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Andrew Rueter Aug 2018
We experience xenogenesis
A horse births a Pegasus
Metamorphosis
Of a horse in mist
It starts to get ******
Adding its colt to its list
Of things it won't miss

Pick a side
To abide
Be a bride
Of the tide
Of our pride
That divides

Listen to me
Glisteningly
Christening thee
As all I can see
So strangers flee
Ending my need
To follow their lead

Roundtable
Clowns label
A painful angle
Of Cain and Abel
By cutting cables
Becoming stable
By turning tables
On their fellow man
Making a bellow band
Of the yellow brand
For this well of sand
Has the smell of demand
Creating the hell at hand

It's a figment
Or a signet
Of a big net
A pig let
On a rigged bet
For a jig jet

Band of brothers
Versus others
Killing colors
Paint by numbers
Tainted slumber
Heart of lumber
That they sunder
Then they wonder
Why we're under

All of their vision
Is in a jingoism
Single prism
Decision
Of derision
No precision
To their incisions

The faithful fractions
Of fateful factions
Don't face their actions
But race to reaction
At the pace of passion
To their racist bastion

Darkened tracks
Harken back
To white and black
Skies of flak
From the attacks
Of baritone blaster
Carrion caster
Natural disasters
Killing our pastors
Becoming our masters
So we'd die faster

Counterculture vultures
And contrarian poachers
Convince the loafers
They'll be heard
If they say the right word
Diamonds assured
In a deal absurd

They promise ailment mending
But it's a clever sale sending
A fairytale ending
Of only people we love
And God up above
Nodding in approval
Of the other's removal
So the problem's renewal
Is an unbreakable jewel

These xenophobic aerobics
Corroded and loaded
Us into a low den
Where we're so dead
We can't use our own head
So we make our own bed
And we make it with dread
SøułSurvivør Jan 2017
WAR
Chaos of the trolls of Mars
Havoc wrought by fallen stars
Terror flailing, caught by night
Pawns move one space, born to fight
Women make a frightful pact
Carry babes into the act
The stench of bodies as they pile
Questions not for rank and file
Bouncing Betty's horror, aye
Shrapnel flung to meet an eye
Bullets dodged, and bullets met

The Bomb's the best idea yet... !

Men sit desks behind the scenes
Living on the blood of spleens
Generals spew their jingo kant
Presidential "patriots" shpeel their rants
All the King's horses, all the King's men
Do things WAY beyond OUR ken
Mother's sons get GI Joes
Daddy dies... and on it goes

A testament to heartless greed

A bride's trousseau is widow's weeds.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 1/26/2017
Blood making mud of foreign sod
War's a stench in the nose of GOD!

— The End —