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Zywa Sep 19
There is no beauty

with the dishes, not even --


a dream of real life.
Poem "No Images" (1924, William Waring Cuney), sung a cappella in 1966 by Nina Simone (album "Let it all out") --- Collection "Within the walls"
bird droppings
from the skies I'd plummet
into the arms
of the open road
of the paved places
of the winding canal
of the idle city sleeping

drowsy in my somberness
quiet in my pain, I labored
spilling my blood with a copper's clamor
the din of supper, scraping rusting fork & spoon
'pon tin plate
to hear ravens' drowning cries
rattling in the tin can of my empty mind
searching for the truths devoured
by many come before
who wound me dearly
who loved me,
dearly
and craved every drop of blood
succored
every morsel of marrow
how they loved me,
my flavor
my scent
craved the texture of my soul
that decadent, succulent chew
the note of my fermented heart
the painsteaking cuisine of my hopes & fears
no monster could dare
devour
as humans do,
as humans do...

as human devour
whom they love...

and wherever you go
finding me,
as aimless trails
of loose change, on sidewalks
on open roads
in parking lots,
in the hot sun or shade
know they wandered there
in drunken stupors
as I fell out of the gullets
of their wanton avarice,
they lost me perpetually
spreading my worth,
as they spread their disease
cloven hooves clopping, clapping, clipping their way
away from the devastation
of the feast of my dying
like banks
emptying in my ruin
of the wake of my demise
their empires, falling
fiat failing
loose change spooling
like my passions,
my yearning for pleasures of flesh
they ***** every woman I ever adored
society,
in the desert of that lustful ******,
disemboweling...
establishments, perishing
grants, drying up
riverbeds, swamp-like
don't forget
how they,
you,
chose the love of money
over me,
as you butchered me,
like choice cattle
no golden calf could ever beat veal
no price could hold sway over the madness of their deal
how demons waited
gap-toothed smiles twinkling
eyes dark, cold, wanting, hungry
accepting every handshake with glorified glee
malice of eternities, met with mirth,
poured over sinful charity,
from those who destroyed the good
despite the evils that would follow

I was the innocence - the sacrifice,

they enjoyed every taste of my youth,
my joy, my spirit, my screams,

they enjoyed every taste of my innocence
despite every harrow,
nestled
in every mouthful,
like broken glass filling
in fillet mignon
******
good
fun...

and here I am
this one's yours
your own pretty penny
with no thoughts to spare
for your pennies could never purchase my thoughts
for my thoughts are worlds of real estate
no longer on the market
closed
like never-never land
a tombstone reads:

"Here lies,
he who never lived,
for living was too high a price,
for the world to bear being free,
due his freedom,
therefore, he died,
that they may remain slaves
to the devil's delights,
evermore..."

and no one was there
to proclaim forgiveness
that they, who ransacked, knew not what they did
for they, who ransacked, did know
and yet persisted
for the sake of their own yields of riches,
***, and a deep-rooted
desperate sin
called,

