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writer omsy Oct 8
They'll just let you
A few amounts of strength
Just to pull you out
And dip back into the darkness

Hear your voice trembling
Underneath their shoes
Won't they believe in you?
Won't you matter to them?

Sometimes, you crawl
And they watch
Sometimes, they fall
And you watch
It's Just Business.
When I rebelled
On a huge scale
For the first time

I learnt a lesson

What authority wants
Authority gets.
Read my poem Had I Let Go? For the description of why.
SC Kelley Aug 14
We're all rebels WITH a cause.

We all have something that we would put above all else.

Even authority.

~S.C. Kelley
For all the rebels out there
Madison Aug 4
Revolution is

Five syllables of meaning

Life without restraint.
Madison Aug 3
Please stand for our ode

To the elite corrupt.

Sing loud for your majesty

And let him interrupt.

Bask in his diluted glory

Grotesque and proud.

Hear his sob story

About what won't be allowed.

Look at his knights' creations

Pushing opinions

All his own.

Posters read 'know your enemy'

With unsuspecting faces overblown.

See him mellow


As he satisfies his gluttony with wine.

Hear him bellow

'Those who aren't cheering

Are no friends of mine.'

Feel the rage burn my veins

As the crowd follows him blind.

See me lost in my brain

Wondering if they care

About the things in my mind.

Watch the show end

As he calls on his court

Inviting them to sup.

Hear their satisfaction

As they leave for dinner

On the way

Swallowing me up.
If our authority

For what
We dream
Genre: Abstract
Theme: Curiosity

i ******* hate structure in every sense of the word. always have.
any expecting mother, upon finding out that she's going to have a baby girl, suddenly begins spending all of her life's work on gingham overalls, and gigantic, faux-velvet bows to adorn her newborn daughter's bald head. my beautiful persian mama had nothing to worry about at first, she had it her way, and for a while, i was the baddest baby on the block, except i didn't have a block. i grew up on a dirt road on an island called whidbey in the north puget sound. much to fatima's dismay, all that little me wanted to wear once i turned six months old and developed a personality was big t-shirts with logos of bands whose music would keep me sane and my heart only half-broken seventeen years later. i wouldn't let her put pants on me. i would crawl around in my backyard in little more than an alice in chains shirt and a diaper, sometimes riding on my beloved golden retriever's back. i was young when my parents realized that they could try all they wanted, but their child, born on the cusp of gemini and taurus, was too much for them to handle.
i started skipping class when i was in kindergarten; i would run out into the acres of heavy forest behind the playground during recess, and i'd be ****** if i decided i wanted to come back. in middle school, i would skip because growing up middle eastern in a post 9/11 society was enough for me to be bullied to a ****** pulp. in high school, i would skip because i wanted to smoke cigarettes behind the football field with my friends who couldn't go to class because they were tweaking too hard. we would make daisy chains and listen to everything that mark lanegan ever made. i was throwing my life away; well, at least that's what they told me, but i was happy. and it was cause i had been successfully fighting the man since before i could walk.
when I ask myself
what I am
I am not sure I know the answer

a ‚mature‘ man
of 70 plus

of 11 grandchildren

person of authority

mentor for young ones
still looking for themselves

all of the above
or none of it

in the end only those
who read these lines
The more I learn, the more
     I realize how little I know…
which insightful, gutsy,
     entrancing, catchy apothegm

     attributed to Socrates by way of Plato
subsequently self ranking myself
     amidst Phylum Chordata with the Dodo bird
     Class Aves (namely

     said extinct flightless winged creature
with a mass of 29 – 51 pounds Oh!)
once endemic to the island of Mauritius,
east of Madagascar in the Indian Ocean,

     none would be espied,
     no matter how thorough
going across aquatic spreadsheet,
     one might row
eventually coordinating
     dropping vertical column in toto
arriving back to original
     mentally ponderous premise

     gamboling feint enroute to see
     Old Man Wizard Of Oz
     meets Crow Medicine Show
pitching thy quasi recursive query - bro

ching concurrence with another maxim to boot
“ignorance iz bliss”, which lack o'learn'n
     doss appeal to this old coot,
yet such pithy accordance came
     to this smart *** to late,
     a mister wordsmith
     with a palm pilot maximum glute
clamors (at risk of life and limb) to hoot

and holler when new kernel
     of knowledge gleaned finds me mute
as if raw bit of savored information akin
     to unearthing a rare gem,
     or rare species of newt
temporarily allaying fervent quest to root
thru hefty tomes of great literature,
     and tracts that suit
many other subjects,
     less to be arrogant and toot

my own horn, but more so...
to satisfy an increasingly
     insatiable hunger grow
wing nsync with unquenchable
     thirsty ambition less for dough
(cuz bing po'
with treasure trove of voluminous
     expansive bookish notions doth shaw

surpass becoming suddenly wealthy tin *** hustlers
     with un hewn fifty nine shades of gray straw
this haint no cowardly lion seeking Androcles
     to extract thorn from hum my faux paws.
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