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#brainwashing
Yes. No one controls anything. Why would they? " Move at the speed the system demands . " Work sheets, home work , dead lines. Manufactured scarcity from desk to cubicle. Manufacturing fear. “ School spirit” + Nationalism = War. Manufactured urgency. Now, now now. Go, Dog Go ! Another news cycle you’ll never be a part of unless you break in a way they don't allow . Sunday Schools most important lesson , sit down. Shut up. Do as you’re told . Nobody cares about your f---- ing opinion. Get back in line. ‘Bringing in the sheep’, indeed . You ever see how they pack them, the little baby chicks? That’s the whole plan right there , plain as day. No space. No air. Just bodies pressed in until ‘survival “ can only become friction. Chicken friction = slaves in white collars. No one teaches standards or dignity. ( not for free ) Stack them , Fred Trump higher. Call it pre- sorted corporate efficiency. Synchronicity. Ask anybody who's ever had a fast food job where they couldn't keep up. Can’t obey? Try to make it on the street with no EBT. To noisy ? Won’t “ calm down, sir !” Oh, You’re gonna love the stripes in the next place... Concrete. Steel cages. ‘ Moves’ smaller than the meal trays. Another unwanted pregnancy crammed into your cell every other day. Eugenics plan B. And you think THAT’S the bottom? Not even close. Get back in line before they strap you down. Electro shock and needle showers till you... still . More forced injections. The vaccine label slips off the BIG OIL mercury as they Pump you full of whatever keeps you quiet. Gives you autism, Cancer. " it's genetic " = your fault... In the Loony bin there’s little , movement. No sky. No choice. the more clearly realized baby chicken tray. Not even allowed to check out early. A fate worse than hell, with no death just existing. On their terms. At the speed the system demands. And still somewhere up above it all, another Fred Trump hands it off to another little baby Donny, born outside the chickadee packed trays. Now it's HIS job to tell you what freedom looks like. Tells you 2 % spending on welfare is the problem. " Hate the brown skins." " very fine people on both sides." Tells you less will somehow become more as you wait for it to " Trickle down". Let your ' Pep Rally' daughters twerk as they lust for them... anything to try and escape the tray Smile and vote red , As they cut , Meals on Wheels. Grade school Breakfast AND lunch programs, music, art, GONE never to return, not just starving your children physically, But creatively and emotionally. The GOP way . Hiding behind the " star of David " and Supreme Court bribes. you say you don't need me or to be told Old oil Money = power, then why is it still making choices for you,? not some random unknowable ghost in the machine. Policies don’t just appear handcuffed to a briefcase full of bearer bonds out of thin air. Cuts don’t just “ happen “ by Sheeny magic alone. Somebody’s processed boyscout - suit, signs them. Somebody ‘s PTA Oprah ****** -slob benefits. Now HE uses the Marines not just the local cops and the National Guard to keep the fear and the jails “ cranked beyond capacity” . “ why , can’t MY generals be more like Hitlers.” ? ? ? ... born outside the trays… never once cooked never shopped for groceries .. calls THAT freedom. Tariffs no one wants or deserves as punishment . For no reason but himself. Ego. Says less will SOMEHOW become more. Less food. Less art. Less music. Starve the body. Starve the mind. Starve whatever might have fought back. The old system doesn’t just break you. It trains you to break yourself. Faster. Come on. Faster. Go, dog. Go. Talk radio propaganda is your non stop fantasy coach that always puts you “in” another beloved by the community constant pedophile “ INSTRUCTOR” telling your kids “do it faster, baby . Yeah... oh, yeah, just like that, gimme more. One more time , don’t stop now.” Sports or animal ****** ? the only outlets you have given or shown them and you wonder why little Johnny can’t read as the bodies clog the “ busses only” lane in front of another school. slap another NRA sticker on their NFL lunch box. Another golden little chick waiting to be sorted stacked on top in trays as the waste falls used and discarded. Dr. Suess had it right. Go, dog. “Move at the speed the system demands.” Go !(It's not like they just woke up today and figured out that paying one guy to put a gun in your back is cheaper than paying us all. Never forget they can't survive without us, and there's more of us than them.) Oh, and don’t remember “ Think positive”. I mean after all ... They are watching.
0
Apr 4
Apr 4, 2026 at 2:43 PM UTC
Now Hiring : someone willing to " Move at the speed the system demands."
