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Malia 2d
I’ve already done my ten-thousand hours
Under the light of the moon and the sun.
”Self-made” contains its own divine power
In the minds of the Americana.

My bootstraps, I’ve pulled
Until they tore off.
I admit, I’ve been fooled
In this Land of the Lost.

And still yet they shout, at Forefather’s behest:
“Give it your all! And then give me the rest!”
The American dream
had a tough childhood
and is developing symptoms
of a sinkhole personality

I take back everything
I said about the Panama Canal
there's nothing wrong
about being artificial
so long as it brings others together

If we bring it down to eye level
Mr. Paranoia feels outnumbered
the fruits of his labor
are all store bought

There are no more
drive-in movies within
walking distance
'cause Cinderella's dead
says the cult leader
Man Mar 6
I walk alone
For the sake of everyone I love and know
For the blush of unspoiled fruit
So we can walk out into the sun
Freemen and not slaves
So we can get out from under the thumb
Of oppressors who seek to keep us down,
For the Americas
My Americans
For her siblings, allies of dear note to
Fair Lady Columbia
For all that share in the rays of the cosmos
My friends, nature is so beautiful
And once was so full, in this world
Of all the things gone extinct
It is less they do not control
Remember, you too are an animal
Our hands are tied, and most don't know
Man Mar 5
The dream revolt of desk jockeys
Of disc spinning, pipe hitting Americans;
A rich man's insurrection.
Not something I'll be part of;
Something I'll watch
As they step on our flag,
Something to stir real action.
Try it, I,  like the rest of us,
Will watch the skin drip from you
As tar does too, and feathers adorn.
You can call that macaroni
When you try to be oppressive
With the law or religion
Or worse yet, the dissolution
Of the two being different.
When they steal from you now,
It will be in the name of God.
Love God, hate religion
Anais Vionet Jan 22
Sometimes after Lisa and I do our early-morning 4 mile run (we treadmill in the basement fitness center if it’s under 43 degrees), I come back and lie on my bed, for just for a moment. This morning it was just as the sun broke over the horizon and a pink light crawled across my ceiling, highlighting every imperfection, like craters and mountains on some distant, barren planet. My Apple watch went chikle-inkle-lnkle. Ok, Time to start the day.


Leong got a new ‘Girls Life’ magazine, those always seem packed with the latest scientific info.
“Studies suggest that you and your deepest friends may share the same blood types!” Leong read aloud.
“I’m O-negative,” she announced, “What blood type are you?” She asked me.
“Red,” I revealed (I am, after all, pre-med).
“DElicious reddd,” Lisa updogged in a Bela Lugosi vampire voice.

“Americans are never serious,” Leong whinged, her voice rising and falling on the last syllables.
“That’s what makes us what we are today,” Lisa asserted, “a slowly, steadily, declining superpower.”
“We could join the military after Yale,” I suggested helpfully, “I bet they’d make us officers.”
“Oh sure, I heard the army’s making men out women these days,” Lisa agreed.
“Sounds messy,” I said, wincing.”
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Whinge: “to complain fretfully."
Jeremy Betts Aug 2020

If it were up to me I'd change the entire seen, at this point that's gotta be first thing
I'm taking firing every living, breathing being and put a lien on the Whitehouse till we fix this thing
People are having a difficult time coping and it's only getting worse cause we're allowing this perverse nonsense to keep going
It's a curse, can't be believing the sycophant bigots in church nor office, weaving a dishonest promise that everything will be okay but never delivering
No solution "Just keep doin' what you're doin', this is America and we are American so even when we're losin' we win"
How can more than half the population believe in blatantly false information? Being that blind takes dedication
But this isn't a debate on creation, it ain't an argument about what's better; Xbox or PlayStation
We need to fashion a constraint, one custom fit for the reality of the situation
Our innate ability to shoot ourselves in the foot has proven, in real time, just how broken we are as a nation

If it were up to me I'd forcefully remove the blinders and lift the vale so all y'all can see clearly
Get face to face and look closely at the man behind the curtain, the one who's certainly hurtin' every American family
We've gotta collectively grow a pair cause this turning away haphazardly from real issues is turning out badly
It's like we're trying to escape on a stationary bike hoping a simulated digital effort will magically be enough ultimately
But it's plane to see we don't do enough as a society, continually bringing trouble our way, inviting it to stay knowing that any day it could turn ugly
Smugly we stand proudly next to our failures yelling alternative facts loudly to drown out the reality
And said reality has been a slow burn, catching up gradually as to not alarm you with the coming tragedy
Mercy is an option that's been taken off the table permanently, tough love is the new weaponry, I mean strategy, excuse me

