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Nolan Willett Jan 2021
Raw and uninhibited
Passion is unlimited
Lethargy’s been,
If you’re a rebel without a cause
Than I’m a dreamer with some to spare
Our entropic revelry we’ll share
To make the world fair
Burn it down
Without a care
Put them on the ground
Smug when caught,
No longer when shot
A ringing, melodious sound;
Wall Street,
on their back feet,
Tumbling down
Avarice assailed,
No other options when
Democracy’s failed
And either side, is on their own side
And neither dissent abide,
They can’t break free
Of their lust for currency
So when mere anarchy is loosed upon the world
We’ll just love to watch it all unfurl
Bard Jul 2020
A systemic epidemic amid the pandemic
Shots off at capitol hill and alls a panic
Forensics takes money from the shooter
Proclaims the victim to be a looter

Throw lives away like trash on the block
Take poor lives at their sides a Glock
Stocks soar, Deaths soar, **** just our luck
**** on tour at mast is the patriots ****

Peace an option until they grabbed their piece
Take the lease call your tab a life will cease
Six six six its the nature of the beast
Money, greed, and avarice

All they want is every slice of prosperity
They flaunt a salary a workless propriety
Makers, producers, and workers in poverty
Still, they will rule with iron sovereignty  

This goes on for four more I'm going on a tour
Camp on a grassy knoll taking shots of Cuervo
Not enough to throw off my aim though
My contribution is to the body flow

That's just how war goes, no justice no peace
Just taking justice away with a piece
When I feel a debt is to me I pull the lease
And I feel what is owed to me is some peace

That'll never happen till all my friends can eat
I may die in a miserable cell in complete defeat
At least my skin won't be fleece won't be meat
For wolves to eat I'll be a man crushed underfeet

Funny we still fight confederate beliefs
More like fight the degenerate beliefs
Of the weak and the meek thieves
Stealing rights and lives for conceit

Liberty or death is the creed of our founders
Yet when liberty is stolen everyone just flounders
Death is the only retort to fascist panderers
Tired of all this fake comfort as a ponderer

The answer soon to be immutable one last stopper
That can permute this course as the only offer
An election of a conqueror or a molester
Choice between a beast and death or a monster

One mimics ein fuhrer  the other will fester
So whats best here civil war or uncle Chester
Months until the toll bell calls on her electors
To choose hell or tepid **** to quell the defectors
Clay Face Feb 2020
There’s nothing to interpret in defiance.
Once you find a set, put place, position and stand.
Work up the vitality to speak in brutality!
There’s no point to declare without defense.

I want to **** in the wind, because *******.
Replace my mind with a button.
Press it, I’ll regurgitate your rhetoric.
I bet you get off to that, stripping autonomy.
Just tickles your ******. Makes you giddy.

I’d starve myself.
But I would eat a bullet if you had your way.

Without a situation, your just without motivation.
Writing in clear ink,
paralyzed in double think.

There’s nothing to interpret in defiance.
A set, put place, stand, or position.
Dissent should never be conveyed,
unclear, blurry, or in repent!

Opinion shouldn’t be followed by different!
Just stand in on stage, speaking sense!
Those that matter will respect,
others will fall to the aspect...
Decent for dessent
That’s how it’s rhythm went
As the conflict came to rise like the spark inside a fire
Intrepid since creation
We’ve been walking many wires
Feigning fear to To try and feel
A discernment of what is real but what’s disregarded is the fact you even have to question
Ignorance is bliss? Or strength in your intention?
Thought cannot be the only thing to exist
However a zombie is a waste if it doesn’t eat
Have a little taste of a musing ride
That brings the flavor, you’ll need a guide
Clear it
Hear it and run
Takin’ a century can it be done?
The meeting as one
Secret salvation the secret is done
Are they telling in whispers and walking like drifters
They’re  tripping on papers it’s time to re gift it
explain in due time ya never could fake this
Always trying to break us
But the music is strong and it’s beat  will make us
The beings that we are
the worlds we are
The birth of the universe from another’s dying star
We are the afterlife of another existence
Brand new creation looking for witness
Billions of years  to finally have it here and now it could easily disappear
Reality is what?
Desire and emptiness?
Why’s the door shut every time I vent through this
Aging agitation
Buried vegetation
It’s time to find the faults within and bless it all with love so that the veil may fall and the world may hear it’s original name, but for now it shall be a very long game
I sit at home thinking of life,
On the absurdities and all the strife,
Caught in a world that yearns
For beings to explore it.

How we’ve all grown addicted,
As no one could’ve predicted,
To our own little "ideal" worlds
That rest neatly in the palm of our hands.

We cry and complain,
How things don’t remain,
Just way the way we want
When we point our heads to the sky.

Away from our own little worlds,

We see grandiosity unthought of.
We see war, famine, disagreements, heartbreaks, rejection, and loss.
We stare for but a moment taking it in as our minds collapse in the straw houses we created.
And then just like that, we shun all that we see,
And look back down to that glowing screen and start to rebuild.

Not with something stronger, no.

With that same old material so readily available, to those who refuse to learn.
To those who refuse to face the reality of life.
To those who prefer hearing their own ideas on rerun.
To those who care more about having the appearance of a happiness than to actually achieve it.
To those who care more about likes and comments, pictures and videos, than meeting others.
We sit there smiling at that device that eats away at our growth, our character, and our resolve.

And in our haste to prevent ourselves from acknowledging hardships, we miss something.
In that infinite space away from our "ideal" worlds, exists the other half we no longer see.
The happiness, bonds, trust, friendships, kindness, and love.
The people that want to strike up a conversation, form relationships.
The people who desire an emotional bond, rather than a visual one.
We imitate this, attempt to recreate it, in our fictionalized lives, not realizing how much better the real thing would be.

If only we would look up to the sky.
I've been feeling that recent generations (mine included) have been too caught up in social media, and worry too much about the image they put out on it. We also tend to get angry at dissenting opinions rather than having a constructive and civil discourse; which isn't helped by the carefully crafted echo chambers we tend to create online. A rather non-healthy lifestyle in my opinion.  

P.S. I was inspired by Simon Sinek's speech on millennials in the workplace. I highly recommend giving it a listen.

P.P.S. Please tell if I'm using the notes section wrong. This feels too long.
A Simillacrum Jun 2018
Broken from

Broken, on top of it,
from poor choices I've made.

What's to come if I
can't fix myself?

I must overcome
my lesser nature.

Would it hurt to
have help?

Let me send
up a flare.

I lose to my sadness
from time to time,

but I want to heal,
and encourage truth,

and I want to mend
with the others who

even under
a thousand

love exists and
empathy lives.
A Simillacrum Jun 2018
Enter a life devoid of
what you
won't ever believe
you truly
take for
granted.                           You do.

How do I know, you ask?
Well,             I have            eyes.

It's not hard to see
your hardships hardened
your heart
to any empathy for us

so,                 I turn               /OFF

so,                  ****       ­         You

What do I know of life?
I'm young /or dumb /and dumb.
I know that I live in a world
that venerates honesty but
punishes me for living with
a                    little               truth.

What do I know of life?
I'm young /and dumb /and dumb
I know that dissent in a world
that venerates this openess
is, will be met, with callousness
unrivaled. unrivaled. unrivaled.
A Simillacrum Jun 2018
if a bitter wind blows

if a liar arrives

on my patio
hard heart
with the

pressed on the razor's edge
(grinning ear to ear as if I wanted it)

when what was once the worst
(grinning ear to ear as if I wanted it)

returns to a placid place

a new threat may
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