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Kat Schaefer May 23
If you’re Jim Jones, then I’m the drinker of the Kool-Aid
I will nod my head in submission and act unafraid
I shall follow in your footsteps and bow before your feet
For I am but a troubled girl who lacks a self-esteem

If you’re Charles Manson, then I’m your ardent devotee
My life, a mere sacrifice, for the desires of thee
Your love and approval is my only mode of existence
For I know nothing else, but am fearful of your distance

If you’re Marshall Applewhite, then I’m your Bonnie Lu
This world is blinded by sacrilege and doesn’t know the truth
So as the comet passes, and we are greeted by our deaths
I will kiss your cheek and say “you were worth my final breaths”

If you’re my spontaneous soulmate, then I am but a victim
For your sudden interest leads to a dangerous addiction
In a few weeks you will disappear and I will question why
While you tell your friends that you’re a "really nice guy”

And I will sit and wonder why you quickly lost interest
When I was unaware of your feelings of belligerence
After weeks of contemplation I will come to realize
That I too was but a sheep, that was herded on your lies
Andrew Fort Dec 2019
Somewhere in the office complex
There is a cult
That dances in circles 'round a fire no one set
Staring at the flame
They scream in chorus,
Chanting the words
In absentium of forest,
No sacrifice of birds

But they are really quite tame people
Unlikely to be chosen by the devils
For their work
I suppose that they just want a contact
In the Underworld's Potomac
Where the devils lurk
And their families at home know nothing;
The memos have told them nothing;
Their deception is quite complete.

No one in the office complex
Uses any salt
The only use for Wi-Fi is for recipes
For the potions that they claim
Give enemies their curses
Render useless locks
Until someone reimburses them
For all their clocks

But no one has it in their job description
To sell hallucinogenic prescriptions--
Well, at least, not quite
Everyone lists lies on their resumés
But none of them know anyway
If their pays are right
The one thing that they dream about
The escape they dream about
Is the ritual every Thursday night

No one quite knows
What they do in there
Pitched percussion;
Tufts of hair
Have drawn a blank
At astral projection;
After that, they sank

The newspaper read that the members of the cult
Are all dead now,
But in the building where they once worked
One hears the echoes
Of spells sung in chorus
Of dances and words
The verses of Horace
The faint scent of herbs
I hope you enjoy this tribute to the workaholics of the world.
Philomena Jun 2019
I hate the way you can't put down a drink
And I hate the way your stupid mind tends to think
I hate watching the tears fall
Cause spilled milk isn't worth crying over at all
I hate the way you destroy me inside
And I hate the darkness you put behind my eyes
I hate the way you say it's my fault
Cause I'm not another follower to your cult
I hate the way you act like a *****
Cause I'm getting real tired of this
Chicken Apr 2019
I hope you’l leave this cult
Cause, I cannot cope with it

He’s got no enlightening
For your soul,
He’s a master hypnotist

Where there’s a master
There is a slave
Sealed in a jar upon a shelf

The only master that is
Necessary at all
Is the mastery of the self.
Cults. Distracting. They tend to offer hypnotic teaching. Hypnotism is not anything to do with being realised.
Victor D López Dec 2018
god is dead
he died of a bad review in The New York Times
that accused him of being
a fascist
and a *****

he is being replaced by a new
non-sectarian trinity
Me Myself and I
all of whom are
to **** god
and say
god is dead
god dead is
dead is god
is god dead

I think I have heard somebody suggest
(and therefore I have)
that the Department of Health is soon to issue
new and improved
free of charge  
to every adult
man and woman
sitting in front
of his/her
TV/Smart Phone/Game Console/Computer
waiting for
Slightly revised from the original in Of Pain and Ecstasy: Collected Poems
Outside Words Dec 2018
In the year 3131
They come to devour our suns
Terrible, godlike, interstellar giants
Inconceivable beyond all reason and science.

Humanity and all her colonies,
Divided amongst the galaxies,
Finally united once and for all
For our race dare not fall!

To eliminate the threat of annihilation
We constructed planet-sized stations
That house massive and powerful guns
To protect and defend our vulnerable suns.

As our fears vanished behind us
Those in control sought to rebind us
For systems of authority never change,
Not even with pervasive freedom in range.

With the powerful distracted by their lust,
For control over every speck of dust,
There emerged a demented cult
That believes our race is at fault,
And beings that come from above
Do so out of divine, parental love.

These naive and delusional zealots,
Inspired by avarice long embellished,
By a ruthless society lacking empathy,
Have developed an ever enduring apathy.

Seeking to destroy our only defenses,
They mount violent and ****** offensives,
Their rugged, disorderly fleets crucify
As humanity is unable to reunify.

However, there is another cooperative effort,
A last stand, self-organized endeavor,
This vigilante group battles cultist detestables
They call themselves The Solar Sentinels.

Bound by a principled, passionate collaboration,
The Solar Sentinels defend all people and nations,
Engineers and military minds come together
To ensure our survival and prosper, whatsoever.

Now, one existential question remains:
Will humanity break free of its chains,
Awaken, realize that we are all one,
Disregard old orders and save our suns?
© Outside Words
Luna D Oct 2018
They want me to come to them,
they miss me they say,
they’ll take care of me they say.
These ghosts try to bribe me with empty promises and voided checks.
An illusion of happiness and peace
if i only give up the life i’m currently living
and return to God
They have no idea how ive changed.
How clearly i can see now.
Lady justice might be blind
but i dont have to be,
impartial justice doesnt exist with ghosts, never has and it never will.
These ghosts no longer talk to me,
i’ve strayed to far off the narrow road. Shunned for wanting to live a life that is my own,
for wanting to love someone who is apart of the world.
For so many things that i have done
and that i continue to do
and none of them are even evil!
Not to the living at least.
The memories of the years i devoted haunt me.
I had tried so hard,
so very very hard to prove my worth.
To show them i could be a loyal follower of christ as well,
the ghosts didnt care,
it didnt matter how much i was struggling,
how close to the edge i was,
the traumas ive been through.
I didnt pray enough,
i didnt throw my burden solely upon god,
i didnt go out and preach the word of god enough
Instead i had turned to the world for help,
i had turned towards people who’s job was to help me not want to die,
to help me work through my problems.
I had turned my back on the ghosts.
And every-time i had tried to return to them
they only made it harder for me to get into paradise.
And after all they had done,
after being labeled a deserter
and being shunned,
i still miss them.
I sometimes still wish i could go back
Making the choice to leave the organization easy.
Not returning to God is the hard part.
In life with the ups & downs,
when the street lights come one, the gypises come out,
all my life, got told there’s something wrong with my mind
& it’s been written God doesn’t like ugly,
so bought myself a gun, stay on my grind.
I joined the outsiders in exile, learnt street talk,
dwelled in mystery, looking onto history, as a tool,
wrapping myself around the present to ease the fear of the future,
Drinking red *** , roll me the blunt,
success when I know how to self-validate.
Perhaps my
are different
Joe Oct 2018
He's a ****,
A deadly ***.
She is evil,
A skilled deceiver.
They're a cult,
The devil's salt.
But I'm most toxic,
I spread gossip.
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