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labyrinth Oct 4
******* wake-up! You’re dying over here
Situation’s already a serial killer

US, China, Israel, UK or France
Same tune all over, but different dance

New world order’s conquering the soul
Anyhow it’s long been the initial goal

The Media numbs and The Capital reaps
I shortly call them the filthy creeps

Lousy news, soap operas, sports and such
Good enough to make you lose mind touch

Your brains got a lot of poison injected
No further questions stand objected

Deeper than deepest y’all have slept
Exactly the way you’re supposed to be kept

Designated countries are using democracy
In such a wise manner covering hypocrisy

In your midst, their ******* agents’re dwelling
How and why your wounds keep swelling

Hospitals, schools, medicine and food
Seems like serving you for their own good

Don’t you see? All at your expense
Sixth went bankrupt, you need a seventh sense

The enemy is in fact in your jurisdiction
What the hell is wrong with you? Show’em some reaction

Nine/Eleven, health-care, Federal Reserve!
You honestly believe that’s what you deserve?

Man! Quite visible. Yet, you don’t see
Who or what stops you from being free

Named John, Linda, Mary, Stephen and Bob
They look like angels only; they’re the hob

You’re from wherever; I’m from Istanbul
Lemme put it this way!! They love it when you’re fool

As George Carlin manfully put
Your owners led the souls go kaputt

Good times will be gone, far away
Punishment will be your regular day

As it has been for some time now
Come on!!! Be brave!!! Or simply ciao!!!

You know very well who the **** is responsible
What you don’t know is, they’re not indispensable

Quit ******* and moaning, do something on your own
Remember the darkest hour before the dawn

Pay attention *******, I can talk forever
Do me a favor, and stop saying WHATEVER

Because when ILLUMINATI beats
The very day, you’re mere dead meat

It’s not just you! Still proliferating!
It’s your kids too, why procrastinating

Every passing moment makes you lose hope
If not you or me; who the hell will cope

You mortals, listen!! To break this deal
First gotta get rid of lack of zeal

Unless you peeps begin holding hands
And walk in the direction right against

Nothing’s gonna change towards the good
You’ll soon be left with should, would and could

I’ll anyway share with you one more prescription
Hear me out. So clear! No **** encryption!

To see what the hack’s really going on
Give up being illiterate, idiot, *****

Read and learn AND learn and read
That’s the vicious cycle you need indeed

On the verge of a choice to resist or assist them
Last piece of advice kindly **** the system

Get ready otherwise for some **** blood shed
Labyrinth said it all, either pursue or dread… *******
Copyrighted work
Ken Pepiton Sep 28
Old notes, from before

what they did was imagine a future
the future using a memory (meme) locken in their DNA to cognize

sameness

Defragmenting your mind
disassociate certain ideas from mis conceptions

cost of living, reap what you sow

Lost and know it, is there a way

What if the show (the trial) is a series of phone calls--
listener hears both sides

--- but never speaks--
When is the reward for not doing ever as great as
the reward for done?

A riddle for the robber jailed for doing?
A query for the poet who never wrote?
The singer who never sang, an audition in silence?

Eaking, painful words that say see, soundlessly

and fifteen years passed by
I must say
I know the answer there
I must say
I see farther now than then

Suffer it to be so now. See the music
sing
Sufficient unto the day (no more)

Sop with me, come and dine.

-- Ask the guest to say grace

gracefully, the guest rises to full height,

tears the heel from the loaf,
slowly sops it in the cup of Mogen David,
provisioned by the host,
slowly lifts the soppy bread to lips open
for a bite,

taken, then chewed gently, and swallowed,

Amen. The guest sits and tucks
and gracefully scoops his portion of
a side of beef and three old hens who ceased to lay.

Grace for grace, he mutters, in his own gluttonous way.
as all the tucker's tucked into him.

Smallest child asks, who invited that?

Oh, that.
That's a metaphor. A parable. You see as if that hapt,

you remember it oh so well,
then the story ended and you woke here with memories of never beens.

