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Burrichson
28/England I write when the spirit moves me, you've got to move when the spirit says move.
Don’t Defund the police and don’t say all capitalism has got to go Lets be honest, your research is little and there’s lots you don’t know Capitalism, ain’t here, its Neo-Liberalism’s the name of your fear BUT THE BOTTOM LINE IS, THE SYSTEM IS YOUR PEER. Okay so the voting system is kind of whack But where’s your money gone to and who do you back? Whenever there’s a bandwagon you might jump on board When you hear “Anti-Racist”, you applaud But on Black Friday you open doors, You leap right into the Capital Maws Here’s the truth, here’s the fact You little post, it won’t do jack When every other step you take is on the beaten track Being, its more than a Scene, and that’s there’s crack WAIT THOUGH! DON’T JUST RUN! HAVE YOU NEVER HEARD OF DAEDALUS AND HIS SON? Jheeze, one Act an Actor makes not If you’re a quintessential ‘Alternative’, you’re still a robot You’ve an arrogance of rightness, that’s what you’ve got The saddest thing is, so does your Despot So maybe there’s a chance your desktop’s got more than social functions Maybe humility with clarity would yield a better unction Than screaming for the death of those with a truncheon Yes they do bad, but they also do good, Many aren’t here, when for their children, they should They’re at work and in stress, or the in grace of Grim’s hood When the **** hits the fan they run towards it, I ask if you would? The point is to remember the good, and from this then grow Not to dismember what’s built, and from bliss go below
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Jun 3, 2020
Jun 3, 2020 at 10:09 AM UTC
The Police
Don’t Defund the police and don’t say all capitalism has got to go Lets be honest, your research is little and there’s lots you don’t know Capitalism, ain’t here, its Neo-Liberalism’s the name of your fear BUT THE BOTTOM LINE IS, THE SYSTEM IS YOUR PEER. Okay so the voting system is kind of whack But where’s your money gone to and who do you back? Whenever there’s a bandwagon you might jump on board When you hear “Anti-Racist”, you applaud But on Black Friday you open doors, You leap right into the Capital Maws Here’s the truth, here’s the fact You little post, it won’t do jack When every other step you take is on the beaten track Being, its more than a Scene, and that’s there’s crack WAIT THOUGH! DON’T JUST RUN! HAVE YOU NEVER HEARD OF DAEDALUS AND HIS SON? Jheeze, one Act an Actor makes not If you’re a quintessential ‘Alternative’, you’re still a robot You’ve an arrogance of rightness, that’s what you’ve got The saddest thing is, so does your Despot So maybe there’s a chance your desktop’s got more than social functions Maybe humility with clarity would yield a better unction Than screaming for the death of those with a truncheon Yes they do bad, but they also do good, Many aren’t here, when for their children, they should They’re at work and in stress, or the in grace of Grim’s hood When the **** hits the fan they run towards it, I ask if you would? The point is to remember the good, and from this then grow Not to dismember what’s built, and from bliss go below
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29
I grew, I was planted in mire but I grew. I shared my shoots with reaping roots, and still. I grew. Wind that tore came. Hail that burned rained. But I endured. Pressure came, I stood. Pressure came, I bent. Pressure came, I broke. In ash I grew Pink. I cried. You came. You looked not away. You stayed. You gave me Life Again.
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Mar 3, 2020
Mar 3, 2020 at 10:49 AM UTC
Babe in Ashes
ME: Access your root There lies your pain If you could just clean This chakra This stain Then this time’d be different. ME: Then why, why, why? Is it the same? ME: Maybe that’s all we’re allotted, intermittent relief, that’s slotted twixt rain. ME: Nah bun all dat nonsense, this time I’ll switch grain. This time will be different. This time…
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Feb 17, 2020
Feb 17, 2020 at 10:52 AM UTC
ME, ME, ME... and ME
At first I thought I was born to succeed, Which was good and great because I lack luster for greed To give and to cherish was largely my creed, Life blooms everywhere so why covet its seed? For shame and for glory, my truth was a story. A story, not a fable, one with use in its cradle No. Not my truth, my feeble fiction. That to give and to gain was no contradiction. With strong head and strong body I’ve wasted my days, To think beau intention wouldn’t lead me astray. You see I’ve done all I could in the space of this mind, To unravel the hope to create world’s in kind. Eureka! I had it, for one second’s perception, A prospect in favour of catastrophic direction. Though its gone I still taste it, like the vacuum in glass, My pious mis-deception that my chance has not passed.
