Welcome, my Fellow Americans
To the Fraudulent Financial Fuckover Fiesta!
Because YOU are the most exceptional people
In the most EXCEPTIONAL Nation, on Earth,
Only YOU are invited
To this EXCLUSIVE Party
Where you will experience the PRIVILEGE
Of being violently raped
Abused and exploited
By the Rich
The Powerful
And the Famous!

Darkness slithers from your mouth
Shadows wither at your touch
You ooze these sick temptations
And calmly erase nations

Gabriel burnS Jul 12

Distress calls are a Venus flytrap
Don’t come flying to the rescue
Or your wings will be
Its 4 o’clock snack
Can’t seem to shut its flap
Ever hungry for more
Always empty at the core
Traveler beware;
Heed not that mayday;
Move on and pay no care!

Jonathan Wray Jul 11

Her laugh is a lie;
An unsettling sound to those who really listen.
She hides behind a mask of colors :
Every picture is a performance,
Every video a demonstration,
Every word crafted with her audience in mind;
She's careful to make the right impression.
That's all it is though,
an impression.
She's an alien life form
Infiltrating the minds of men and women;
human on the outside,
hollow on the inside.
Her accusations are a projection of the person she's terrified to be;
If people saw who she was when the camera stopped flashing,
And the video stopped rolling,
they'd see an insect devouring it's prey
To the tune of it's own maniacal laughter.

zeldaxlove64 Jul 3

Sometimes they'll take you in,
Tell you how much
They love you and how
Beautiful you are.
But that's only because they
Want to see
What's under your clothes.
When you say no,
They'll start to tell you that
Your teeth look funny.
Your hair is too blonde and
Too straight.
They'll start to compare you
To other people.
You'll think there's something
Wrong with you.
This person is  deceiving you.
He wants you
To think he cares about you.
He doesn't.

Page 3
B H H Burns Jun 30

I let your bones lie
beside me…

And while your skin
spins its yarns, I
skim the scum of your charm,
from the broiling broth
of our bare bodies.

So come on –
And spin that wheel
with your winning spiel, as you
purr those perfect words
of perfidy.

So come on –
Embroider my eyes
with your lacework of lies, and
bury in me
those dewy seeds
of duplicity.

So come on –
The pair of us can be as wise
as three of the naivest monkeys.

So let’s lie together with our conceit
spread out around us
on pristine sheets,
And make love, as if love alone can be
the canvas of our deceit.

Pepper Dove Jun 29

Darkness is here
beneath the canopy
where tiny insects inject
venom with apathy
Swiftly spinning
of solitude
watching you
taunting you
wanting you to intrude
Lingering notions
of spraying potions;
You're helpless
and hopeless
and motionless
Can't you hear the cries?
From the spirits
fallen victim to
all of it's lies,
gripping you with eyes
at it's winning
of your steady

Metephorical for all those sneaky spiders in your life, always trying to manipulate you to fall into their webs of deception so they can use you to their benefit and consume your whole being.
Stevee Stone Jun 26

Stamping your feet on the ground,
Wishing it was quicksand.
Heads in tiny places with tapers to explode.
Maybe you want it?

Necks with built in hinges,
To look back into the dark.
Where happiness reigns in your sadness.
Maybe you want it.
God only knows.

A million churches to live in,
So as not to go outside.
With towers of chastisement,
To avoid the lies.
Maybe you want it?
Maybe you don’t?
Truth comes and goes
Truth comes and goes?

his presence stained long
after his glitter
wore thin

uncaring that
his hollow self

puerile jokes regaled
spawning an
ingratiating syrup

of slick deception
fashioned by conceit to
fool most

but the astute
who sensed a rank
dearth of authenticity

long lost
to the lure of
common expediency

Eleni Jun 24

Friday- the most promising day of all.
The beginning of the weekend, but the one day that will spark appall.

Down on Mainstreet all the girls
In their fringed dresses, pouting their foxy lips and their hair waving in short messes.

The hags frown as the winged ladies pass by- displaying their carriages a little sly.

Oh, but Jane's favourite speakeasy was 'The Back Room' down on Norfolk Street: the place where the lost creatures meet.

Tin ceilings, velvet wallpaper, plush thrones and back in that dark corner, there is the sound of low moans.

'A whiskey, neat, please' as a shadow in a tuxedo walked towards her and he whispered 'Hi,' in a sensual purr.

'Who are you?' he stirred,
'Oh, I'm Miss Doe' and he lept into the stool with a swift flow.

And the jazz trumpets married the spontaneous harmonies and the saxophone created sublime melodies.

So they sat as idle as ghouls in the dim spotlights, until Jane asked Mr Buck:

'D'you fight in the war?' And he whined 'Cambrai, Amiens and Lys' - his lips seemed a little sore.

'I'm sorry - do I know you?' His face looked as familiar as Jay to Nick. A brief pause in time at that smile.

That was the final chord to the "lick".
He drove her down to Roslyn- to his replica of Versailles and Jane looked intensely shy.

'Oh, do come in,' the desperado soughed. And she walked into the gilded palace which Cupid's presence bowed.

'I have a favour to ask of you, Miss Doe. Would you be as kind to wash away my woe?'

And as they congressed under diamond chandeliers, his comrades gathered around the bed in amorphous silhouettes; watching disgustedly.

As for Mr Buck he was an alien, skin-to-skin with a haunted beauty and Miss Doe- a labourer on duty.

A story based on the aftermath of the First World War, the birth of a "lost generation" and the excess of the 1920s.

1 'Miss Doe...Mr Buck' referring to a mature female of mammals of which the male is called 'buck'. This further adds to the animalistic imagery of their encounter.

2 'Cambrai, Amiens and Lys' battles of the First World War which the United States was comprised of the allied effort.

3 'Jay to Nick... that smile' an allusion of 'The Great Gatsby' when Gatsby and Nick meet for the first time at one of his lavish parties. Nick romanticises Gatsby's understanding smile.

4 'Lick' a jazz term for a repeating pattern or phrase in music.

5 'Replica of Versailles' a regal palace in France in this poem representing the wealthy individuals of 1920s America in New York.
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