Yes. No one controls anything. Why would they? " Move at the speed the system demands . " Work sheets, home work , dead lines. Manufactured scarcity from desk to cubicle. Manufacturing fear. “ School spirit” + Nationalism = War. Manufactured urgency. Now, now now. Go, Dog Go ! Another news cycle you’ll never be a part of unless you break in a way they don't allow . Sunday Schools most important lesson , sit down. Shut up. Do as you’re told . Nobody cares about your f---- ing opinion. Get back in line. ‘Bringing in the sheep’, indeed . You ever see how they pack them, the little baby chicks? That’s the whole plan right there , plain as day. No space. No air. Just bodies pressed in until ‘survival “ can only become friction. Chicken friction = slaves in white collars. No one teaches standards or dignity. ( not for free ) Stack them , Fred Trump higher. Call it pre- sorted corporate efficiency. Synchronicity. Ask anybody who's ever had a fast food job where they couldn't keep up. Can’t obey? Try to make it on the street with no EBT. To noisy ? Won’t “ calm down, sir !” Oh, You’re gonna love the stripes in the next place... Concrete. Steel cages. ‘ Moves’ smaller than the meal trays. Another unwanted pregnancy crammed into your cell every other day. Eugenics plan B. And you think THAT’S the bottom? Not even close. Get back in line before they strap you down. Electro shock and needle showers till you... still . More forced injections. The vaccine label slips off the BIG OIL mercury as they Pump you full of whatever keeps you quiet. Gives you autism, Cancer. " it's genetic " = your fault... In the Loony bin there’s little , movement. No sky. No choice. the more clearly realized baby chicken tray. Not even allowed to check out early. A fate worse than hell, with no death just existing. On their terms. At the speed the system demands. And still somewhere up above it all, another Fred Trump hands it off to another little baby Donny, born outside the chickadee packed trays. Now it's HIS job to tell you what freedom looks like. Tells you 2 % spending on welfare is the problem. " Hate the brown skins." " very fine people on both sides." Tells you less will somehow become more as you wait for it to " Trickle down". Let your ' Pep Rally' daughters twerk as they lust for them... anything to try and escape the tray Smile and vote red , As they cut , Meals on Wheels. Grade school Breakfast AND lunch programs, music, art, GONE never to return, not just starving your children physically, But creatively and emotionally. The GOP way . Hiding behind the " star of David " and Supreme Court bribes. you say you don't need me or to be told Old oil Money = power, then why is it still making choices for you,? not some random unknowable ghost in the machine. Policies don’t just appear handcuffed to a briefcase full of bearer bonds out of thin air. Cuts don’t just “ happen “ by Sheeny magic alone. Somebody’s processed boyscout - suit, signs them. Somebody ‘s PTA Oprah ****** -slob benefits. Now HE uses the Marines not just the local cops and the National Guard to keep the fear and the jails “ cranked beyond capacity” . “ why , can’t MY generals be more like Hitlers.” ? ? ? ... born outside the trays… never once cooked never shopped for groceries .. calls THAT freedom. Tariffs no one wants or deserves as punishment . For no reason but himself. Ego. Says less will SOMEHOW become more. Less food. Less art. Less music. Starve the body. Starve the mind. Starve whatever might have fought back. The old system doesn’t just break you. It trains you to break yourself. Faster. Come on. Faster. Go, dog. Go. Talk radio propaganda is your non stop fantasy coach that always puts you “in” another beloved by the community constant pedophile “ INSTRUCTOR” telling your kids “do it faster, baby . Yeah... oh, yeah, just like that, gimme more. One more time , don’t stop now.” Sports or animal ****** ? the only outlets you have given or shown them and you wonder why little Johnny can’t read as the bodies clog the “ busses only” lane in front of another school. slap another NRA sticker on their NFL lunch box. Another golden little chick waiting to be sorted stacked on top in trays as the waste falls used and discarded. Dr. Suess had it right. Go, dog. “Move at the speed the system demands.” Go !(It's not like they just woke up today and figured out that paying one guy to put a gun in your back is cheaper than paying us all. Never forget they can't survive without us, and there's more of us than them.) Oh, and don’t remember “ Think positive”. I mean after all ... They are watching.
