#brainwash
~
*No malls on weekends
No feathers for tourism
No stopping to read the graffiti
No having lunch with relative hysteria
No making friends and acquaintances
In the paperless world
And no *** music
You see, the common faith is doubt
All wonder, no reason
The hole in your pocket
Becomes the hole in your head
And the last lawsuit
You'll ever need*
~
Sep 21, 2023
Sep 21, 2023 at 1:11 PM UTC
where are you located on front street?
i'm the last house on the end
which end?
depends on which end you're coming from
is it on the right or the left?
it depends which way you're facing
well, how do i get to you from the south side?
from the south, i am north
from the north, i am south
from the east, i am west
from the west, i am east
so...where are you coming from?
i guess i don't know until i find out where you're located!
Sep 30, 2021
Sep 30, 2021 at 7:08 PM UTC
Accepting quantum fuzziness and discreteness,
u-h-d allows the idea of seeing one thing is not the other,
über aber ich weis nicht
focus, this is spiritual, not religious, this is inner-bubble space,
pick a hat, here's a Dumbo feather
… "and called it macaroni."
A line forms an ancient meme, in the Spirit of America,
dancing children singing and waving tri-colors,
performing grammar school maypole pageants
in conjunction with the ashtorothean rites called passion,
feeling earth warm to the dance of our
sowing of the seed, celebrate, the coming of the sun
to the appointed time as time is measured
on the stone that bhers witness to our we formed spirit.
We are walkers along the spiral, twisting this way then
to that once,
you felt me make a point you felt was your tic to on point,
alert,
predictions pile in unverifiable belivable, but easy to believe,
life is good, in terms of essential being, elemental preceptions
glimpse of something super-semantic tic super symmetrick
not having seen hell, from the perspective of the conqueror,
leaves any weapon fit to fight the reality hell forms
unique,
unlike any weapon as yet imagined better, truth as a concept
any mind may form to hold,
from holding nothing, as a thought, then in a word caught
as thought
think this is the trick to quantum being, be
a bit.
See how it does feel to be real, ah, as in Wings of Desire,
I knew I did not suffer through that film in vain.
Anthro-poor-morphed angels imagined as unread messages,
felt where good is the only thing ever
felt real,
as real as any angel's kiss, but just a kind word heard, as thought.
Jun 8, 2021
Jun 8, 2021 at 4:04 PM UTC
A brainwash seems a good idea
give it a scrub and hang to dry in the breeze
summer fresh and cleaned of ******
let the wind refresh your mind
while you find a comfy chair
to sit and wait for it to air
May 3, 2021
May 3, 2021 at 3:04 AM UTC
You're only pretty
If you wear this
have this
are this
You're only cool
If you smoke this
drink this
own this
You need it NOW
Before it's gone!
A new and improved you
(Until we tell you otherwise)
Jul 18, 2020
Jul 18, 2020 at 10:42 AM UTC
the world is getting too bright
i cant tell that something isn't right
something else is dripping
from the tears in my skin
you told me not to
let the darkness in in
but you left
so what's the point
let's set fire
to this joint
the matches are there
no need to stare
reach into my pocket
nothing you can to stop it
not anymore
i'll start this chaos
i've got people to brainwash
this is what happens when you abandon me
i told you but i guess you wanted to see
burn down the room
decorate your tomb
gave you my heart
but you decided to spend it
gave you life
now it's my turn to end it
Aug 31, 2019
Aug 31, 2019 at 5:04 PM UTC
Dark,bleak days are coming, darker yet ahead,
Would say I am sorry, but won't 'cause I'll be dead.
Sour land below us and angry sky above,
And those who seek to control us, have morons sell us love.
We've severed the connections, not our fault we didn't mean,
We're under the protection of almighty mobile screen.
I'd rather I was mental, I'd rather that I was gone,
In the world that ***** on metal, I cannot be or belong.
I know the tastes wildly differ, and can tear people apart,
But I'll never ever consider, to consume that which you call art.
Jul 1, 2019
Jul 1, 2019 at 12:06 AM UTC
days passed by like a minute long
the kid became a grown, and still can't get along
his head was filled with hatred when he was young
grown up to see a world where he doesn't belong
everyone is an enemy if they do not speak his tongue
to a piece of paper he has worshiped and clung
praised a killer whom with a sword has swung, over the heads of Civilians who were overhung
was taught not to think, so to the reason he tried to slung
was told not to say what is in heart, kept the words under his tongue
he always knew it was all wrong, but doesn't want them to be unstrung
-
next step, used to hear but not to perform
used to feel the lie even in its best form
used to see the elders but not to inform
nor even to adapt nor to find the conform
time by time knew that his mind was in a deform
however his mind still suffering from them worms
and only 'the reason' was the way to reform
but can't to the society nor to himself transform
nowhere to hide from the freeze...nowhere is warm
death was the only one way to leave the swarm
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 4:02 AM UTC
Civilized life is rigged, O land-dwellers!
