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Scot Powers Mar 2015
As I struggle for control
the voices  start to grab a hold
daily forcing me to be
something that I just can't be

a violent act, compassionless
left  dying on the street
lying in a pool of blood
ripe for news TV

talking heads relay the tale
ramp up fear  increasing sales
all the while those at the top
pray to god, that it won't stop

For profits are  the result
of their plan to wipe us out
weaken the middle everyday
till only serfs remain to pay.
  Mar 2015 Scot Powers
r
i've had wild turkey-
kinda gamey
but it'll do in a rush

i've had jim beam, too
along with a little kush

but- jack daniels kicked my ***
and knocked me on my ****


this thanksgiving
i'm going with plain old turkey
cuz i'm smarter and braver

if god will only grant me the serenity.

11/27/14
:)  Happy Thanksgiving,  y'all.
  Feb 2015 Scot Powers
st64
it saws old rain in my skull
and your thoughts take a tour; wet and heavy
and quietly, the dirt shifts in the metal tracts

you break me every single time
my internal spilling is entangled
hopelessly


my summer-psyche enmeshed in your season
and forever swallows a few more ribs
don't wake the children of the light
for their feathers will burn beneath my nails

a storm hangs patiently on the wall
like a delighted painting made from frantic crystals
and I skitter from your towering moods
yet the moon dances in and out of every calm abyss

the lid is no more vacant than my veins cursed with
your silence
like algae, I slip on

my terror squeaks like a vehicle possessed
cheeks go ashen in my gay smiles
you will blush, in secret at what I will do
to you

sails lift on garlicky air in a port where ships don't wait
and my tongue loosens another melody only doubt hears
I'm completely in your hands
and willing for that crush

my acts for coins fall meaningless in embedded frustration
       don't come to the table, then
       keep the shades drawn
only the sense of phantoms
will be hanging in my smoke
intoxicating me to radiance
racing through to the ripples in your day

I'll keep lancing pebbles across the ocean's surface
they will never really reach the riverbed
frosty comes in agonising diamonds
a feast of distress sitting urgently
a shudder flutters through me, imperceptible

reduction of sweetness
a date with the cherubs from a netherworld
my nose feels the snows you carry
and I know you constrict still
my language falters and thinking shatters
and although slumped and vulnerable, it flourishes.
:)
America, when I was little, you told me we were Free.
I didn’t know you meant that I could choose to drink ******* in a Can versus Sodium Citrate and Sugar.
I didn’t know you meant I could practice any Religion as long as it was Traditional and nothing New.
I didn't know the Second Amendment would later be a Symbol of Futility.
I didn’t know Thanksgiving was just a celebration of Slaughter and an overdose of Food.
I didn't know that if I was ever briefly Depressed or Confused, you would Prescribe me some Pill worth Millions.

When I was little, I didn’t notice the rapid Rise of Cigarettes and Alcohol taking over the Century before Me.
I didn’t notice the number of people watching the News.
I didn’t notice the thousands of people who were Hungry, while we stuffed our Faces Each Day.
I didn’t notice I was a part of these Things.

When I was little, I didn’t see all of the unneeded destruction.
I didn’t see a reason for War over Power, Land, or Money.
I didn’t see what the Big Fuss was about Politics.
I didn’t see any reason To Live, other than to be Happy and make others Happy.
I didn’t see the Bad in People, like I do Today.

America, when I was little, I knew Everything, and Now I know Nothing.
I was innocent and Now I am Corrupted.
When I was little, my biggest Crime was picking my nose in Public.
I also may have stolen Candy from the Teacher, who Never got Paid Enough.

When I was little, I Painted and I Loved. I played with Animals and read all kinds of Books. Those Stories Taught Me Things.
They taught Me about You, America, and Everything that You’re Not.
They taught me that You don’t actually Care about Me, or my Mom or Dad, or my Brother, and definitely not my Cat.
They taught me not to Trust anyone and to Believe in my Instincts and Myself.
They taught me that you Worship false Idols and don’t Live by what you Speak.
They even taught me that there Is a better way, but America doesn’t Want to Change.

Today, I know what America really Is. I know that Everything is Subjective and Nothing is Anyone’s Fault. I also know that even though you Hate us, America, We still Love you, because
You are our Home.
I know We can Change, but I also Know it will take Time.
The Books also taught me that Time is Irrelevant and everything Happens for a Reason,
So even though I know how Cruel you are, America… I Know it will be Okay. And I know you don’t mean Any Harm. It is just Who you Are.

America, when I was Little,
You told Me, I could be Anything I wanted,
And that is exactly What I am Doing Now,
Despite your Laws and your Legions. I Will Find a Way to make Change, One Person at a Time, Starting with Me.
America, if you weren’t so Hostile, I’d have no Work to do, and no Light to Share, so Thank You, America.
Call me Crazy, But I Love You.
Scot Powers Feb 2015
Quietly she entered
and crept across the floor
knowing all too well
the pleasure that would flow

Slowly she approached the bed
there laid a supine form
her heart began to skip a beat
as she undid her robe

Revealing herself  to the night
and to the lying form
gently she began to kiss his neck
her skin was getting warm

Slowly she descended
her tongue leading the way
he wrapped his arms around her
in his loving way

gripping and pulling him
closer to her mouth
her hot breath sent quivers
as she licked the tender shaft

She took him in her mouth
and began to gently ****
he rubbed her moist tightness
and probed her with his tongue

Then they rolled over
still tenderly embraced
and worked together thrusting
to reach a higher place

She dragged her nails across his back
the moans began to rise
sensations racing forward
searching each others eyes

Releasing waves of pleasure
reaching out at the same time
their pleasured moans a symphony
entangled and divine
Scot Powers Feb 2015
The cold grey dawn
was setting in
shattered bodies
moaning wind
all that remained
were the cries
orphaned children
asking why
widowed mothers
take to the streets
must now provide
for families needs
while those who sit
in offices high
turn their back
on those who died
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