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104
An Apis hides her head in a hole to regurgitate nectar, the sticky ***** pouring from her mouth, only later to use that same mouth to feed her young and her queen, a life sustaining royal jelly. Perhaps my metaphor is flawed, for, even our own **** sapien royalty know they have to face it all alone. Face what alone? The Apis is never alone, she has her sisters. A simple life, though failure to keep her place – perform her tasks – results in death. In death? Perhaps following is not so simple, but maintain a hive mind and there is nothing to fear. Nothing to fear? Except the possession of a hive mind. That is the only way to not face it all alone: be just the same as all the rest. Act like them? Yes, darling, but more than that: You must think like them as well.
0
Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 5:12 PM UTC
Hive Mind
It started again The Voice Angry Insistent Demanding a response I didn't have one to give I curled into a ball on my bed Willing my body to shrink My mind to shut down I needed to be invisible so Maybe The Voice Would forget about me But it didn't I could hear it coming Closer Room to room Looking for me The door to my bedroom swung open But I couldn't look I squeezed my eyes tightly shut I didn't want to see the monster, I was afraid of what The Voice Would say next Now that it had found me But there was no sound Except that of raspy breathing I lay frozen for hours Waiting for movement that didn't come As echoes of words Silently stumbled past my ears They disappeared One-by-one Appearing next as drops Rolling down My cheeks I reached up To brush them away Reaffirming my resolve to avoid The Voice At all costs But this was different Breathing couldn't hurt me... Could it? I blinked and pupils constricted At the sudden addition of light To my world I scanned the room to find The Voice Not knowing what it would look like Just that I was about to see a monster I started to get up off the bed When I felt a tap tap On my shoulder Trying not to scream, I Slowly Turned to face The monster I had nightmares about And found myself staring Directly into my own Terrified Green eyes And that's when I knew This loud Furious Voice That yelled at me and told me I wasn't good enough, I would never be loved for myself, I had nothing to offer, Was mine I'd been running from myself all this time I hadn't wanted to see a monster But here I was Maybe it was time to lose This monster's Voice And find my own
0
Feb 27
Feb 27, 2026 at 7:57 PM UTC
The Monster's Voice
It started again The Voice Angry Insistent Demanding a response I didn't have one to give I curled into a ball on my bed Willing my body to shrink My mind to shut down I needed to be invisible so Maybe The Voice Would forget about me But it didn't I could hear it coming Closer Room to room Looking for me The door to my bedroom swung open But I couldn't look I squeezed my eyes tightly shut I didn't want to see the monster, I was afraid of what The Voice Would say next Now that it had found me But there was no sound Except that of raspy breathing I lay frozen for hours Waiting for movement that didn't come As echoes of words Silently stumbled past my ears They disappeared One-by-one Appearing next as drops Rolling down My cheeks I reached up To brush them away Reaffirming my resolve to avoid The Voice At all costs But this was different Breathing couldn't hurt me... Could it? I blinked and pupils constricted At the sudden addition of light To my world I scanned the room to find The Voice Not knowing what it would look like Just that I was about to see a monster I started to get up off the bed When I felt a tap tap On my shoulder Trying not to scream, I Slowly Turned to face The monster I had nightmares about And found myself staring Directly into my own Terrified Green eyes And that's when I knew This loud Furious Voice That yelled at me and told me I wasn't good enough, I would never be loved for myself, I had nothing to offer, Was mine I'd been running from myself all this time I hadn't wanted to see a monster But here I was Maybe it was time to lose This monster's Voice And find my own
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80
A twitch we have in an in between dream state where we once fell from trees so called ineffable SPRITUALITY ...  ha ,  some phantom limb syndrome for consciousness, a leftover reflex that serves no purpose except to make us weak and delusional. Mentally " a vestigial tail for morons"  savage spiritual belief in the same category of useless body parts we haven't shed yet .   I want your Spirituality  to pay the price of choosing comfort over evidence   for  soft   exploitation. Ghosts   belong in  your uncles    drunken campfire    stories, NOT    in   our  laws    or    educational policies. keep  your imaginary  demons the world already had enough of its own , Your guilt,     sadness    and    shame are   amplified  by their control that's not spirituality or    SALVATION.   Humans fix each other and clean up  the mess, no one else, not once , not ever. like monogamy   a   dead weight that     evolution hasn't gotten around to cutting off,     yet. Inculcated     meat machines     clinging  to these primitive  Appendixes.     Mental guilt   and shame daddy issue reflexes instead of accepting reality   Sorry Granny the Jews  lied to you             to us all. What were  you   before you were born ?    Yeah,  its like that. There's nothing   beyond what we can see and experience directly. Especially    not some    spirit like incorporeal     'ghost'        harp playing chain rattling     spirit ...    Spirit u ality ?      Wow,  seriously     yall What year  IS   this ? Nobody's   coming ! Not   then not now. Not for,    or from,    your outdated  evolutionary baggage. In an   in-between state     your leg twitches  hard as you sleep you're    stepping in a    hole falling     from a tree there  is  your so called spirituality. NO THANKS none for me. “Men yoke themselves to one God but keep a stable. They worship unity, then demand a chorus to sing their private fears.” ~ Nietzsche. ( He was so noble and brave, not only what he said, the time frame in which he said it and who he said it to.) Took more savvy and courage to do and say what he said than all the other lies all the churches hide behind put together.
