypocrisy.

What is freedom?
Well it’s certainly ain’t free.
So, does that make it dumb?
To get wood, you must cut down the tree.
And to make a new land and a hefty sum.
You must cut down the native and Métis.
Seems fair to me. (Sarcasm)
So, than what is equality?
When the quality of one is tarnished,
For the sake of supremacy?
If we are equal?
Why are there still those in need?
If we have freedom,
Than why do we still bleed?
And the innocents in jail aren’t free?
Why are there still cries from those like George Floyd,
Screaming that they just can’t breathe?
Tell me!
If we have democracy,
Why are they still sterilizing people who look like me?
Why is there still so much divide and animosity?
And I like some many others,
Have to face discrimination on the basis of our biology?
Tell me! I really want to know!

Why is it?…

Only a small demographic,
Can experience democracy?
Maybe it is,
A demo after all.
That you got to pay to win!
Oh, the hypocrisy.
....Continuation from Part One

Do you know what it feels like to be me,
So many things the world is blind to only i can see
Cursed with injustice, misconceptions, conspiracies
Even now without the chains i still hope to be free
Even now that my voice can be heard it seems the audience could care less despite their oh so very subtle gestures signalling each other to ignore my high notes(pause#sigh#) EXSISTENCE!! You still anticipate and wait for me to react to
Subliminal provocation intended to give me discomfort.
The audacity!

(CLEAR my throat as if delivering an important message at a rally. Gabriella get inspiration from ****** or mlk to unleash the power of the words below)

I blame the system! i blame miseducation!
I blame fabricated history!
Let the *****, coily hair i possess release a mighty frequency,
Connect with the gods and master the ability of this forgotten ancestral contingency
Unfold the truth hidden in between the lines
Acknowledge the struggles and weaknesses of our predecessors; sold their souls and heritage for a mysterious briefcase fit for a coffin for bribery. Hidden and buried beneath the half hearted stamped agreements sticking out from the shimmering dimes.
and so begins the misery,
Banished from using our hands, conditioned to a life of being fed
Restrained from using our heads, conformity weaved us together like thread

Previously, dispersed,  Discarded and fowarded in shipments
so they could use us as a contaminated abomination the world should dread.
Obstructing all efforts to spread to our sentiments.
The darker the flesh then the deeper the roots rip tupac
What good are the roots when they wiped out all evidence leaving no proof

Done by Gabriella kundiona
(Afrikka)
WEB: An Illinois coal miner before he began to promote himself as a healer in the 20s, the colorful, dynamic Hoxsey mixed his medicine with flamboyant public statements that skillfully contrasted his populist heritage with the growing elitism and hauteur of the American medical profession at mid-twentieth century (Young, 1967). In common with many advocates of unconventional therapies, Hoxsey considered cancer a systemic disease, however localized its manifestations might appear to be. Hence his therapy aims to restore "physiological normalcy" to a disturbed metabolism throughout the body, with emphasis on purgation, to help carry away wastes from the tumors he believed his herbal mixtures caused to necrotize (Hoxsey, 1956, 44-48, 60).
The most controversial aspect of Hoxsey's method, in the eyes of orthodox medicine, was the dark brown liquid which he used to treat internal cancer. For many years Hoxsey refused to divulge the formula for this substance, generating a frenzy of vituperation in the pages of JAMA over a period of decades. He later gave several differing accounts of its origin (Young, 1967, 362). According to his autobiography (Hoxsey, 1956, 62-64), it was his great-grandfather, a horse ******* named John Hoxsey, who developed it at mid-nineteenth century, out of grasses and flowering wild plants which John took from the pasture where a favorite stallion, afflicted with a cancerous growth, grazed daily until the growth necrotized. According to Harry, John Hoxsey reasoned that the wild plants had caused the stallion's recovery. He therefore concocted a liquid out of "red clover and alfalfa, buckthorn and prickly ash" (and other plants which John could not identify), gathered from the area where the stallion had apparently cured himself.
By 1950, court decisions had sufficiently broadened the labelling requirements of the 1938 Food, Drug and Cosmetic Act to enable the FDA to act against Hoxsey's interstate shipments. In the ensuing litigation, Hoxsey revealed the composition of his long-secret preparation. He explained that, depending on the type and stage of cancer, and the individual patient's condition, he added to a basic solution of cascara (Rhamnus purshiana) and potassium iodide one or more of the following plant substances: poke root (Phytolacca americana); burdock root (Arctium lappa); barberry or berberis root (Berberis vulgaris); buckthorn bark (Rhamnus frangula); Stillingia root (Stillingia sylvatica); and prickly ash bark (Zanthoxylum americanum) (Young, 1967, 375; Hoxsey, 1956, 45-46; JAMA, 1951, 252; JAMA, 1954, 667; Farnsworth, 1988).
In addition to an extensive literature attesting the folk use of Hoxsey's herbal ingredients in the treatment of cancer (Hartwell, 1967 and 1971), the orthodox medical literature at that time contained at least one suggestive article about one of them, based on empirical observation by a regular, orthodox practitioner. In 1896, in the Medical and Surgical Reporter (Philadelphia), a surgeon described the action of poke root as retarding the growth of epitheliomas and increasing the patient's survival time, if it was given before ulceration became extensive (Millard, 1896, 421). Despite bibliographic tools that make it easy to search the medical literature back through the 19th century and beyond, this article had apparently escaped the attention of the AMA, the FDA, and the NCI.

