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jules Apr 24
scrolling through
a colonized culture
that tells us to
stay busy
be productive
work hard
for what a shame
it would be to rest

a capatalist cornucopia
of brainwashing ads
making us believe
we are not good enough
simply as we are
that we should work hard to become
something we are not

the messages they spoon-feed us
travelling straight to the subconscious
where our deepest insecurities reside
secretly piling up in their favour
as they feed more information
ever so subtly and carefully
Ron Sanders Feb 21
Was it bleak or bright, I cannot say, so mesmerized was I,
when I saw you cross your balcony to take the morning air.
Brilliant were the beams and bands that danced about your hair:
an angel in her nimbus, uniting earth and sky.
And I saw you there—saw your red eyes catch the day,
saw you look in my direction, saw your red eyes look away.
A man am I, a dog with human glands.
I snuck behind a moving van and wiped my sweaty hands.
A love unreal confused me, abused me,
tucked my tail and called me stray. Bite the hand
or beg for more? True to form, I slunk away.
And though indeed it strained me, and pained me to adjourn,
I blew a kiss and swore that on the morrow I’d return.
My heart, he soars on silken wings.

That new day came. Ah, so unjust! And so complete my pain—
I saw you with another man, your higher halves entwined…perhaps,
though shards of years were ground to dust, my blood prints marked me plain:
a mongrel doomed to stoops and stones, a cur condemned to scraps.
I saw you—saw you slit me like a knife,
eviscerate my very soul and leave my pride to rot.
You…you kissed this man! You graced his life
with lips Love meant for me. You left me nought.
So rapt, this man! Oh, why, sweet thing, were you so wrapped in he?
A fractured dream, a crippled heart—Ha! What are they to me.
My brain, he lurches light-to-shadow.

The day was black, and cold as sin. Intent, hell-bent,
I sought your hearth again…and saw you with a dozen men!
I blew it there, I lost it then. I split but scampered back in ten.
Then kneeling ’neath your window, and bleeding onto chalk,
I visualized a pentagram, and drew it on the walk.
O wretched me! The ills I loosed were sudden and extreme.
I seemed to reel through realms surreal, engulfed in flames and steam.
But in that rune I saw you—your burning hair, your melting face—
betrothed to a misshapen brute, and crushed in his embrace.
I saw you fry, my tainted pie, my angel-not-to-be.
No matter, dear, our course is clear. No other fool,
you fickle jewel, will share your fate with me.
My fist, he palsies as he clenches.

Dismayed by dreams of infants’ screams, I part my lids to find
I’ve merely lost my will-to-be, I’ve yet to lose my mind.
The frauds and freaks run howling, the living **** the dead—
I’d give my all to make my peace; alas, I’ve made my bed.
With toes aflame I wander lame down ways that pitch and wind;
the lashers all assume I’m lost, the hiders think I’m blind.
But I saw you—the Master’s squeeze—a wizened, crippled crone:
a wagging head and yoke of lead, an anvil on your rear.
Your shins were munched, your back was hunched, your skin was puckered rind.
A scorched queen with a smoking crown, your swelling belly led you down
a path of spewing stone, where fouled and flanked by giant flies,
I saw you pass through veils of gas, your piglets close behind.
Your clogs were frogs, your wedding ring a thing of chiseled bone.
Your skirt was thatch, with hose to match the squalor of your thighs.
I saw you walk his wombats, dear, but I was in your eyes.
My leg, he chases me in circles.


Thanks for reading I Saw You. NOW PLEASE CLICK ON THE LINK BELOW TO READ HERO, A SPRAWLING, GROUNDBREAKING FANTASY FOR GROWNUPS IN TWO PARTS, ALL ABOUT THE FIRST HUMAN TO CIRCUMNAVIGATE THE PLANET. (BUT YOU MUST CLICK ON THE PROVIDED LINK AT THE CONCLUSION OF PART ONE TO ACCESS PART TWO! THAT’S WHERE THIS TALE’S AMAZING RESOLUTION LIES. But please...intelligent, readers only!)
NOW HERE’S THAT LINK:

https://allpoetry.com/poem/14922744-Hero---Part-One-by-Ron-Sanders


Copyright 2020 by Ron Sanders.

contact:
ronsandersartofprose@yahoo.com
Drop that skateboard! Put down that cell phone! Click on the provided link to read actual literature.
Lou Romano Oct 2019
The subject of this email is as usual... subjective! Not sure there is actually a subject involved? I mean if I just ramble on about any old thing that crosses my mind, how would that be described as a subject. I submit that the "subject" line of all emails should be moved to the end of an email! That way we would have a better grasp of what the subject of the email truly is.