0
Oct 22, 2025
Oct 22, 2025 at 4:26 AM UTC
Spirituality
A twitch we have in an in between dream state where we once fell from trees so called ineffable SPRITUALITY ...  ha ,  some phantom limb syndrome for consciousness, a leftover reflex that serves no purpose except to make us weak and delusional. Mentally " a vestigial tail for morons"  savage spiritual belief in the same category of useless body parts we haven't shed yet .   I want your Spirituality  to pay the price of choosing comfort over evidence   for  soft   exploitation. Ghosts   belong in  your uncles    drunken campfire    stories, NOT    in   our  laws    or    educational policies. keep  your imaginary  demons the world already had enough of its own , Your guilt,     sadness    and    shame are   amplified  by their control that's not spirituality or    SALVATION.   Humans fix each other and clean up  the mess, no one else, not once , not ever. like monogamy   a   dead weight that     evolution hasn't gotten around to cutting off,     yet. Inculcated     meat machines     clinging  to these primitive  Appendixes.     Mental guilt   and shame daddy issue reflexes instead of accepting reality   Sorry Granny the Jews  lied to you             to us all. What were  you   before you were born ?    Yeah,  its like that. There's nothing   beyond what we can see and experience directly. Especially    not some    spirit like incorporeal     'ghost'        harp playing chain rattling     spirit ...    Spirit u ality ?      Wow,  seriously     yall What year  IS   this ? Nobody's   coming ! Not   then not now. Not for,    or from,    your outdated  evolutionary baggage. In an   in-between state     your leg twitches  hard as you sleep you're    stepping in a    hole falling     from a tree there  is  your so called spirituality. NO THANKS none for me. “Men yoke themselves to one God but keep a stable. They worship unity, then demand a chorus to sing their private fears.” ~ Nietzsche. ( He was so noble and brave, not only what he said, the time frame in which he said it and who he said it to.) Took more savvy and courage to do and say what he said than all the other lies all the churches hide behind put together.
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41
This is not a common era The trouble is threefold Drinking from an empty glass Opening the door to strangers Walking along these jagged cliffs If you tolerate this Your children will be next
0
Mar 11, 2025
Mar 11, 2025 at 12:54 PM UTC
Here Comes Treble
It's awe inspiring. It's wonderous. I truly believe. I'm IN.                                         but I do wonder. Doubt creeps in. Then thought. Now insight. Now I don't. I'm OUT!
0
Jan 9, 2024
Jan 9, 2024 at 1:41 PM UTC
IN.... then....OUT
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.
0
May 14, 2022
May 14, 2022 at 10:12 AM UTC
Mental Slavery~
In the haze of Cerebral hemispheres Counting the seconds between Lightning and thunder Returning fire With the same manic glee As eating ice cream Right from the carton Two Minutes Hate I'm bleeding out like Notes from underground That contain secrets Of the wounded sky I feel a provoked heaviness like Manhole covers Razing cane over The shoddy infrastructure Two Minutes Hate "The horrible thing about the Two Minutes Hate was not that one was obliged to act a part, but that it was impossible to avoid joining in." - George Orwell, from the novel 'Nineteen Eighty-Four' ~
0
Nov 2, 2020
Nov 2, 2020 at 7:55 AM UTC
Two Minutes Hate
scrolling through a colonized culture that tells us to stay busy be productive work hard for what a shame it would be to rest a capatalist cornucopia of brainwashing ads making us believe we are not good enough simply as we are that we should work hard to become something we are not the messages they spoon-feed us travelling straight to the subconscious where our deepest insecurities reside secretly piling up in their favour as they feed more information ever so subtly and carefully
0
Apr 24, 2020
Apr 24, 2020 at 3:29 AM UTC
brainwashed.