Like I said, if it were up to me there'd be no mercy
The time for coddling is over, if you're not part of the solution you get sent out to pasture and not instantly because technically it'd actually be much faster
No more stumbling over blunder after blunder, it's no wonder we can't get from under this absolute corrupt power
The hour is late and the gate to a better future is chained shut but if you wait I'll locate a detour
There will indeed be fewer unlocked doors but we just need one to advance further
So whether you're ready or not it's time to move the plot along, our end game can not be forgot
We've got a long way to go, it's obvious that collectively we're not as progressive as we once thought
After draining the swamp we have got to get the skeletons out the closet to slow the dry rot
It's a hot topic because it doesn't line up with half the public but once the plan is in place you'll love it and be thanking me a lot

To bad it's not up to me though cause it's honestly getting pretty scary down this ominous hallway walkway
I don't see this ending in a way that doesn't just lead us further astray
And allow for the further decay of our democracy and quite possibly bring forth an inevitable Doomsday
The clock ticks life and hope away, that's not to say we're running out but it's starting to look that way
This isn't something I say for shock value, it's said to allow you insight into their strategy
This great big life conspiracy theory is crazy enough, I don't need to exaggerate any, just look at any headline from today
What do you see? Can you even put it all into words?
What does it mean? Could you tell the difference between 'em if I removed their party placards?
One insignificant step forwards for man, but for mankind it's always a giant leap backwards, heading head first towards collapse and neither direction cares knowing they are the 1% that'll be just fine afterwards
They are born con artists and actors, everyday nominating new content to put towards winning best lie at the Oscars
You might not think so but I know We The People are changing to us and them others, I just hope the non believers notice before the herds of buzzards
It is really, truly unfortunate that it's not up to me...

Bruce Adams Jul 2019
on ruby jacobs walk, a
small girl
asked us for money for ice cream.

she eyed our cones
                                yours, lemon
                                mine, strawberry
with a child’s hunger
glinting and opportunistic
as she held out her palm for coins.

i was not yet accustomed to the shapes and sizes,
to a dime being smaller than a nickel,
and in any case wanted to preserve them for souvenirs
so we shook our heads and walked away.

a year later, writing this poem,
i learned that ruby jacobs was a local restauranteur
who, as a boy,
illegally sold ice creams
for a nickel on the boardwalk.
                                                a nickel is the larger coin
                                                the size of a ten pence piece.
                                                i know that now.

the wide atlantic rose from a sloping manicured lawn
                                like everything here,
                                                           ­     the airborne flag
                                                            ­    above a wide pavilion
                                                        ­        a fanatic wedding cake topper
                                                          ­      against the blood-blue sky.

        i slipped
out of my shoes and let
the white sand burn my feet,
and jaggedly fill the spaces between my toes.

the atlantic held open its arms
though we weren’t, as we imagined,
                looking east
                looking home
but south to new jersey, across the bay.

the gnarled boardwalk was a
song of the twentieth century
        a roll-call of mass-market capitalism
        here in the city that didn’t invent the concept
        but certainly perfected it:
                                                hot dogs
         ­                       ice creams (we’ve covered that)
                        fridge magnets
                baseball caps
        i bought an espresso cup with a picture of the president
and the caption:
i stopped to take a photograph
of a space-age building from the fifties
which turned out to be
                                        a public toilet.

from the sunbaked d train,
brooklyn spread out beneath us
the houses garnished with flags,
then the city coughed us up on seventh avenue
and night fell five hours early.
Robert Ippaso Aug 2023
How did we get to where we are,
America - the one undimming shining star,
A land of freedom, of unbounded pride
Where no one needed run and hide
For their religion or mere thought,
Democracy - the very heart of what was taught.

Now the Media drums a beat
That too many rush to heed,
Politicians seem at war
Spewing discord to their core,
Division their concocted art
Wrenching the rest of us apart.

Pressure groups with voices loud
Control the stage as if endowed,
We the masses listen stunned
Outmaneuvered and outgunned,
All too late we see the light
As our cities fall to blight.

Police leaving by the score,
Inner cities full of gore,
Death and Drugs partners in crime
The serial killers of our time,
Those we elect wringing their hands
Caving in to shrill demands.

Social media runs amok
Trampling discourse in it's muck,
Faceless voices spewing hate
Leaving victims to their fate,
Pervading every corner of our life
Their tool of choice inciting strife.

Is it too late may we well ask
To tear apart this vile death mask,
Restoring that for which our father's fought
A way of life worked for and not bought,
The very fruit of land well sown
The purest form of liberty our world has ever known.
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