"greed"
Horrors looming on the horizon,
for them to seem pretty(er),
better to accept their approach,
than to run and be devoured from behind,
as if that sinful cowardice
worthy only of lucifer, satan, and the devil,
or any anti-christ,
changes one's fate...
Man Mar 6
What were the temples
Of the tribes, Judea
Brothels of slave Shepards
Of child lovers
And Christiandom was it's continuation, post revolt
Back it all goes back to Rome
Further back than that
To Greece
But ultimately the nomads who settled
In the land we call Egypt
These are the freaks
The monsters throughout history
Who eat of their own young and
Lay with them
Who manipulated what were the Pagans
Who continued on slavery, after the
End of its practice.
Cybele & Attis,
The cults that taught
Drugging as a tool
To manipulate behavior
Bend the rules, in their favor
Far off in Europe and since
The civil war, in America
And it was Truman's gang
That hijacked us
They have been hijacking
Various belief and countries,
For as long as there have been them.
We got back control
With some of us Americans getting in
And then they shot that young man
Going through Dallas, Texas
And ever since, it has been
Foreign elements pulling strings
Foul false Americans
Because they made of us
Of our conservative society
One of shame, one of privacy
Where normal people like you and me
Are afraid to speak out for what is right
In the face of ignorance
In the stead of savagery
They blackmailed and extorted our politicians
Right before our very eyes
I tell you, wake up
Be political, and only trust Americans
Including our southern siblings
Common people like us
Who merely wish to live free lives
I am not in favor of isolationism or xenophobia and I have no qualms with anyone who worships God. The Lord is righteous, it is man who is corruptible
Man Jul 2023
What man under modernity, is free?
Comparative to the peasantry preceding
We must seem to be
Shackled to a strange form
Of self-induced slavery
Ignatius Hosiana Jun 2023
Finally, the door emerged, bound in chains they stood,
Immobile and oppressed, their spirits misunderstood.
A blinding light ahead, rendering them sightless, blind,
Their burdened minds weighed by the ashes left behind.

Pressed together, yearning for one backward glance,
Denied even a fleeting chance, their hearts in a trance,
Before stepping through the door of no return,
Leaving lives and homes, forever spurned.

In that somber moment, sorrow weighed heavy on their hearts,
Facing the musky boat, unsure if a new day would start.
Crossing the threshold, bidding farewell to their past,
Embracing the unknown, the die of doom was cast.

With a resounding thud, the door closed, severing ties and fears,
Silent weeping, lost in the sea of their silent tears.
Bound for distant shores, spirits eternally broken,
wrapped in cold melancholy, their tragic story spoken.
nick armbrister Aug 2022
Peace Profit
Made in a country near you
Things to do a job
What type of job?

To heal to **** to create to destroy
All in the ACME factory
Ready steady go get to work!
Fulfil your shift

Do your quota
Finish the order yesterday
There's much work to be done

You busy little bees
Make the fat boss rich
Capitalist wage slaves
Even the commies are the same

Make some more do the work
Enrich the rich you ******
There's no profit in laziness or peace
We are all environmental commodities
Nora Sayed May 2022
You have failed to accept the truth
Here you are following their semantic rules
Playing the role of a social robot
One that is being brainwashed non stop

It has become a form of art
That ripped your thoughts apart
Indulged you in its pratices
Wrapping you around its clutches

While you rest, they create your reality
Making their words your best rhapsody
When in fact, it's just a treading enemy
Reinforced linguistically and sanctioned culturally

You work hard towards the prosperity of the opressor
And to those who dare fight, you take extreme measures
You have a lopsided point of view of a rigid world
Yet you do nothing to change it and appear undisturbed

Isn't it time to emancipate yourself aginst such actions?
Form your own truth and make your own decisions?
Educate yourself and free your mind
Leave what you thought is the truth behind.
Ryan Joseph Apr 2022
every reality I thought there is;
a point of becoming someone else
though not knowing
that it was just a bogus reality;
that I was just a slave of my own reality.
Oh! you've forgotten this familiar voice so soon?
I am the laborer you employed on your snow field
When your frozen farm could not stand
I was he, who brought you loam from my mother's graveyard
The lurking waves are near
I am come knocking the moonlight door
It is me, the Afrikana
Will you open Sir?
Or just look me at the window and chide me once more.

Oh! landlord, you've forgotten this dark child so soon?
I am the tenant you welcomed into your garage
As your kitten took my place in the guest room
I have come with a basket of thorns woven by my people
For a share of what solely belongs to my ancestors
I am come knocking the moonlight door
It is me, the Afrikana
Will you open Sir?
Or just look me at the window
And hide me in your balcony.

It is me, the Afrikana
I am come on mother's last errand
With a golden necklace handsomely beaten from her shackles
I am come with your cross Sir
Knocking, knocking
It is me, the Afrikana
Will you open the moonlight door?
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