Was it bleak or bright, I cannot say, so mesmerized was I, when I saw you cross your balcony to take the morning air. Brilliant were the beams and bands that danced about your hair: an angel in her nimbus, uniting earth and sky. And I saw you there—saw your red eyes catch the day, saw you look in my direction, saw your red eyes look away. A man am I, a dog with human glands. I snuck behind a moving van and wiped my sweaty hands. A love unreal confused me, abused me, tucked my tail and called me stray. Bite the hand or beg for more? True to form, I slunk away. And though indeed it strained me, and pained me to adjourn, I blew a kiss and swore that on the morrow I’d return. My heart, he soars on silken wings. That new day came. Ah, so unjust! And so complete my pain— I saw you with another man, your higher halves entwined…perhaps, though shards of years were ground to dust, my blood prints marked me plain: a mongrel doomed to stoops and stones, a cur condemned to scraps. I saw you—saw you slit me like a knife, eviscerate my very soul and leave my pride to rot. You…you kissed this man! You graced his life with lips Love meant for me. You left me nought. So rapt, this man! Oh, why, sweet thing, were you so wrapped in he? A fractured dream, a crippled heart—Ha! What are they to me. My brain, he lurches light-to-shadow. The day was black, and cold as sin. Intent, hell-bent, I sought your hearth again…and saw you with a dozen men! I blew it there, I lost it then. I split but scampered back in ten. Then kneeling ’neath your window, and bleeding onto chalk, I visualized a pentagram, and drew it on the walk. O wretched me! The ills I loosed were sudden and extreme. I seemed to reel through realms surreal, engulfed in flames and steam. But in that rune I saw you—your burning hair, your melting face— betrothed to a misshapen brute, and crushed in his embrace. I saw you fry, my tainted pie, my angel-not-to-be. No matter, dear, our course is clear. No other fool, you fickle jewel, will share your fate with me. My fist, he palsies as he clenches. Dismayed by dreams of infants’ screams, I part my lids to find I’ve merely lost my will-to-be, I’ve yet to lose my mind. The frauds and freaks run howling, the living **** the dead— I’d give my all to make my peace; alas, I’ve made my bed. With toes aflame I wander lame down ways that pitch and wind; the lashers all assume I’m lost, the hiders think I’m blind. But I saw you—the Master’s squeeze—a wizened, crippled crone: a wagging head and yoke of lead, an anvil on your rear. Your shins were munched, your back was hunched, your skin was puckered rind. A scorched queen with a smoking crown, your swelling belly led you down a path of spewing stone, where fouled and flanked by giant flies, I saw you pass through veils of gas, your piglets close behind. Your clogs were frogs, your wedding ring a thing of chiseled bone. Your skirt was thatch, with hose to match the squalor of your thighs. I saw you walk his wombats, dear, but I was in your eyes. My leg, he chases me in circles. Thanks for reading I Saw You. NOW PLEASE CLICK ON THE LINK BELOW TO READ HERO, A SPRAWLING, GROUNDBREAKING FANTASY FOR GROWNUPS IN TWO PARTS, ALL ABOUT THE FIRST HUMAN TO CIRCUMNAVIGATE THE PLANET. (BUT YOU MUST CLICK ON THE PROVIDED LINK AT THE CONCLUSION OF PART ONE TO ACCESS PART TWO! THAT’S WHERE THIS TALE’S AMAZING RESOLUTION LIES. But please...intelligent, readers only!) NOW HERE’S THAT LINK: https://allpoetry.com/poem/14922744-Hero---Part-One-by-Ron-Sanders Copyright 2020 by Ron Sanders. contact: [email protected]
0
Feb 21, 2020
Feb 21, 2020 at 3:35 PM UTC
I Saw You
Was it bleak or bright, I cannot say, so mesmerized was I, when I saw you cross your balcony to take the morning air. Brilliant were the beams and bands that danced about your hair: an angel in her nimbus, uniting earth and sky. And I saw you there—saw your red eyes catch the day, saw you look in my direction, saw your red eyes look away. A man am I, a dog with human glands. I snuck behind a moving van and wiped my sweaty hands. A love unreal confused me, abused me, tucked my tail and called me stray. Bite the hand or beg for more? True to form, I slunk away. And though indeed it strained me, and pained me to adjourn, I blew a kiss and swore that on the morrow I’d return. My heart, he soars on silken wings. That new day came. Ah, so unjust! And so complete my pain— I saw you with another man, your higher halves entwined…perhaps, though shards of years were ground to dust, my blood prints marked me plain: a mongrel doomed to stoops and stones, a cur condemned to scraps. I saw you—saw you slit me like a knife, eviscerate my very soul and leave my pride to rot. You…you kissed this man! You graced his life with lips Love meant for me. You left me nought. So rapt, this man! Oh, why, sweet thing, were you so wrapped in he? A fractured dream, a crippled heart—Ha! What are they to me. My brain, he lurches light-to-shadow. The day was black, and cold as sin. Intent, hell-bent, I sought your hearth again…and saw you with a dozen men! I blew it there, I lost it then. I split