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OpenWorldView Jul 12
made us money slaves
control our narratives
divide and conquer
we live in a crazy
nearly surreal time
it plays like a bad movie
in front of our eyes
Mark Wanless Jun 9
lyrics maybe may 17 19

words words words
  heard them all my life

just a refection of my mind
  a mirror of distortion

a life of my creation
  here i am now

walking forward slowly
  into the dark

unknown to those who sleep
  when they lay at night

to change this time i can not
  think of what to do

cause i'm looking outside
  but inner is the true

time to hate is over
  hating for so long

time to create the next life
  master of the song
Maniac girl May 24
Hey master, hey boss,
My salute to your flaws,
And your f*cking stupid laws,
I gave my best and you told me to do better,
And that better never satisfied you, unsatisfied Hater,
I didn't sleep for 2 weeks but that doesn't even matter,
You don't appreciate my work,
Like a perfect ****,
Oh I am an imperfect perfectionist,
Truth hurts, lie heals.

Oh dear, dear sir, I’m right here,
To work for you night and day without shedding a drop of tear,
And all you have to do is give me money, my dear Sir.

Oh I’m a robot in the form of human you hired,
I'll die if I ever get fired,
So I do everything perfectly without getting tired,
But you don't appreciate me, I can see it's conspired,
It's self-abuse, I'm doing to myself,
It's torture to the robot what you are doing to me and you know I can't help.

I might die soon without really living,
But if I die today, I die happy,
Cause there is no reason to live, life is boring,
And it's not that I'm unhappy,
I'm just never satisfied,
I always think of all the time when I lied.

It feels empty so I try to fill the space
I don’t ever understand if it’s me who chase the trouble or trouble who chase me,
Oh, you think that you are manipulating me but I'm playing the fool all these days.
That's why I always agree to disagree
Waynepatrick May 17
The master has me on her leash
She leaves my head with ache and guilt
I lack any kind of peace
In seconds she brings down all I built
She teases with her departure and  lets me think I'm free,
But comes back never letting me be,
Then rewards me with pints of joy never to the brim,
She's sure to leave some to the dreams,
Like glue she sticks to my thoughts,
Grins at instances I fought and leaves me there to rot,
The master knows she's strong ,got me humming to her songs,
Her weakness is my hope,the scissors to her rope,
One day she knows I'll get up and forever go.
Kenji Apr 24
With a shadow creeping behind me, making every promise empty.
Intoxicating my nerves, I am being chased.
Stalking my forecast, I run at ten speed.
No stopping, I turn around to see a shadow so empty, its mere whispers have demolished into misty ash.
It haunts my every being and stalks my rotten prey.
It displeases my humanity and consumes my lost soul.
I run, run so fast, the lights hit bloom.
Scared, fearful of what it can do, I look down, I see the shadow
The shadow was you.

The ghost I'm trying to escape, just keeps coming back.
The feeling is poison, but beautiful at the same time.
The feeling is toxic, but fills my void of loss and emptiness.
You're a bad guy, playing with my emotions and unleashing my toxic tears.
Confusing my feelings and handling me like a puppet.
Why do I love you?
Since you're the master of puppets, you've dominated and learnt to control me.
Let me go.
Or I will turn around, and leave.
Leave you empty, till you lose control.
Metallica - Master of puppets
Sasha Raven Mar 25
Monica, please save us from this H*ll,
save the planet, where we live and dwell ...
Those Machines are giving us a command ...
It is a tyranny! Look! Drought land — the sand ...
Monica, and I will never ever understand ...
Wow, They rule us with an iron hand?
Yes, They have us, now, and They control ...
In the nights with weapons They patrol ...
Shorten this, our flesh will not be saved!!!
We are all exhausted being enslaved ...
We made angels, into demons They had turned ...
Master, Monica, all the humanity is now concerned!!!
Stephen James Mar 25
i move thru rolling hills clothes caked from dust

a pilgrim with no master and
no one to trust

for love of the art dictates
my style and stance

fluid in the movements of hells

kitana at my side in my hand sacred

the blade reaps the souls words clash with frontal lobe

i journey the countryside sunrise to

thru bloodshed from foes neck i remain unchecked

suspect at large down this lone
path i march

throat parched from dry wind i remain unhealed

scarred from the years i dodged
enemy spears

and nights i lost love from the one
i dried tears

no one to swear allegiance to while i roam presestined

and strengthened as my wisdom remains unquestioned

left in the wreckage of this rite of

casualties and threats flee
i remain a savage
a verse
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2018
I am not the master of my writing

my writing masters me,
seizing me when the seizure is a sure thing,
it dictates to its enslaved scribe
what it desires this utensil to reveal and expel -
the contraries
who having battled to a ****** draw leaves the battlefield trembling with indecent indecision; the optimal conditions for its macrobiotic invasion of my brain stem;

the she-muse offers me two choices:
she wants a poem writ forthwith
on the lyrical expression
of depression and refusal is
non optional

so I fantasize escape and that becomes
her property as well;
evidence against me to be used at my trials,
the one where there is no statue of liberty
from the limitations of prior bad acts;

I offer the she-muse two choices:

give me a cabin with WiFi
and self-enforcement of solitary confinement and
tie me up with the rope remainders of broken bonds,

bonds that tied me up worse
when they were broken
and the peaceful withering
that won’t disrupt disturb nobody
from a distance

my other choice is to bury me
forthwith next to my parents
and shutter my constant tearing eyes which are drop-resistant

muse says that’s no choice
I own your voice stilled or not,
will bill your soul’s account for
denial of poetic services

weep; i don’t want the noises that curse this troubled
bodyship don’t want recollections good or bad

the muse-***** cackles with insanity of delight
for she accepts this writ as partial payment
on her commission, whispers I love your
lyrical expressions of depression
that ****** recognition algorithms
alert me that seizing time is nigh

there is no on/off switch for one like you:
father son and holy ghost
"I do not need a thousand souls, I only need one,
which is my master's."
Here is the quote I talked about in my quote hearts. This here is not my quote.
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