The Saga of Harry Hoxsey
https://youtu.be/B9CvND_UykQ

----------------------------------


Amygdalin is a natural anti-cancer agent : PMID: 31958042

IN BRIEF Concerning Cancer: 1. Take a pregnancy test just after waking up. For men a positive result means either cancer or a false positive. Take another test the next day. If a man gets 3 positive results then likely he has cancer somewhere. For women a positive result means (if she's able to become pregnant) she's pregnant or she has cancer, or she's pregnant and she has cancer, or a false positive (the test result is wrong). 2. Several positive pregnancy test results = cancer. What next? STOP eating red meat, sugar, corn syrup. STOP drinking *****. STOP (or at least cut back on) smoking. 3. Eat fresh pineapple & papaya. Take vitamin B17 (at least 1 gram daily) and wheat grass and/or barley grass liquid or capsules (they're rich in vitamin B17), on a full stomach daily (you can't overdose on them ~ they're not poisonous). Take a zinc supplement. Take pancreatic enzymes. REVIEW: TAKE pregnancy tests to detect cancer. TAKE vitamin B17 (and as many of the listed vitamins as you can, especially zinc). Eat fresh pineapple & papaya. STOP eating red meat & cane sugar. It will take several weeks on B17 therapy to turn out negative pregnancy test results. The tumor WILL NOT shrink much even after the cancer is gone because only 10% of the tumor was cancer. The tumor MAY swell temporarily as the vitamin B17 kills malignant cells. NOTE: Vitamin B17 therapy WILL NOT destroy the tumor! Vitamin B17 therapy will destroy the malignant cells (cancerous cells) of the tumor and within the tumor. Only 5% to 10% of the cells comprising a tumor are cancerous cells. In time the tumorous growth will be absorbed, in whole or in part. Unless the tumor is cosmetically displeasing, impinging nerves or blood vessels or hampering normal ****** function then let it be.

The life expectancy for American medical doctors is 58 years.
The life expectancy for Haitian voodoo witch doctors is 62.7 years.

WEB: Dr. Dean Burk (March 21, 1904 – October 6, 1988), head of the cytochemistry section of the National Cancer Institute has reported that in a series of tests on animal tissue, the B17 had no effect, but released so much cyanide and benzaldehyde when it came in contact with cancer cells that not one of them could survive. He said, “When we add Laetrile to a cancer culture under the microscope, we see the cancer cells dying off like flies.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From the Web : In 1972, Dr. Dale Danner, a podiatrist from Santa Paula, Ca., developed a pain in the right leg and a severe cough. X-rays revealed carcinoma of both lungs and what appeared to be massive secondary tumors in the leg. The cancer was inoperable and resistant to radio therapy. The prognosis was: incurable and fatal. At the insistence of his mother, Dr. Danner agreed to try Laetrile, although he had no faith in its effectiveness. Primarily, just to please her, he obtained a large supply in Mexico. But he was convinced from what he had read in medical journals that it was nothing but quackery and a fraud. "Perhaps it was even dangerous," he thought, for he noticed from the literature that it contained cyanide. Within a few weeks the pain and the coughing had progressed to the point where no amount of medication could hold it back. Forced to crawl on his hands and knees, and unable to sleep for three days and nights, he became despondent and desperate. Groggy from the lack of sleep, from the drugs, and from the pain, finally he turned to his supply of Laetrile. Giving himself one more massive dose of medication, hoping to bring on sleep, he proceeded to administer the Laetrile into an artery. Before losing consciousness, Dr. Danner had succeeded in taking at least an entire ten-day supply -- and possibly as high as a twenty day supply -- all at once. When he awoke thirty six hours later, much to his amazement, not only was he still alive, but also the cough and pain were greatly reduced. His appetite had returned, and he was feeling better than he had in months. Reluctantly he had to admit that Laetrile was working. So he obtained an additional supply and began routine treatment with smaller doses. Three months later he was back at work.
Watch: G. Edward Griffin's "World Without Cancer." https://youtu.be/tPADSv3XAv0
sparkjams Mar 2019
Tall grass and famous landslide in Mississippi
it told me yesterday about your coming