but scampered back in ten. Then kneeling ’neath your window, and bleeding onto chalk, I visualized a pentagram, and drew it on the walk. O wretched me! The ills I loosed were sudden and extreme. I seemed to reel through realms surreal, engulfed in flames and steam. But in that rune I saw you—your burning hair, your melting face— betrothed to a misshapen brute, and crushed in his embrace. I saw you fry, my tainted pie, my angel-not-to-be. No matter, dear, our course is clear. No other fool, you fickle jewel, will share your fate with me. My fist, he palsies as he clenches. Dismayed by dreams of infants’ screams, I part my lids to find I’ve merely lost my will-to-be, I’ve yet to lose my mind. The frauds and freaks run howling, the living **** the dead— I’d give my all to make my peace; alas, I’ve made my bed. With toes aflame I wander lame down ways that pitch and wind; the lashers all assume I’m lost, the hiders think I’m blind. But I saw you—the Master’s squeeze—a wizened, crippled crone: a wagging head and yoke of lead, an anvil on your rear. Your shins were munched, your back was hunched, your skin was puckered rind. A scorched queen with a smoking crown, your swelling belly led you down a path of spewing stone, where fouled and flanked by giant flies, I saw you pass through veils of gas, your piglets close behind. Your clogs were frogs, your wedding ring a thing of chiseled bone. Your skirt was thatch, with hose to match the squalor of your thighs. I saw you walk his wombats, dear, but I was in your eyes. My leg, he chases me in circles. Thanks for reading I Saw You. NOW PLEASE CLICK ON THE LINK BELOW TO READ HERO, A SPRAWLING, GROUNDBREAKING FANTASY FOR GROWNUPS IN TWO PARTS, ALL ABOUT THE FIRST HUMAN TO CIRCUMNAVIGATE THE PLANET. (BUT YOU MUST CLICK ON THE PROVIDED LINK AT THE CONCLUSION OF PART ONE TO ACCESS PART TWO! THAT’S WHERE THIS TALE’S AMAZING RESOLUTION LIES. But please...intelligent, readers only!) NOW HERE’S THAT LINK: https://allpoetry.com/poem/14922744-Hero---Part-One-by-Ron-Sanders Copyright 2020 by Ron Sanders. contact: [email protected]
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60
The subject of this email is as usual... subjective! Not sure there is actually a subject involved? I mean if I just ramble on about any old thing that crosses my mind, how would that be described as a subject. I submit that the "subject" line of all emails should be moved to the end of an email! That way we would have a better grasp of what the subject of the email truly is. Better yet it should automatically prompt you to go to the subject line when you click "send" to fill in at that time. Maybe the email program should even give samples of possible subject lines based on google's interpretation of what you have typed in the body of the email. Better yet that program should just run automatically and impose a subject line based on the information in the message body after it is run through several psychiatric data bases and analyzed and a consensus has been reached... Hmmm... Now I'm thinking that there should be a mind to keyboard interface so we can do away with all this time-consuming typing! And while we're at it why not add a chip in our brains that thinks for us and sends the data it receives directly to the keyboard interface... I mean think of all the time we would save not having to think any more! Why stop there? We can also add emotion chips so that when we are letting our thinking chip talk for us we can also have the emotions that our emotion chip thinks we should be feeling automatically inserted into the email with the capability of it being felt by the emotion chip in the person whose thinking and keyboard interface chips are perusing the email written by our thinking and keyboard interface chips. Ooooh now I'm really thinking... why not install mini SD drives in our brains so we can change the way we feel by simply inserting a new SD card? That way if we happen to read one of the emails thought out by our thinking chip, written by our keyboard interface chip, analyzed and consented to by the psychiatric data bases and given a subject and we decide that we want to change the way it is perceived by the thinking chip of the recipient we can simply insert a different emotion SD card into our SD drive and have those new emotions embedded directly into the email! *** This is genius! Imagine the time we could save! I could just go on and on with this! The applications are limitless. Why hasn't someone thought of this before? Oh wait, what am I thinking... this is old news. This is called brainwashing and the government and every major company in the world has been doing it since the dawn of capitalism! I'm going to stop now because I am no longer sure if the words I write are my own, or if they are just a bunch of noise created by the humm of all the post hypnotic suggestive clutter in my brain from years and years of commercial TV and slick politician abuse. That's all I have time for this morning. I apologize in retrospect for the emotional agony I have put your brain through while reading this inane banter...
