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Carlo C Gomez Mar 25
Salvation comes with a price--

Pried open doors,
choir songs of fingerdust
resurrecting goldrush,
and a pretty little
cromulent called whitewash.

New century martyrs
have risen up to burn books,
and quotes,
and tongues,
and every contrariwise thought,
--is this intuition or inquisition?

What ascends is trapped within
tenebrific clouds,
returning to barren ground
when it rains unholy prayers.

They don't crusade for you or me.
They contest for dominion and mastery.
Those who believe are mooncalf.

This torchlight of intolerance
sends out skyrockets,
and away it goes!
trending on your homepage:

Past generations
burning at the stake,
at the hands of sinners clothed as saints,
in cathedral oblivion,
dismembering their future
in the blood of their own children.


Kate Lion Sep 2014
swear a lot
yell with the loudest voice
take control of the media
make very loud and convincing claims that everyone is a racist, bigoted, hatemonger
dodge every question that has a "yes or no" answer

you just won the votes of the ignorant idiots of America.
but the truth will always prevail.
and all foundations that are based on false ideas will fall.
so the silent sages will wait.
Kagey Sage Dec 2013
I’m in the same place as all of yous, but I’m absent minded and got misanthropic contempt, like anthropomorphic deer by the highway watching Cadillac surgery. But deep cardiac compassion, all you idiots are inside of me, lashing out with lively love. Scorns used to scar, but now I smile. **** the struggle you’re on, and put your shoes on the final platform. It’s not truth mama, it’s death. Have you tried it? Me either, we’re both among breathers. Now, tell me about your facts in expressions unconditioned by human history. Tell me about those bats on your shoulders that babble obscenities like Black Beard’s parrot, named ******. He speaks not of this century, so his “*****” are now children’s songs, sung around plastic bonfires, trying to roast electrical socket covers. To no avail.  

Born human mightiest
Socially slighted and far-sighted
Let’s bash through hierarchy
I said bash
you P.C. crusader
cold as a computer
slaughtering the people’s good language
in the name of removing something savage
instead of asserting a new image
A true sign of the artist
but I’m no artist

— The End —