Better yet it should automatically prompt you to go to the subject line when you click "send" to fill in at that time. Maybe the email program should even give samples of possible subject lines based on google's interpretation of what you have typed in the body of the email. Better yet that program should just run automatically and impose a subject line based on the information in the message body after it is run through several psychiatric data bases and analyzed and a consensus has been reached...

Hmmm... Now I'm thinking that there should be a mind to keyboard interface so we can do away with all this time-consuming typing! And while we're at it why not add a chip in our brains that thinks for us and sends the data it receives directly to the keyboard interface... I mean think of all the time we would save not having to think any more!

Why stop there? We can also add emotion chips so that when we are letting our thinking chip talk for us we can also have the emotions that our emotion chip thinks we should be feeling automatically inserted into the email with the capability of it being felt by the emotion chip in the person whose thinking and keyboard interface chips are perusing the email written by our thinking and keyboard interface chips.

Ooooh now I'm really thinking... why not install mini SD drives in our brains so we can change the way we feel by simply inserting a new SD card? That way if we happen to read one of the emails thought out by our thinking chip, written by our keyboard interface chip, analyzed and consented to by the psychiatric data bases and given a subject and we decide that we want to change the way it is perceived by the thinking chip of the recipient we can simply insert a different emotion SD card into our SD drive and have those new emotions embedded directly into the email!

***! This is genius! Imagine the time we could save! I could just go on and on with this! The applications are limitless. Why hasn't someone thought of this before? Oh wait, what am I thinking... this is old news. This is called brainwashing and the government and every major company in the world has been doing it since the dawn of capitalism!

I'm going to stop now because I am no longer sure if the words I write are my own, or if they are just a bunch of noise created by the humm of all the post hypnotic suggestive clutter in my brain from years and years of commercial TV and slick politician abuse.

That's all I have time for this morning. I apologize in retrospect for the emotional agony I have put your brain through while reading this inane banter...
Kaiden A Ward Jun 2019
We wrap headphone cords
around our necks like nooses,
drowning our senses in senseless noise,
marching mechanically through the streets,
pressed forwards by the weight of the masses
at our backs, unaware of our own heartbeat as
corrupt corporations and our government masquerading
as a democracy
steer our feet down endless paths of addiction,
feeding off of our misery, stealing the life
from our lungs from the
very moment we are born.

And we never saw it coming.
I watch you
as you lick your fingers
and laugh at the funny man on your cellphone
while the clouds above your head
outside the taco bell are not real
while you breathe in the poisons you can't see

I watch you
as you dance in the fairytale of non disclosure
that the box displays
that the news portrays
the fictional truth
the yodeling boy in Walmart
captivates
while pleas from those who see the truth
fade like the voices of trees and bees
and empty seas

I watch you
as you shed tears for a dying love
but close your heart to a dying planet
the clock ticking
the hours wane

I watch you
picking out the last car you will own
working so hard to get that promotion
and you know you're so much better
as you ponder sugar substitues

through red and tired eyes
tears loaded with nano particles and other poisons
I watch you drown in your blindness
your sad brainwashed life
your own slow suicide

tonight, before you begin your final sleep
open your eyes just wide enough to see
you could have stopped this
feeling particularly dark today - I guess I'm just getting tired of internalizing
Sara Leal Mar 2018
We are all humans right?
Humans with fears,
Humans that shed tears.

Humans that should be treated equally,
Humans that shouldn't have to suffer without reasons.
Humans that have the right to choose what they believe in or not.

So why isn't this happening?
Why are we not being treated equally?
Why are we suffering without reasons?
Why are we being stopped from having the right to choose what we believe in?

Why all this?
This shouldn't happen.
This can't keep happening.

But I know I can't do it alone.
I need you.
They need you.

People are being tortured right now,
They're suffering so much right now.
They need us.

It might be them today,
But tomorrow it can be you or me.
And do you actually feel alright not doing anything about this?
Do you feel good not helping your own kind just because it isn't you or someone you know in person?

Do they deserve this?
Would we deserve it?
Being hurt for wanting to believe in what we want?
For having free will?

Is that a reason to be tortured?
To be killed?
To have our loved ones taken out from us and have them being hurt?
To be thrown away into prison?
To be brainwashed?
To be taken out everything we cherish and love?

No!
It is not,
And it'll never be a reason.

You and me know that.
Now spread the word,
And make the difference.

If you really call yourself,
An human being,
Let's end this tyranny.
It's really out of the world the things humanity can do to his own kind.
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