architects from celibacy and bent horns from across the nations
they sang to me yesterday about your arrival

destroy the elite and build an underwater glass house with pharmaceutical shipments
negate the metal rust and shave it right off with lawnmower intact
grab onto musical instruments with reddening knuckles and hunting socks
don't wear out your hunting socks
before it's over
don't wear out your hunting socks

I do think it's good
I do repeat myself when under stress
I do watch for camcorders filming my last kitchen
I do enjoy parkour!
now one of them's a lie

now is a lie

bird watching paint drying reminiscent of the particular fetish for gallantry
acts of strange science fiction cause processes to get a little finicky and hardly noticeable
remember that time in college when?
Easily born from a roasting turkey
it's gonna be terrifying and unrecognizable by the time

question your stress and cheap luck, darlings!
Get addicted to anxiety and rotting perfume, schoolboys!
Odorous indulgence never occurs to frankincense
who is the turkey roaster himself in the flesh

five or six minutes will pass before some idea other than the following dawns on you
you and the reader here are not pawns
like chess, man, like chess
you got it, goat!

Best yet
hardly a challenge
do tell
as the crowd demands
Cyclone Dec 2019
I sketch life with breath and left death on it's own, commitment to shipments I witnessed stiffness as a stone, I gifted the chrome, condoned zones as my home, self crowned urban legend, these seven days are like drones, blow up in cases, the daily basis what you make it, opportunity given this living cries when you fake it, only hit brakes when the feds tread what you do, cold hard brew, these dues clue what you chew.
My cousins are dead because of you Norman Cousins swearer to masonic blood oaths. Cousin Cousine gave hope to my cousins & me & to Ted Danson, Ned Manson, Fred Janssen & Jed Hanson. Ship now Stanley ** or forever hold your shipments for the sudden crapping-out of nice people is what I'm gambling on. Marilyn Monroe is unforgettable especially since corporators never relent in keeping her name & likeness before the public. By the 7th day of an electrical black-out feminism will be no more as the natural order of things will be restored. The cancer-afflicted girls who make the news are suffering from radiation sickness. Radiation sickness cures nothing. Radiation sickness denigrates the immune system. Next stop: doughnut shop for APPLAUSE & APPLE SAUCE, a simple sample of Pederson's shrimp in shambles & shims in sandals with a dosage o' ol': allopathism, regionalism, nationalism, emotionalism, rationalism, pyorrhea, diarrhea, gonorrhea, Cary Grant, Gary Crant, Crary Gant, Grary Cant, Carry Gant, Carr Ganty, Garr Canty, Granty Car, Ganty Carr, Garnt Cary, Carnt Gary, Carnty Gar, Garnty Car, Arnty Garc, Arnty Grac, Ranty Garc & the man who stands above others: Ranty Grac. Help me dead Dave Dudley to rave studly then pave mud free with Neil Diamond to **** Neil Simon worshiper of: Satan's hollyhock tree Hollywood; **** Dolly's Dollywood; Tamil's Kolly-wood; Bomay's Bollywood & fair airplay for the not-so-fair *******' Nollywood where whitey ain't welcomed even as a token.
   Malignant cells are electrostatically-charged negative as is the immune system. Like-charges repel one another making it impossible for the immune system to mount a direct assault on malignant structures so, instead, benignant cells build a tumorous mass to contain the clutch of cancerous cells. If the immune system could attack cancer, mammalian pregnancy (gestation to term) wouldn't be possible as pre-embryonic cells (which are virtually indistinguishable from malignant cells) would be defined by the immune system as invasive & condemned to destruction & absorption.
   It's minimum-wage day in Albania! Grab a strange Albanian woman's *** to get the fun started and the ball rolling!

— The End —