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Mark Oct 6
You can have it all, if you don't need nothing
Keep the good vibes rolling, if it helps with one's loving
It's like a whole EDM festival, coming from your mouth
Not like those turntable dudes, down in the deep south
I thought DJs had had their freestyle spinning last days
Like Catholic church priests and their unholy ******* ways

Licking soda-pops over a long hot summer holiday
Kissing a girl named, Katy Perry, the very next day
Licking it all up, before she shows her b-SiDE
Then screams to three, to come on back inside
Like snatching the America's Cup, with Ben Lexcen’s winning keel
While somewhere amongst the hills of Hollywood’s La La Land
Whole plates of food, just going to waste, inside, never never,  friggin Disneyland
While a starving homie, maybe, just ate his very last meal

They say, ‘I'm the new messiah’.Thanks, but, I don't even try
Thanks to so few, excluding the ones, who waved me on by
I'm sort of creating, a brand new hype and buzz
Full of pure clarity, with a dash of man-made fuzz
When the beat stops, from its fast-talking pace
We all like to flop and drop that ******* bass

Licking soda-pops over a long hot summer holiday
Kissing a girl named, Katy Perry, the very next day
Licking it all up, before she shows her b-SiDE
Then screams to three, to come on back inside
Like snatching the America's Cup, with Ben Lexcen’s winning keel
While somewhere amongst the hills of Hollywood’s La La Land
Whole plates of food, just going to waste, inside never never, friggin Disneyland
While a starving homie, maybe, just ate his very last meal

A shout out, to all my southern conquistadors and homeward bound homie’s
Ignore all the Los Angeles doomsayers and Hollywood snapchat phoney's
Elevator doors always be jammin' and then coming to a closure
We all like a moment, of shy mouth miming, with very little exposure
From a worldwide hit or an Aussie Whispering Jack golden classic
From the sound of a crackling frisbee, made from nothing,
but pure black plastic

Licking soda-pops over a long hot summer holiday
Kissing a girl named, Katy Perry, the very next day
Licking it all up, before she shows her b-SiDE
Then screams to three, to come on back inside
Like snatching the America's Cup, with Ben Lexcen’s winning keel
While somewhere amongst the hills of Hollywood’s La La Land
Whole plates of food, just going to waste, inside, never never, friggin Disneyland
While a starving homie, maybe, just ate his very last meal.
Jonathan Moya Sep 23
Rapid City wears its patriotism like a shroud.
Corner streets are populated with less than
life-size statues of past presidents
squinting at the distant Black Hills
where the grandeur of Mt. Rushmore
casually crumbles their bronze dreams.

Wax settlers, loggers and gold miners
stake claims with souvenir hunters
touring a mine, panning for fool’s gold.

In nearby Custer, 75 breaths  from Wounded Knee,
shops hawk Chief Joseph, Sitting Bull, Geronimo t-shirts
proclaiming them “ The Original Founding Fathers.”
Mixed in are those in star-spangled letters and fireworks
proudly streaming “Welcome to America. Now Speak English.”

Rushmore was dynamited from a cliff
by a creator who spent the rest of his life
erecting grand Confederate gestures
out of ****** Georgia quartz monzonite—
finished and opened 100 years to the day
after Abraham Lincoln’s assassination.  

Thirty minutes from Rushmore, existing in its shadow
on private land filled with dusty trails,
unfinished after seventy years,
probably still unfinished after twenty  more,
facing away from these great stone faces,
emerging from the side of great Thunderhead Mountain,

on an ivory stead with a mane of flowing river and wind,
exists the Oglala Lakota warrior Tasunke Witko
the worm of Crazy Horse the Old and Rattling Blanket Woman,
sibling of Little Hawk and Laughing One, memory of the spirit of
Black Buffalo and White Cow who walked with an Iron Cane,
all enclosed with him in this massive breath of white stone.

The history of this great Indian space stretches the land,
four times higher than the Statue of Liberty,
extending beyond the warrior frown, the pointing left arm.
The horse’s ear alone is the size of a rusty  reservation bus.
When finished it will be the largest sculpture in history,
bigger than the land, breath and all of Indian memory.

It was the Vision Quest of Chief Henry Standing Bear to show the whites that the red man had great heroes, too.
In a man named Korczak he found a kindred spirit,
a storyteller in stone, a survivor of Omaha Beach,
who when the first wife faltered, found a second
who gave him enough children to carry, sculpt the Bear Dream.  

The big chief’s face is still the only finished part.
Korczak’s wife and children toil with the rest,
struggling to capture the essence of a warrior
who never allowed his shadow to be snared
in the false glow of the white man’s light,
trusting only the rain beams that fall

onto his people, mountains, plains and buffaloes,
onto Paha Sapa, “the heart of everything that is,”
where the Lakota huddled while the world was created,
now a land of broken treaties and dying dreams,
drenched in the dust of tears underneath,
while this white face torn from red gazes East.
Wounded Knee is not only the sight of an 1800’s Indian Massacre but the rumored burial spot of Sitting Bull.

