Where were you
when our democracy died?
I was watching cartoons,
with my child by my side.
Ambiguously aware
of our dangerous slide,
as trusted family and friends
say it’s all in my mind.
Safe, for now, in my skin
amongst my “own kind,”
until the day comes,
we are asked to align…
Will we then remember the day
our democracy died?

My nest egg —
Has become my shield and arm
To friends who sit and idly stare
As much as strangers who wish me harm.
Bedfellows in their lack of care
Amidst this blaring of alarm

the day the bombs fell
my house was disintegrated
every plank of pseudo wood
every glimmer of glass
every picture frame that held us in place
everything; except for the fake flowers on the dining table

amidst the shadowed quiet world they stood
even though they don't need sunlight
they beckon the sun to come closer
but no matter how close it comes
the flowers will feel no warmth

they wont ever feel the wonder of photosynthesis coursing through their stems
and into their still golden petals
its not as if they felt anything ever
im not particularly sure about real flowers' feelings either

dont ask me how they made it through the impact because i dont have an answer
maybe the pakistani laborers decided to put in a little more effort for their pennies one day
because the single impurity was a petal with ghostly spots on it
something you would see on an old love letter your grandma wrote

and that petal was the first to fall
no one was there to see it fall
and the world was so topsy turvy that it could've fallen upwards towards the ashy clouds
or it could have defined its own set of physics
a philosophical query in its own right
it could have also just floated there
in the absence of anything
alone

sometimes it's a wonderful thought, being alone
i envy that petal
it could get away from the rest quickly, painfully, easily
maybe it was quick, painless, and easy because there was nothing left in the world to make it hard
i mean its not like there are any biomolecular bonds to keep the petal from falling
there aren't any living organisms feeding on its non existent nectar
and it didn't need any of those things in the first place
they're fake
simple and fake

i don't know why we kept them around
i guess it made everything feel better amidst the chaos of our home
mama yelling at my sister when she doesn't do her homework
daddy yelling at mama when she yells at my sister
and me sitting in my room
also alone but also very much surrounded by the things that i desperately want to get away from

that's why i envy the plastic flower
even in a world where the sun doesn't shine
where the birds don't sing
where the rain doesn't fall
it doesn't need any of the things i need
unfortunately i need oxygen and sunlight and love

it got love just for looking pretty
impossible for someone like me
maybe i am pretty to someone else
but it certainly never got me anywhere
never paid for my dinners
never got me a kiss in the rain
never got me flowers from passersby

but these flowers could just sit there on the table
not even living
and soak up all the love that is now lost to the ashes

its petals fell slowly over centuries
the table, half disintegrated, rotted from beneath the nonsensical flower ***
the remnants of the walls collapsed in on themselves
narrowly missing the flowers
resistant bugs ran to the flower for mercy
but died in its shadow realizing that their cries for sweet nectar were futile and their journey to Mecca was a hoax

over time my home became much like modern day Chernobyl
full of life and light and fresh air
pockets of radioactivity kept the living beings in check
and the fake petals of the fake flowers scattered across this newfound land
the last remnants of human life on Earth
it's almost silly to think about

we got up that day and didn't expect anything new to happen
the same old grind, same old food, same old people, same old rhymes
but the day ended with a skin breaking flash
and the sound of everything dying reached us before our deaths

it was rather slow actually.

The realm of disguise.
So apparent is intoxication, however, seen by the masses, invisible to one's own deception in the making.

A nightmare, you wake up sleepless, rushed by acquainted thoughts of the obvious and absolute tedious workings of  your insides willing to wash you out, in attempts to clear your sins.

God can't save me now, nor can the height of which my conclusions barrel off of a building that I once loved.

Home?

Perhaps the sandman that ls offered to me in little bags will allow dissociation enough.

When we recognize the con
And it settles in our bones
Will we realize rights are gone
Or cast ourselves before the throne?
Will we see what’s wrong and right?
Mesmerized by gilded flair
I wonder - will we still fight
for our favored billionaire?