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Feb 17, 2020
Feb 17, 2020 at 10:30 AM UTC
100 miles behind the starting line
I must have done something messed up in some past life Because i don't know about this. I know I ain't any moral saint, but need i be this far from bliss? Jheeze the worst part is it ain't that bad, or at least it's not so diff. There's a million million other ones trucking on this with this Sisyphus myth. Life is a puppeteers stage, so why you shocked at all the rigging? Don't wanna sell your soul or your brothers? Here's a credit ***** get digging. To heck with it and to heck with you, if a loans my loam I'll use it to sow anew. A bean stalk for me then some more for youse, there's giants need slaying so's some slaying lets do.
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Jan 23, 2020
Jan 23, 2020 at 5:07 AM UTC
Working Class Poor
I feel like an old man, trapped in a young man's body. One side screams to end this toil, while the other awaits these lithe muscles a'turn groggy. It's strange. And conflicting. To be youth and feel wise, must scream contradiction. Tho it's my unquestionable foolishness that i think i call wisdom. For i've chosen a fight what needs constant conviction. And more. I must tell my eyes not to see, that each leap and each step is too great for me. Yes, i made the last, but the next one's still greater. Not one step, not one. Was made for "the maker. " Nor mine, that one half. My 'father', fled from sight. Far from divine. Ironic his job role, to be of system design. For, at brass tacks, thats all i am too. I look at what's broken, and think how to renew. Compost is just waste, so i look to the rest, and i know insufferable can create that what's blessed. A part of the whole. That's all we can be. One some level i strive for yee and for me. But that level is high, its where the cloud reaches. Where the order of chaos comes from butterfly speeches. On this level, My Plane, the stage where i act. Its for those that i Love, for them alone do i act.
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Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 4:45 PM UTC
Candle in the Wind
I guess I'll have to make it up. A bird came to me, she did not chirp And he did not whisper. The wings sheathed on its back Were in no disrepair. Was it blue? How hard to tell, for its Skin and coat were of glass, but finer. This bird a flower. So far from bloom. So frail i'll keep it, to nurse in Gloom. Not all birds need sun, nor all flowers flight. But this of mine will soon have both, for mine must wrest day from night.
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Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 5:58 PM UTC
No.6
I'm so tired i can't sleep. Everything moves in units per minute. From day-dawn to non-stop, then repeat. Well, i guess there's the quiet moments. The walks to and fro. The beauty of the crack of dawn starts is the Sun's maw, golden, yawning, lo. But the moon comes with no respite, busy hands and nimble fingers makes for empty bellies, and lets face it. Packs of kingers. I don't get it. Where's the restoration? Wall. Now my skin itches. Im truth I'd sleep sooner if my slumber's journey left me in, not needing stitches. Always they  come. Sometimes i fight, tho many i run. What good's a fist against a smoking gun?
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Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 5:44 PM UTC
Now my skin itches
I watched. I listened. I took your hand when survival reacted. Not anything as simple as the frail bodies we contort. Your cry was in the wind, it was a thing from your being. I tried. Too hard. I thought. Too much. My truth was Euclid, verity's soul it seems fracted. Enough though it seemed. A while, we dreamed. Enough. Now i wake to sleep. My pen gainst my page shan't paint love this deep.
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Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 6:15 PM UTC
Lemon Bush
Keep on moving The road never ends. There's no losing. You're always ahead, but Always behind The point of the curve That there's no point proving. So logic has limits Yet I've passed mine. Breath. Get back up. Just this once, last, more time.. If i had it I'd Spend it. Every second on nothing.
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Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 5:57 PM UTC
Dont Stop.