The grand confederate gesture refers to Stone Mountain park, a Mt Rushmore etched with the faces of the Confederacy: Robert E. Lee,
Is what you are
Before you go
Extinct

Thought you should know
We're headed for
The kitchen sink

Thrown out like
Left overs

We'll all be
Game over

A game
Are you game enough?
Are you down to break the whole system up?

Burn it down to the ground again
I don't play nice with those business men
Anymore

Yeah, I fight like a girl
Around you
Why don't you take me out for a whirl
Around you

My fathers who founded us
Weren't that different from
Kavanaugh

Womanizers the whole lot of them
Wish I could take a few shots at them
Or with them, American whiskey

The idea of constitutional changes
Have got me feeling
American frisky

Scary as a straw man
Whose straw turned to gold
The artic is melting, will I still grow old?
Extant
And then
Extinct
I write poems in the dark
when I’m more vulnerable
when everyone is sleeping
while I bleed my feelings out
in letters that stand one after the other.

I didn’t learn how to be eloquent
it just happens to me once in a while every time my mind is about to colapse.

I feel everything intensely
and sometimes I try to put them in a cage
I place them there until there’s no room for more and then
they just explode.

I write them in the darkness of my bed
the place where I feel safe
the place where I can be alone with myself
the place that has witnessed uncontrollable breakdowns and
that has dried up a whole ocean of tears.

I write poems in the dark because
it’s the only place where I am me.
Mark Sep 10
You can call us all, including our dog, your hero men  
So when you need help quickly call 9/11  
Rescue we try and save you we hope, from Gods sun filled heaven    
but sometimes we lose out to the devil in this ash scattered hell    
Climbing the steps and spraying the fire, that nobody's skin should've felt    
Bringing you out, one by one, just hold on tight to my safety belt.
    
We are there to protect you, not to distress you    
Dressed in blue, pistol and taser at side, all in full view    
We arrest the speedsters, traffickers and all the gangsters    
Let the judges decide if the sentence should incur extra time for visitors    
Your lawyers, barristers and familiar jailbird friends    
Will testify, use false alibi to get you off and to make amends.
    
We're racing to the scene with the medicine in the back    
Inside bed, needles and portable CPR machine, just in case of a heart attack    
We will revive the dead, patch up a sore head and even help mother with newborn    
So let us through with ease and don't for a second put your hand on the horn    
For one day, it might be you or your family or even a long lost friend    
That is waiting for the moving medical miracle machine in the end.
    
We dress in disguise, mainly in tree green and dirt black    
On the back of tanks, falling from the sky and we won't take any flak    
We're here with orders from the guy at the top    
So don't get upset at us, when we come back with a hop    
We fight to protect the freedom of all mankind    
Just doing our job and hoping not to leave, anybody behind.
Brown is the color you get when you mix all the others together
So they never know where I am from

I am the resident brown person.
The closest skin that tans
that’s who they think I must be

Your children play with modeling clay, play doh, and with different colored squishy slime.

When you put them to bed, take as many colors as you can from their play box and knead them together and you’ll understand why my skin is brown.

And maybe you won’t have to ask where I am from two, three or four times only to still refuse what is obvious
So obvious they forgot to put it in history books

When you enslave, colonize, migrate
You mix
The coalescence and coagulation of blood into human skin
This  should be of no surprise
you mix
Brown children on the back of white mothers, brown children on the backs of black fathers
Brown children tied to the curve of brown womyn’s backs

So do you understand why America is a brown womxn, too?
Alexiss Aug 14
Here I am once more,
Trying to grasp what I can’t comprehend.
You speak to me in strange tongues.
Lesbian? I thought you were American.
Has begun
Are you
Watching?
...
The end
Battle
Nears
...
I smell it
All around
And am
....
Baffled
....
To see
People
Walking
In the old
Ways
As if
....
Nothing is happening
...
As if
All of this
Was just
Made up
In our
Heads
...
But its
Real
Strange
And
Strangely
Real
But its
...
Completely ignorable
Apparently
As I
Drift
Into
Deeper
Waters I wonder
....
How much is in my head?
....
How
Much
Is in
All
Of
Our
Heads
....
What's left for us to do
....
When hypnosis
Has already
Lulled them
Into deep
Sleep can we
Awaken anyone
....
If they still
Don't know
They're
Dreaming
Why
Would it
Change now?
....
Help
....
Stockholm
Syndrome
....
Muse
I Belong
2 U 2
USA
Ken Pepiton Jul 25
while warring on the side of peace I fell to laughing like the medicine of legend and

i found I came here in the nineties and remind myself

if its truth is yours, y' know

otherwise, we survive
we live in joy in every generation
the patient perfect answer
to
Generated
Adversarial
Networks

old school rule surely the net is spread
in vain in the sight
of any bird

ah fantasy how do you form the knots
that bind reality
to
not me? A quest? same as a question,
all over seen by the serpent

standing ***** facing west,
on the point of ever

questing
testing
at this point. You passed. Look for survivors. Ask for nothing.
hope not much i mis spelle anything couls hppen now
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