Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
"How?" I am asked.

Tax. Incremental siphoning.
"Service changes"

"Greedy!" I am accused.

Relax. Manufactured crash.
"Bad economy."

"Incompetent!" It is exclaimed I am.

Facts. Distort reality.
"Fake or foreign elements."

"Fascist!" It is said of me.

Craps. Gambled living.
"Sweating like a ***** in church."

"Pig!" I am called.

Animals. **** philosophy.
"Your life should be in service."

"Dictator!" It is written of me.

Preach. Misinterpret history.
"And God rested on the seventh day."

"Monster!" It is all that's left of me.

Kingly. Total war.
"On the first day, God said,"
So far as I see things today,
You cannot have a policy
Centered on ambiguity
And expect people
To take you at your word!
Even take you as being serious!

Seriously, you guys! Seriously!
There's a monster on the way!
To borrow from an absurdist, comedic series.

Yet, the point was lost anyways!
But, of course, that was about climate change...
Or maybe it was about listening to experts...
Or maybe it was about acting rather than reacting...
Or maybe...
Oh right. I forgot.
There's actually ******* out there
Who are serious
About their homophobia.
About hate of
Consenual relations
Between any grown individuals
Which doesn't conform
To their perspective of love.
Righteous love.
Fanatic heterosexuals.
Ay, I can't knock women.
Obviously,
There's so much more
To loving a partner.
So much more
To a loving partner.
The life you build together,
What you do with it.
But let's hone in
On dictating individuality
And harming individual rights.

Oh right. I forgot.
There's this thing
Called the constitution.
Oh right. I forgot.
There's these things
Called amendments.

Silly me,
I guess I was on
A personal "freak."
Silly me,
I guess I waged
A personal "streak."

Oh right. I forgot.
There's this thing
Called proper interpretation.
Oh right. I forgot.
There's these things
Called existing judgements.

Ah, ****!
I guess I'm against
State & church seperation.
Ah, shucks!
I guess I'm for
Totalitarian fascism.
But, but, you can't have state & church in fascist societies!
But, but, you can't have dissenting opinions in totalitarian systems!
One might call the leading sentiments today feudal in nature and/or completely autocratic.
Nebylla 7d
Mama told me we're just playing hide and seek
with men pretending they're police. I love to play
hide and seek. Don't you too?

We are hiding in my neighbour's closet and
I'm giggling. My mama holds her hand over
both our mouths. I and my

mama sit together quietly but I
am hearing grown-ups yell outside. I ask my
Mama why? No reply.

Then I heard a man and mama's face was ice.
He sounded very angry and he asked me where
we are hid. Then I jumped,

yelled at him: peekaboo!

Now it's my story – and others – you read on the news,
hidden by the oversaturated, gold photo
of the front-man; my miserable life made by him
Written April 2025,
just a first draft, will probably fix it one day.
Based loosely on a story I heard from a friend in the US
They breathe in steel,
lungs filled with smoke
from the hollow of forgotten cities,
where rust is the only voice they know.

Hands scrape skin,
too cold to touch
fingerprints burned to wire,
in a song no one remembers.

The streets bleed
in rhythms that never leave
boots press the pulse flat,
repeating orders not their own.

A child’s cry,
a fracture in the dark,
but they hear only
the grinding of their feet,
the hum of metal on metal
and nothing more.
D Apr 5
I’d cut you out
Toss you to the starving wolves
Let them pick apart your lumbering mass
But even under your mask
You’re insignificant at best.

Leave you to your own
Let you fester despite your growth
Because no matter what you do,
In eyes that stare back at you
In all that you stir and stew
With propaganda songs,
And protesting vigils;
Assembly halls full of sycophants.
When the lights go out,
You’re all alone.

