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Seán Mac Falls May 2016
.
From their private jets,
The primal privileged
Spot a spark earthwards,
The glint of the rolling
Out of guillotines.

Guillotines so tall, waiting,
Just for them and they know
It was coming, as they know
They have it coming.

The rabble they so despise,
Yet pander for as they pull
Wool and leave all in cold,
The wretched who someday
Read injustice in the leaves,
The Princes of sham, cloven,
Always bearing woven bags,
Carpet dreams of desperate,
Down trodden, never fearing
To be trampled, till the blade
Is shining in the searing light
Of new day.

For retribution is a fable
The reptilian upper classes
Are cold to see as it strikes,
Their forked tongues,
Eventual as slimy winter
Strangles themselves
In a hollow cave,
Unmarked.

Even the dirt is soiled
With their fame, their
Scaled names, even
Sun will not shine
On the bloodied blots
They have wrought.

Such murderous stiffs,
Who enslaved all warmth
And empathizers in a rug
Fit for a tomb.  And all their
Art as false as they!

The earthy shall rise
And salt their mortal
Wounds, songs will not be sung
For the indifferent masters
Who now pour into streets
Made for severed muck.

The only beauty they left:
Opulent, soppy-red coiffured heads
As they roll on the potholed,
Sooty pavements.
Sameer Denzi Jun 2015
Maybe they feared a revolution
Or maybe it was just chauvinism
But for whatever reason
They would not let his voice be heard
By the suffering masses
Of the decaying metropolis

But his voice was heard somehow
In a land far far away
Where everything was seen in black and white
But the people longed for the rainbow's delight

His haunting voice filled their void
His piercing lyrics became their spear
His aura became their guiding light

Like a miracle unexpected
A revolution occurred
And the rainbow emerged

Meanwhile,
The Sugar Man still drifted unheard
In his grey urban wilderness
A case of real-life being stranger than fiction.
Inspired by the real-life story of Sixto "Sugar Man" Rodriguez. See "Searching for Sugar Man" and you'll know what I mean. Truly inspiring. Truly Amazing.
A peaceful man in a belligerent nation
Delivering messages of hope station to station
Through words of power and words of encouragement
Supplying the spiritually needy with nourishment
Don't stop, because this place needs an uprising
Creativity is dead and authority is hypnotizing
Daylight 4U2C Apr 2014
My hand and gripped hair
The threats?
"I CAN rip you out, I just CHOOSE not to."
Is is fear, despair, madness, loathe?
The answer is empty of meaning.
What is known would be ignored,
as all said seems true,
but fake.
Boundlessly vain.
silly,
worthless;
doubtful.
What am I looking for in this effort?

I know.
I see.
I hear.
I believe.
One thought twigs into another.
I even wonder if the ocean can breathe.
Breathe life into me.
Aliens don't exist,
but nightmares and demons do?
A problem,
unwanted.
A result,
unwanted.
An answer,
only a lie,
....
unwanted, unwanted, oh so unwanted.

I scream inside,
and every inner glass is shattered.
I yell,
"Notice of Insanity Uprising!"
They yell back,
"That's Life."
Upon those words I numb my mind,
I release my grip.
I let go of everything.
MY face: gone
MY body: gone
MY hope: gone gone gone
Anything and everything that was me leaves,
and my body becomes a cadaver.
Drifting side to side,
in and out.
It's more calm now though.
My mind is no longer driving me crazy.

For we have reached our destination.

— The End —