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Jonathan Sep 20
I was a bigot,
My body wrapped in red and white,
With blue eyes on stardom.

I was a saint,
Satan's servant with a Bible,
A man of God's war crimes.

I was a fundamentalist,
Funding mental lists of hate
With money stolen from the poor.

I was a colonist,
Carving out sacred land
For the benefit of my white body.

I was a misogynist,
Marking my territory like a dog,
******* on the other’s freedom.

I was an American,
A white straight man,
A brutal prodigy of the patriarchy.

I was
As he was,
A lineage that will be broken.
kiran goswami May 18
There was a ****** in my nation today,
There was a ****** in my nation yesterday.
But unlike the other time, my nation did not cry.
It did not bang the doors of justice,
My nation did not try.
The criminals sat on thrones and proved themselves innocent.
The innocent became guilty as they had only a few pennies and no more cent.
I did not see people cry,
I did not hear the pain
I did read the news where they said, 'The murderer fled by a train.'
I could not see the people hugging,
I could not see love,
but in my nation, I saw a dead, white-feathered dove.
The peace in my nation died,
the girl in my nation died.
The people in power laughed while the nation cried.
I saw the flag of my nation but all I saw was white.
I saw my nation's condition
but all I could do was to write.
So, I will tell you how there was a ****** in my nation yesterday,
and there was a ****** in my nation today.
he tackle
the law
that wrestle
the modernity
with pain
like Lysander
when politics
wrangle the
Star-Spangled Banner
when it
drew the
hep of
carols there's
an honest
girl to
sing granola
there a man of Ohio,retired
Is what you are
Before you go
Extinct

Thought you should know
We're headed for
The kitchen sink

Thrown out like
Left overs

We'll all be
Game over

A game
Are you game enough?
Are you down to break the whole system up?

Burn it down to the ground again
I don't play nice with those business men
Anymore

Yeah, I fight like a girl
Around you
Why don't you take me out for a whirl
Around you

My fathers who founded us
Weren't that different from
Kavanaugh

Womanizers the whole lot of them
Wish I could take a few shots at them
Or with them, American whiskey

The idea of constitutional changes
Have got me feeling
American frisky

Scary as a straw man
Whose straw turned to gold
The artic is melting, will I still grow old?
Extant
And then
Extinct
Ken Pepiton Sep 2019
Mrs Malaprop got away, a way, I mean, a way
wit words

she can say shitistic stuff as if stuffit were a joy,

when she says it, while
telling
still silken legs crosse demurely,

the delicate ankle

that made monks blush and blurt out
confession,
MY GAWD,

rolling, clockwise, as she sees it,
counter to my

FPS POV, but we both see the direction,

east, the earth is turning east from now
to then when
you become wel here in now.

Recall the lesson of flat land, whoever taught it
coulda been AE Wilder-smith hammered

Jael's nail home,
Couldabin, mightabeen Sagan made the killing blow

young earth shattered.

Fossils seeped their living substance into stone,

petrific, ter ific magnetic trick of missed percepticons

fired fully of the intention, I must mention,

stretching truth to cover conjecture when ideas

like what happened in the "Cambrian" being being
explosive become

purposeful in minds of men, wombed or un---

--- once
--- before you knew, that hapt.
--- and, god, did men make up storys.

on track. Back when men first imagined doing

making, art arose and
we all know
a rose, by any other name is a rose.

That's the idea in self evidence. It's a key to
the Declaration of Independence making sense,

at the level of we, the people, who know
self-evident non-thingables, when we hold them.

At first, they feel like sleepy puppies. These
truths we hold selfevidently right.
I think about america being a workstaion on space ship earth, sorta.
Daisy Feb 2019
I am here now
Amidst the ashes;
Away from the world's mystification.

Do not weep for me now
Remember my sacrifices;
My love, my life for the nation.

They reckon they've won now
They laugh, they celebrate-
Sad! they do not grasp the ramification.