With landmines hidden
in trails of Society's doctrine,
'Too often is it stepped on,
Too often does it explode.'
Blowing constitutions to smithereens,
Where you then rummage within your nucleus
to piece together your scattered jigsaw,
Misplacing your natural elements,
Overcasting your ability to side with beauteous aspects in simplicity—
Of those ethereal-resplendent butterflies.
Disillusioned on land thus is you (the complex you).
Let go—
Rise above your materialistic graves—
Walk on air!
My kindred wisps
Walk on air!
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 4:56 AM UTC
How can you say you hate them?
And not realize the irony
How can you hate your own race?
Do you not hear in yourself “that’s a part of me”?
You attempt to distance yourself by making jokes at their expense.
Try to disguise it as humor, but I can see past your pretense.
All of your white friends, whom with you wish to blend,
Will follow suit, then use you as a scapegoat by saying
“Nah, it’s cool man. I have an Asian friend.”
Don't you realize, with your own words you're cutting yourself down
Don’t do this to yourself man, you are not a clown-
To be laughed at and mocked
Neither are the others whom this ridicule has flocked
Be proud of who you are, and from where you came.
Pass yourself off as a joke and others will do the same.
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 1:09 AM UTC
"The instructor said:
Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you-
Then, it will be true. " -Theme for English B by Langston Hughes
Ten minutes.
Is that all it takes?
To pour a piece of my soul,
Onto this page?
If it were up to the schooling system,
I could write and write and write.
But not a word of it would be True.
Not a word of it would be me.
Not a shard of my soul would be seen.
If given the chance I could write for hours
Page after page
Verse after verse
No need to stop or slow down
I know that my own Voice, I have already found.
I could talk about the love, the hurt
Anything others wanted to hear.
Or I could write about absolutely nothing.
Does writing about nothing count as something?
If the words on the page mean nothing to me,
Should I still be congratulated on the "good" work that they see?
My eyes are dead as I am praised for the work I forgot I wrote.
Because I didn't mean a single note.
This sometimes makes school simple.
If I say what they want to hear,
Then I pass and move to the next class,
While graduation grows near.
But what if I lose my Voice?
As so many others have.
I think that I would go mad.
Ah, it would seem my time is up.
Tell me then,
Was ten minutes enough?
Did I place a piece of my soul in this poem?
Or did it mean nothing to me,
As so much of our educational writing does.
Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 10:02 PM UTC
Where the tides of Magnus swell
And his thundering roars beat lightning to hell.
We've been living in a maze.
We've been digging up our graves.
We've been throwing up our brains,
Yet these quakes will still go on.
Sickles and hammers
And tall corporate buildings, portly businessmen.
The windows and towers they will smash because of the beast inside their heads.
Black and white
Good and evil
Are there two sides? Four, eight? Or are there billions of coloured pixels;
Each twinkling their own ideologies.
But once they blend, like watercolours,
The wars commence and their crimes they won't repent.
Our conditioned brains
Entertained by an electronic screen, or perhaps a print of lies on paper.
And we will curse, wail or put other opinions on bail.
Will we live a life of sepia, of black and white?
Or will we respect all sides of that rubix cube which becomes ever more difficult to solve.
The algorithms twist, intertwine, sever
But there is not one single lever- we can pull
to save our bleeding earth.
The quakes will go on
We will not have a break from them.
We are veterans of psychological corruption;
And our armour and weapons are destroyed.
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 10:39 AM UTC
One thing I know is that we're captured in the frames
Of dead and dying pictures when suppression was a name
Ever since that day, nothings' been the same
When our dead and dying frames were laid to rest in graves
The company we kept,
Aware of beast that slept
The loyalty we paid to earn
Via trust, it was a test
Concepts of romance
Led us an exhausting dance
With lust untamed, demons unnamed
With each rattling breath we exhaled
And the graves still look the same
Here lies dignity,
My memories, my sanity
Self-esteem and vanity
Ripped apart antiquity
And after all this, finally
Accepted into society!
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 8:15 PM UTC
I am liberated,
Though still under ownership of the master class.
I am free to think, to express.
My limbs are bound to the path by regulations and expectations.
But my eye is free to wander as it pleases,
Because I've allowed myself to look beyond the road we walk on.
To the left of it,
to the right.
Tilting my head toward the sun, I see only energy in the form of flames.
A sign to me that the tiny bit of energy comprising myself is capable of being much more than what it is in this moment.