Not every efforting word makes ineffable sense, some must be heard
to be spoken, other wise they lie

idle, idling like dragons spewing ashes in micro bits of death,
in their slumber atop the horded
answer to all things,

money. the real thing. the idea from which it formed.

A time trading scheme.
Back in the day, we were paid for our attention to reality, then

something changed at the DNA level, down in the core of where we come from,
effortlessly, until

air, whoosh squeeze that back outa me
breathe, old man,

old notes, like we should
honest-account the smell of Dehli
diesel idling in clogs of mopeds and vespas and honda fifties
like Saigon outside Than Son Nhut when the Americans were there

such idle words as these, left lying asif believed
now as when they flowed from a steel nib pen in some era of errors past
parsing sensibly

like old photos in a family album, with no recognizable faces or places

longer lasting than our carbon foot print,
longer than the thread to Silicon Beach sewing stiches before the skein
ripped with the receding tide of couldabeens,

before there was a fast lane, a 56 K modem was a rocket ship, too slow

here come ol' Flattop, Junior, **** Tracey's cutting edge hacker,
Flatop Jones, Junior,
cruisin' Route 66, in 1956, while the Hungarian Freedom Fighter was
grasping at
a dream,

The Yanks are coming, but
they didn't.
Seeya.
I found my personal task spiral binder from the expansion of the silicon bubble into the internet through to the MyTechPeople rollout after the IPO that never hapt. A historical note.
गलबन्दी च्यातीयो
पछ्यौरी च्यातीयो

मुद्दा विचाराधीन
शैली : अवलोकन
विषय: श्री सर्वोच्च अदालत
Empire Jun 6
I was a lawful good
Boring, obsessive
Neurotic
But still good

I started leaning away
Let go of the rules
I became neutral good
I’d bend or break the order
But in the end
I’m still good

Maybe I’m even pushing
Into chaotic good
And maybe I’m okay with it
I like it
And overall
My heart is
Still good

So when you say
I’m not myself
You mean I’ve dropped the structure
Released my grip on order
And that’s what I needed
Maybe I’ll bend it a little far
Maybe create a bit of chaos
But that’s okay
I’m still me
I’m still good
Of course I’m different because of the meds
What did you expect?
Today,
I feel like putting an

OUT OF ORDER

sign on my forehead
and just
go back to bed.
I think I have a case of the Mondays.
Joe Bandini Apr 8
Streets scream streets bleed
under the cobblestones the tear-gas
the lachrymatory
the lacry-annoy-me
Anxiety
Screams and shouts
Into my gene
Thick clouds
Of gas
Of life
  It screams
Here and there
That's life
And steel
Sawing life
With baton blows
Who is stalking us
It's fire and iron
The hell
Barricades
  Cavalcade without a battle horse
But the battle
cut your veins
and that's whether or not it goes
you have to measure up
to hack your way through the battle
to cut the battle into pieces
**** violence
                            Nonsense
The **** smile
That violence
Carve
Often to those
Those who have tasted
Fire
I'm going to file it
With sandpaper and redraw it
At the ink of the heart
Gil Cardoso Feb 11
Light of the lamp
In my eyes
As I hold tight
And stamp my approval

These are nor lies
But a truth that is brutal
Only to me
As no one can see
Blindness of not being me

Preconceived belief
As the proper pupils
Pave a path
They think their own
But they are not alone

They read another passage
On a piece of paper
Lose their independence
And lose their nature

