How many can you count
before your ****** hands
become conscious
how many limbs
must be torn
    mutilated
            burned crisp
that your tears will flow
young soldiers died long ago
so this wouldn't happen again
and again and again
your silence sings
more, more ****** genocide

Invisible walls
Block all human connections
I'll die in this house.

li̲ke what one better
do before going on a hI̲ke, sim.
to that c#cks#cking spineless oppressor
known for bunker-hiding
having bo[ɑ]nds with crI̲me rings
government-budget-trifling
ruling-term-limit-nullifying; sto[ɑ]p, that's
no[ɑ]t it; go[ɑ]tten sidetracked
like a trolley; I̲'m gon' wind back
like what one better
do before going hiking, mind weather
is sort of lame: mostly storm & rain
[anger & mirthlessness]
as before, for this world's insane
plagued by corruption-sparked crime
[according to ocindex.net, worldwide organized crime level]
[rose from 4.87 in 2021 to 5.03 in 2023]
just like the emergence place
of the Dark Knight
[Gotham City]
and the realness of yours remains
something between a nocturnal phase
of a solar day (murk) & an urbanscape
when it's fa[ɔ]ll in reign (gray)
like aqua drO̲[ɑ]ps desc—
—ending fro[ʌ]m skies; sometimes
["falling rain"]
your attic gets overta'en
by go[ɑ]ddamn darkness
like in horror games
or films; dark 'nough you
would no[ɑ]t mind to
watch this world get destroyed in flames
which sounds like the Joker case
[the Alfred's quote about the Joker from "The Dark Knight"]
["some men just want to watch the world burn"]
and, in fact, is a scene sO̲ **** great
and worth slaying for, given, like a person blamed
no longer for a fau[ɔ]lt he made
["forgiven"]
how badly this world's depraved
by the wicked; all the anti-fascist discourse
conveyed by me, like an ******* act, in the course
["*******"]
of a bit more than twain
years; like a deserted place
it's about to be void; I'd say
sim. to Wild West bad boys, I fave
black hats (the hell?); but, of **** course, when they
wind up in stirs, or slain
or in some other misfortune state (ha-ha)
like the country with that Kim **** in reign
[North Korea]
a grim, morbid frame
of mind; read that sick verse I laid
as a part of "POAA" &, before it's late
["punishment of an autocrat" ]
consider reaching a go[ɑ]ddamn asylum
as for the destruction piece, 'course, it ain't
the whole world, but org. crI̲me bands & tyrants
along with loyal aides
of theirs that deserve the fate
mentioned; for, you see, a[ɔ]ll that they
regard highly's riches, which is low
as hell & pretty typical
[it's not money itself that's the problem]
[the problem is the love of money, which (especially when obsessive)]
[as it's known, is a root of nigh-on all kinds of evil]
this world deserves a better breed of criminal
the breed of individual
who'd be ge[ɪ]tting rid of those egotistic rogues
[by "a better breed of criminal", I mean vigilantes]
[the scene from "The Dark Knight"]
[where the Joker sets a money pile aflame with the following words]
["all you care about is money; this town deserves a better class of criminal"]
————————————————————————————————
this world's sick as heedless folks
in pre-middle ages; the wicked means proposed
is a part of a needed serial
treatment of this fierce disease provoked
by a lack/loss of a syst. of principles (corruption)
and known as injustice (global injustice)
when there is nil or low
commitment from good people, evil grows
["kneel"]
["the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing"]

I should not be surprised by the hypocrisy,
It’s not hidden, it’s as thin as a veil,
Over eyes that look but refuse to see
The forked tongue and serpents tail.
Honor is weak and integrity frail
Poisoned by lies and strangled by fear,
Bargained like Faust at a crossroad sale,
Cheaply exchanged for something unclear.
One mans dream becomes another’s tear
Common ground as fertile as salted earth,
Dead as Christ at the tip of Longinus’ spear
Hemorrhaging but without hope for rebirth.
Hope, like a waning a moon grows dark
The Future unclear down this path we embark

Silent street lights,
Like galaxies in fields of black
The night watchers fight
But dark fights back
Each tentative flicker of life
Here against long odds
Convinced that their strife
Is the will of the Gods

Language is a gably thing,
One can gister words as they go;
Cacophony of sounds we set meanings with,
Leaving me flummoxed every time I unwreathe.

Sesquipedalian, dollipling, mollycoddle
Do these quixotic words truly exist?
Wattucturic, rigmarole, dorizating
Naf, won’t tell you which is which.

Maybe words do not aim to bamboozle,
But some are just too choorlish to have been born;
Reminds me of how whimsical humanity is,
Passing on wanches that spell like these.

I can’t seem to find the scriptures that state
“Care only about yourself, but not others.”
On what page are we commanded to hate,
Which proverb advises to make people suffer?
Show me where it says to worship the dollar,
What passage directs us to trample the poor,
On what page can I find Gods favorite color,
What chapter tells us how to keep score?
Which holy verse permits genocide and war,
Where can I read that telling lies is okay,
Where is it written who’s life is worth more,
Which chapter says it’s alright to betray?
I don’t know the answers, perhaps you do,
Just pick a passage that’s convenient to you.

In frozen headwaters on mountains high, 
The Colorado flows from icy peaks 
through canyon walls that climb to the sky,
telling tales of time when no one speaks. 
With fury, white capped rapids flow,
bringing life to the valley where mankind hopes 
for the abundance that green orchards grow, 
in the shadow of loss on Storm Kings slopes. 
Humanity meets nature’s relentless wrath, 
just as water yields to earth and stone.
With time, carving out its determined path
in canyons where strength and sorrow are sown.

We’re told we should hate each other
And we oblige faithfully.
Outraged at our audacious neighbor,
Who we fault shamelessly.
In ignorant bliss of our part in the game,
Like sacrificial pawns -
Are we excused from the blame?