The circus is back in town
But who’s in charge?
The ringmaster? Or the clown?
And while the freak-show’s at large,
Fighting over the crown,
And deciding how much to charge,
They watch the rest of us drown

“This is not medically necessary for you”
Say insurance men when the bills come due.
My physician and I might disagree,
Will that even matter? I guess we’ll see.
This is the land of milk and honey,
Get what you need, if you have the money,
That’s the long story short, get ready to fight
If it cuts into profits, we’ll know what’s right.  
As for you, well, have you tried prayer?
That’s much easier than expecting us to care.
Just turn your eyes up to the man in the sky,
Hey, if we’re wrong, it’s no loss, you just die.

This town holds secrets
Don't you know?
Between the houses and their lawns,
Between the market square and suburbs,
Between the forest and the parks.
A mystery lingers
Like unsettling fog
Suffocating, deadly, murderous.
The longing silence
That draws exhales from townsfolk.
The rolling winter
That fills their hearts with dread.
For the creatures of the mountains
Come down to the haunted town
Drawing blood on sidewalks
To satisfy their frozen hunger.
The people tape their windows
And blind themselves with scissors
For they cannot bear to see the horrors.
Each season, a part of town shrinks away
Like termites eating entire wood slowly
Devouring the taste.
Soon, it will become a ruin
Uninhabited, lost in time, lonely.
What once was the American dream
Now an urban flower in a devastating jungle.
A leftover, remnant of something great, eaten away by greed,
destroyed by self hatred.

bird droppings
from the skies I'd plummet
into the arms
of the open road
of the paved places
of the winding canal
of the idle city sleeping

drowsy in my somberness
quiet in my pain, I labored
spilling my blood with a copper's clamor
the din of supper, scraping rusting fork & spoon
'pon tin plate
to hear ravens' drowning cries
rattling in the tin can of my empty mind
searching for the truths devoured
by many come before
who wound me dearly
who loved me,
dearly
and craved every drop of blood
succored
every morsel of marrow
how they loved me,
my flavor
my scent
craved the texture of my soul
that decadent, succulent chew
the note of my fermented heart
the painsteaking cuisine of my hopes & fears
no monster could dare
devour
as humans do,
as humans do...

as human devour
whom they love...

and wherever you go
finding me,
as aimless trails
of loose change, on sidewalks
on open roads
in parking lots,
in the hot sun or shade
know they wandered there
in drunken stupors
as I fell out of the gullets
of their wanton avarice,
they lost me perpetually
spreading my worth,
as they spread their disease
cloven hooves clopping, clapping, clipping their way
away from the devastation
of the feast of my dying
like banks
emptying in my ruin
of the wake of my demise
their empires, falling
fiat failing
loose change spooling
like my passions,
my yearning for pleasures of flesh
they ***** every woman I ever adored
society,
in the desert of that lustful ******,
disemboweling...
establishments, perishing
grants, drying up
riverbeds, swamp-like
don't forget
how they,
you,
chose the love of money
over me,
as you butchered me,
like choice cattle
no golden calf could ever beat veal
no price could hold sway over the madness of their deal
how demons waited
gap-toothed smiles twinkling
eyes dark, cold, wanting, hungry
accepting every handshake with glorified glee
malice of eternities, met with mirth,
poured over sinful charity,
from those who destroyed the good
despite the evils that would follow

I was the innocence - the sacrifice,

they enjoyed every taste of my youth,
my joy, my spirit, my screams,

they enjoyed every taste of my innocence
despite every harrow,
nestled
in every mouthful,
like broken glass filling
in fillet mignon
******
good
fun...

and here I am
this one's yours
your own pretty penny
with no thoughts to spare
for your pennies could never purchase my thoughts
for my thoughts are worlds of real estate
no longer on the market
closed
like never-never land
a tombstone reads:

"Here lies,
he who never lived,
for living was too high a price,
for the world to bear being free,
due his freedom,
therefore, he died,
that they may remain slaves
to the devil's delights,
evermore..."