And so we follow the proper path
The papers we read
Written by one who laughs

So shine that lamp
In my eyes again
I cannot read the proper paper
So the pupils I won’t befriend
Written: 9 February 2019
T̩ͅo̥̫ ̦̯͍̱͡i҉͓̜̩͇̗̰̮n̹̹v͍͍̺͖̪̮ơ̤̙͓͕̗̥̯ḳe͓̼͈̺͓ ̴̬͎̻̤͖o̦̫̟r̹̗͈̜͔̙ḍ͇̘̣̯̹̫͟ȩ̼r̹
̭̙̤̫͕͕̙f҉r͇̻̫o̼͙̖͈͟m̖̯ ̨t͙͚͙͙͉h̠̙͉̹̤͞e̹͚ͅͅ ̗̦͖̩͈̰͚͜f͏̱̥͈͙̰͓͙e̸͍͚͍͇ẹ͖̖ͅl̖i̼͕͖̞͎̱̮͜ṋ̨͖̪̙g̢͉ ̼̭o͚f҉̹̳̯͚ ̞̠̥͚͟c̼͍̞͘h̝̬̻̮̙̖͔a͖͝o̲s̡̪̲͖͖.͙̭̹̞͚̮̟
̩̲̝̗͡
̬̠̕W͏͉̥it̻͙͟h̞̝͇͉̭̤̥ ̡̹̪̮̰o̸͉̱͇̰̝̣u̙͍̜͈͜t͏̖͍͉ͅ ͔̜̺͕̜͢o̱̰̣͈̯r̛̹̮̺͕d̝̺͎̘̩͔̱e̲͇̲͚̩̝̥r͇͖̯͉͞.̫́
̟̮͙̞͍̗̳I̠͓̪͈̹̦͍͜ ̗̯͖̬ạ̥͍̦̫̙m̱͎ ̡̥nǫt̩͟h̦̹͕̹i͏̲͙̻͚̰͍̠n̴̩̥̤̦͕̳g̗͙̮.͖ ̙̖
̜͍͎̦͈I͓̱͕͠ ͙͕̰̩a̻̫̩̮̭̩͖̕m̴̰̘̫̯̯̗͇ ̣͚͝e̯̭v̶̮̘̖̙̺̩̻e̘̠̫͚̙̖̯r̴̩̥̯y̡̥̳͓t҉̺̙̺h̪̗̬͍̩̀i̺̹͠n̞̮̣̠g̹̞͍̝̻̳͙.̙͠­̘̮͇̙̦̺,͔.̨̦
̺̣͕͇̱̠
͍͕̩̰̳͚I̪̺̻̙̲ ͉͖̘̯c̴o̧̖̳̭ͅu̼̺l̟ḓ͖͉̯̺̤ ̲͖͔͉̪n̝͖͕e̸̬̦̭̣v̮͕e͚̗͓̖̤r̡͍̤̲̗̘͖͈ ͜l̼̜͙̲̙͓e̶t̠̤̘͕̰̺̥ ̺̭͚̕y̟̖̫ou̖͇̝͇̼̞̬ ̘
̰͞D̝̝͇o͈ ͙̭͉̪̝̹͔͠t҉̥̥͓̗̼̩h̭̼͉̭̪̩̲į̗̘̮̠̬̰s͓̤͉̀ ̧̙a͏̗̹͎̗̗̦̮l͖̟̤͚̜̹o̶̪̹̖̪̠͍n̞͈̰̼̦͞e͘.͔̰͈̱͓̯
the cake is a lie but i am n0t101011110101
sushii Jan 31
Shall one dare to raise the question,
"What is the legitimacy of His Majesty's ruling?"
One would surely be relieved of their head.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~­~~~

'Tis alright, however, since there is still freedom.

"What such freedom exists, when one cannot question another?"

Much freedom still exists in other aspects, so fear not, ignorant one.

Anyways, you should have no reason to question His rule,
For you have served this kingdom well, my feigning innocence.
You, sir, have done wondrously in raising your sword to the enemy.

"But, Father, if I may interject, how come I do not feel free?"

You swore your blood and marrow to the wealth of His Majesty,
And now one such as you dares to raise that prickling question?
You shall have your freedom in due time, my withered husk.

"Father, who is the Majesty?"

You do not ask of the King's personal affairs.

"But, respectfully, I do want to know who it is I am fighting for."

You are fighting on the behalf of our country, for the greater good.

"Father, that does not answer my question. Who is he?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~­~~

Fine, my woeful son--do you wish to know who the King is?
He is standing right in front of you,

And he orders your execution.
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