No you see the truth is:

All that you are,
And could ever be,
Is benign.
BLT’s word of the day challenge.
Websters word of the day: Benign
Definition: of a mild type or character that does not threaten health or life
especially : not becoming cancerous
a benign lung tumor
b
: having no significant effect : HARMLESS
environmentally benign
Aster Mar 30
cursed gods,
don't make blessed humans
cursed devotion,
doesn't make a conscientious society
cursed patriotism,
doesn't make a great nation
cursed community, though,
does make a great solidarity
                    a great humanity
                    a mighty
                         revolutionary
                         collective consciousness
iff (if and only if)
         the cursed motherland
         blesses it's children
         drives wedges between
         the hostile oppressor
         and the devoted native

a cursed community,
   doesn't need a God
                      or a hero
   it needs devotion
               unto each other

your land will take care of you~
I am my mother’s son,
Born of her blood, her breath, her fight,
A cord cut but never severed,
Who dares strike the root of me?
I’d burn the hand that bruises her,
Yet cowards in red caps cheer the blow.
Grinning, hollow men led by a swine.

I am my sister’s brother,
Shield to her storm, her echo, her kin,
Her voice a storm they fear to hear,
What man stands proud to choke her out?
Not one with a spine, not one I’d name,
They root and crawl, their bellies in mud
Marching blind, in red and orange shame.

I am my wife’s husband,
Vowed to her soul, her strength, her choice,
A bond they’d cage in rusted law.
Who spits on love and calls it right?
I’d shred their banners, topple their lies,
But they strut, grinning, pigs in ties.
Let their orange master squeal as it dies.

I am my daughter’s father,
Guardian of her dreams, her dawn, her infinite skies,
A world they would shrink to fit their palm.
What beast would claw his own child’s wings?
None but the vermin parading as men,
None worthy of the air she breathes,
Yet here they squeal, orange and obscene.

I am a man, not a blade to wield,
Not a fist to raise against my own,
My mother, sister, wife, daughter,
All women, all roots, all mirrors of me.
To wound them is to bleed myself,
So why do these men not cringe to see?
They march with pride toward their own ruin.

Shame should choke them, silence their roar,
Every man’s a mother’s son,
And no man’s soul survives the sin
Of striking hands that shaped his core.
MAGA swine can squeal and preen,
They’ll reap the rot they’ve sown in green.
Their ruin the debt to the women they’ve torn.
Sudzedrebel Mar 29
Honor your ancestors, yes?
But some take that to extremes.
Even going so far
As to apply it to themselves,
In the physical sense & mental.
That being the oldest of them,
Instinct & emotion.

For to them the mind is wasted,
For them the body is nothing.
For them the mind is nothing,
For to the body of it is wasted.

In the sense that they are anymore
Man than any other kind of animal,
A concept so tiringly clung to.
So thoroughly discussed is mankind
That its philosophies are disgusting,
Unrecognizably distorted.
Those in actuality & reality,
Cloaked by sick games of telephone.

For to honor pridefulness,
For to shame modesty.
For from pride is derived honor,
For from shame is made modest.

If by death die the lies,
Then execution is the only honesty.
Then dying is the truest mercy.

For therein, what is just?

If in the journey of life
We have neglected to have collected
That of the mind;
If in the path of destiny
We have stalled not to have gathered
That of the soul:
To have connection to nothing,
Free from attachment,
But not to have been liberated.

For three are the siblings.

Yet, thee are siblings;
How shamefully you treat family,
How scornful you are of relatives.
Friends? No!
Acquaintances? Not!
Neighbors? Get lost!
What fields you salt
With crops you allow rot,
Clipping the stems of the spoiled
And smashing in the ripened.

Countless leaves of these branches.
Think it's political, but it's really spiritual;
Think it's spiritual, but it's really political.
Culture like a series of judgements & verdicts.

I quite like the concept Moirai.

If it isn't one thing, it's another!
Sudzedrebel Mar 29
In the boastful, casual manner you portray,
You betray your actual lack of ruthlessness.

The act is a fun game,
But the consequences are heavy.

If no one buys what you're selling,
Suffice to say you're starving.
If it causes greater harm or grief,
Suffice to say you're swinging.

For others yet are playing,
But play not.

For behind many faces hide wide smiles,
By many frames are different the pictures.
For the floors all are dusted.

Be ruthless in gentleness & kindness.
Next page