and no one was there
to proclaim forgiveness
that they, who ransacked, knew not what they did
for they, who ransacked, did know
and yet persisted
for the sake of their own yields of riches,
***, and a deep-rooted
desperate sin
called,

"greed"

never been one whO̲ contains much
faith in the human race, but
now it's just about bo[ɑ]ttom-low
which reminds of a squa[ɑ]tting pose (bottom low)
sometimes, it's like I̲'m on a ride that goes
down the dark misanthro[ɑ]pic road
I̲'m not the driver, though
[but I guess I sort of chose the "vehicle" & keep staying in it]
and to descrI̲be humankI̲nd, I'd go
with the following cO̲[ɑ]mment: "inside a post
apo[ɑ]calypse truck that rolls mindlessly, like it's no
tomorrow, down the dysto[ɑ]pic road"
sometimes, I'd li̲ke to be one in rose
tinted glasses, like some pretty lA̲ss dis—
—played in some fashion-oriented mA̲g piece
but the mind of mine is wired otherwise
but forget it, for rI̲ght now, I would like
to continue the dystopy theme fro[ʌ]m the prior lines
autocracy, AI̲, with both
on the rise, it's like into the dark we go
do you know why it's ca[ɔ]lled
"high classes"? 'cause an archetypal soul
belonging to a high class is all 'bout
self-indulgence, dough (power, high on power)
[since, according to Ted Kaczynski, the power process is the process of satisfying needs]
[having power in its different forms makes living humans delighted (high)]
[just like mood-elevating narcotics called "uppers"]
[what I imply with those lines is high social class[-es] is/are called "high" due to]
[its/their members being under the influence of their power acting as uppers for them]
and for the mass to throw down
the system, there's a lack of civil drive & know[ɑ]ledge, so
it seems like no way of sto[ɑ]pping those
two, except for legislation that prescribes
development, usage, & spread limitations to[—]ward AI
[should be worldwide]
and (with regard to autocracy) an armed overthrow
by antiauthoritarian-minded folks
who, at some point, would pro[ɑ]b'ly grow
corrupted like wrong ones dethroned (dead end)
tragical, but at the same time, it's kind of co[ɑ]mical
[the way humankind is throughout its history]
humankind is like an utter dolt
who keeps stepping on a frO̲nt end of a ****** ***
like a ****** getting her tyrant-minded clients croaked (****** ***)
but AI, which is obvi' gon' be utilized to exercise control
[in fact, that's already the case]
["RoskomNAZIor" with its **** "Oculus"]
or even have the might to exercise control
and autocracy itself are no[ɑ]t the sole
pro[ɑ]blems known; humanitarian plights provoked
by warfares (look at Africa); with enviro holes
being dug since Brit's industrial
[the "dig oneself in(to) a hole" expression]
revolution & the people number growth
someday, there'll be a time the globe
won't be the sentient species' lovesome home
but environment
is among stuff chI̲ng-corrupt jerks
that rU̲n or get
investment I̲ncome fro[ʌ]m firms
speciali̲zing in
fossil fuels gI̲ve not co[ɑ]ncern
toward, hence the climate change denI̲A̲l them
filthy rI̲ch schmucks support
[as if they don't have or aren't gonna have offsprings]
but there's always an abrupt turn
to take to end this f#cked world (sort of end)
I mean, do no[ɑ]t for—
—get about dA̲[ɛ]mn nuke bo[ɑ]mbs stored
both in the "eastern world" with authoritarian govs (madness)
[China; North Korea; Pakistan; India; Russia, with Belarus as its nuke base]
and in the "western world" with somewhat liberal ones (lesser evil)
[USA, with some NATO states as its nuke bases; France; UK; Israel]
what I imply's the sapiens kind
is doomed; even if the final chapter's not nigh
it's still just a matter of time
[doomed to be a dystopian civilization with: constant control & oppression]
[by the powers that be; violent crimes, incl. warfares]
[starvation (in some regions); worsening environment]