This is something I needed to know,
those walking beside me must be told.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 10:06 AM UTC
To not integrate
To bring men, all of men
Faceless men
To a cave
To be amongst but never within
Where nameless figures
Bound by archaic scripts
And lies
Killing in the name of God
All in the name of God
Bound by the undefined
And lies
Twisted to resemble
Art
Despicable art
And more lies
Creating monsters
Through no fault of their own, yet monsters.
It can not be golden
It will never be golden
You can not infuse beauty by telling gilded lies
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 12:13 PM UTC
1969 Cult Mentality: Charles Manson
is asking you to “leave a sign… something witchy” at the scene of the
crime. You listen because you believe he is Jesus. You smear the word
“Pig” across the door.
1978 Cult Mentality: Jim Jones
is asking you to drink grape Kool-Aid infused with cyanide. You do this
because you have been convinced that he is “Christ the Revolution.” You
inject your child with the toxin before gulping it down.
1997 Cult Mentality: Marshall Applewhite
is asking you to tie a plastic bag around your head after you consume a mixture of phenobarbital, applesauce, and ***** You do this because you believe dying will take you to the spacecraft flying behind
Comet Hale-Bopp. You make sure you have a
five dollar bill and three quarters
in your pocket for the interplanetary toll.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 6:38 AM UTC
Don't push them
You're moulding them instead of letting them flow
You're stunning their movement, you're not letting them grow
I like being pushed
I am superior and better than my peers
They've taken over my body and they are the ones who steer
Is this wrong?
Is this right?
Is this my desired flight
The Devils are pitched on both shoulders
I can't take over until I've grown older
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 6:25 AM UTC
Nursery rhyme, nursery rhyme,
Tell me what to fear this time.
Spin around. Down to the ground.
That's where all dead kids are found.
Nursery rhyme, nursery rhyme,
Tell of broken bows that break.
Sing of ash and mourning face.
Tell me lord my soul he'll take.
Nursery rhyme, nursery rhyme
Hide abuse between the lines.
Give excuse for pain and dread.
With happy sound this song is read
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 9:03 AM UTC
Why can't I love you like I used to?
Now I just want you to go away
So I can breathe and be happy,
But that isn't going to happen.
You have captivated all of the people I care about,
If I were to leave then I would have nobody.
I am all alone,
Even when surrounded
By the ones you have brainwashed.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 6:18 PM UTC
Humanity is tainted and now leaking everywhere
In a world where people jump out
airplanes after stacks of money
To a din of sirens blaring,
War drums thrumming
Funny you'll do nothing;
It's a racket designed to create the distraction
To the hidden monsters flying in the night sky
Ever secure, beneath a crux of watchful eyes
Masters of disguise bend your will to their lies
Subconsciously shapeshifting acquiescence in the absence of light
They operate in obscurity
Conglomerates of impunity
Urgency manifests necessity
With a propensity for depravity
Slaves lulled to a fake sense of security with false promise of luxury
Compulsively regurgitating propaganda in delusory quandary
Happy little sheep march willingly to the teeth of the Serpent machine
Ominous omniscience mixes with
Sensations of bodilessness
In a state of godlessness
Whenever my conscious surfaces in this clandestine system
I sell my soul to purchase debt and let repercussions fall upon my children
A paradigm; with no ethics the center is an idol,
and the world had forever idolized the god money, Belial
Imagine
A carnival pageant, with parades of tyrants tirading
and masquerading on the world's stage as lavish savages
With overwhelming power in hand,
I'll bring an end to it all
If you gaze for long into the abyss
It will stare back into your soul
Pay homage to barrages of sacred false knowledge/unacknowledged
It lodges to your consciousness as it takes you hostage
You think you're open-minded but suffer from mental spillage
Then brain begins hemorrhaging like a glitch in the matrix
Global massacre is imminent
Our abandonment's no accident
Caricatures of government act as the Devil's advocates
Insane It's us against them
Zionist Superfriends deciding trends
designing and framing an outline of the endgame just for sh¡ts-n-gigs
Hands reach through the tapestry pulling you in and unrelenting,
Secretly from behind the scenes
Portraits of dishonesty
Stripping you of all life and liberty
Symphonies of screams
systematize in perfect symmetry
Enslaving and slaying humankind -
They've exacted brainwashing
to the science of chemistry
And mold your mind
with the subtlest alchemy
Media blackout;
Credits tapped out
Better act now
before the stock markets
collapse down
What's your plan when **** hits the fan,
will you follow The Man or fail condemned?
Now bow at the feet of the ministry of tyranny,
Head lowered in defeat preparing for the guillotine
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 8:32 PM UTC