Mother have lost her child now
Holding a grave ache in her heart.
And me- a fallen father for my girl and son!

Will I be avenged now!
Or end up like a long lost memory
Of honor and love for my country?

Will I be avenged!
Or end up as a tool in the game of politics
Between vultures clutching on the opportunity?
Oh Canada
You are one hundred and fifty years young
And across this great nation our many
Cultures are proclaimed as asset
Rather than liability
Or so the Head mouths
Until the Head attempts to ban its own niqab

How can We truly be free
When the Head proclaims:
“Smile, you’re on camera, oh patriot
You have nothing to fear if you but OBEY

If you allow our shears to slice
Your liberties free from you
A twisted plot device  
To put in motion
Taxes, taxes,
Bombings, bombings,
So We don’t fall down!”

The Mouth tells us:

“Your safety comes at a price,
Oh Canada
Safety is not a cheap commodity
Oh nation

We owe it to our southern Big Brother
To help enforce peace
It is time for us to pay the bank
What we are owed
Oh country

Like unto what Ginsberg once said;
‘It’s them Russians, them Russians,  
And them Chinamen.  
And the terrorist Boogeyman.’”

Head smiles approvingly at Mouth
As the Hands share Their gospel:

“Children, do not fret,
All is well so
Keep calm and carry on
we act to protect your safety
Feel the comfort of the
Flak jackets of the Watchmen
Strong and secure among us
Patrolling with tanks, guns, and teargas
All is well, little ones,
Let us tuck you in with a sweet THC sleep
we act as we do in your best interests.

The match which lit the state-approved ****
Snuffed out by the wind of the vox populi:

“We cry
Oh nation
Over the spilled blood
Of the unarmed soldier who died
Protecting the epitaph of the nameless
We mourn for the nation’s first
Whose land was unjustly taken
Their wealth pillaged
Distributed amongst *******
We weep for the babies  
Who cannot get into hospitals
Whose waiting rooms filled for hours
Because the doctors are too overworked
To deliver the children
Who will grow up to find
They have none of the skills
For any of the jobs

We cannot keep calm and carry on
Freedom is in peril
We must defend it with all our might
Protect what’s ours by right
The right to grow love
Not nuclear third arms
The right to be known as a people
Of bravery and longevity
Not platitudes and brevity
We have the duty to remember that we
Are the True North Strong AND FREE
Oh Canada
Your People Stand on Guard For THEE
~
NM
07/01/17
* in response to Allen Ginsburg's "America". An idea conceived after the 2014 attack on Canadian Parliament, and perfected with  Canada's sesquicentennial in 2017 in mind
Wyatt May 2018
Land of the trend,
home to the slave.
Corporate messages sent.
Mass-delivered,
definitely filtered
to the eyes of the many.
Screens to share faces
from the basements
of the depraved.
Taught to hate ourselves
unless we're all willing
to rock these name brands
and branding our skin
if it ain't covered with Gucci.
I never got caught up in all of this,
maybe that's why you never knew me.
Pumping up drugs in the trap
and then make a brand from that.
Brand new becomes old news
a week or two after that.
I hate the state we're in
and the intent of the state,
I see through your mind state.
I state this again.
This flag isn't so pretty
when it covers all the needy
hiding between alleys.
The concept of a patriot
in the grand scheme of things
reeks of such a fallacy.

What's a message
brought to one
when one is interrupted
by a text message?
We all have a
laugh and move on.
Don't expect your
tribulations to end
for you angrily
denied my message
before I ever hit send.
Land of the trend,
home of the slaves.
It's a cold world today.
Our grandfathers would
surely roll in their graves.
It's hard to stay motivated
stuck in a game solely dictated by
appealing to the masses to get paid.

Land of the trend,
home of the slave.
Land of the trend,
home of the slaves.
I hope my words
can reach you someday
when we aren't living in
the land of the trend,
the home of the slaves.
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