0
Oct 29, 2019
Oct 29, 2019 at 10:38 AM UTC
Subject line, a subjective view... (Long but fun)
The subject of this email is as usual... subjective! Not sure there is actually a subject involved? I mean if I just ramble on about any old thing that crosses my mind, how would that be described as a subject. I submit that the "subject" line of all emails should be moved to the end of an email! That way we would have a better grasp of what the subject of the email truly is. Better yet it should automatically prompt you to go to the subject line when you click "send" to fill in at that time. Maybe the email program should even give samples of possible subject lines based on google's interpretation of what you have typed in the body of the email. Better yet that program should just run automatically and impose a subject line based on the information in the message body after it is run through several psychiatric data bases and analyzed and a consensus has been reached... Hmmm... Now I'm thinking that there should be a mind to keyboard interface so we can do away with all this time-consuming typing! And while we're at it why not add a chip in our brains that thinks for us and sends the data it receives directly to the keyboard interface... I mean think of all the time we would save not having to think any more! Why stop there? We can also add emotion chips so that when we are letting our thinking chip talk for us we can also have the emotions that our emotion chip thinks we should be feeling automatically inserted into the email with the capability of it being felt by the emotion chip in the person whose thinking and keyboard interface chips are perusing the email written by our thinking and keyboard interface chips. Ooooh now I'm really thinking... why not install mini SD drives in our brains so we can change the way we feel by simply inserting a new SD card? That way if we happen to read one of the emails thought out by our thinking chip, written by our keyboard interface chip, analyzed and consented to by the psychiatric data bases and given a subject and we decide that we want to change the way it is perceived by the thinking chip of the recipient we can simply insert a different emotion SD card into our SD drive and have those new emotions embedded directly into the email! *** This is genius! Imagine the time we could save! I could just go on and on with this! The applications are limitless. Why hasn't someone thought of this before? Oh wait, what am I thinking... this is old news. This is called brainwashing and the government and every major company in the world has been doing it since the dawn of capitalism! I'm going to stop now because I am no longer sure if the words I write are my own, or if they are just a bunch of noise created by the humm of all the post hypnotic suggestive clutter in my brain from years and years of commercial TV and slick politician abuse. That's all I have time for this morning. I apologize in retrospect for the emotional agony I have put your brain through while reading this inane banter...
Continue reading...
8
We wrap headphone cords around our necks like nooses, drowning our senses in senseless noise, marching mechanically through the streets, pressed forwards by the weight of the masses at our backs, unaware of our own heartbeat as corrupt corporations and our government masquerading as a democracy steer our feet down endless paths of addiction, feeding off of our misery, stealing the life from our lungs from the very moment we are born. And we never saw it coming.
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Jun 8, 2019
Jun 8, 2019 at 8:40 PM UTC
Mice Trapped in Mazes
I watch you as you lick your fingers and laugh at the funny man on your cellphone while the clouds above your head outside the taco bell are not real while you breathe in the poisons you can't see I watch you as you dance in the fairytale of non disclosure that the box displays that the news portrays the fictional truth the yodeling boy in Walmart captivates while pleas from those who see the truth fade like the voices of trees and bees and empty seas I watch you as you shed tears for a dying love but close your heart to a dying planet the clock ticking the hours wane I watch you picking out the last car you will own working so hard to get that promotion and you know you're so much better as you ponder sugar substitues through red and tired eyes tears loaded with nano particles and other poisons I watch you drown in your blindness your sad brainwashed life your own slow suicide tonight, before you begin your final sleep open your eyes just wide enough to see you could have stopped this
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Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 12:13 PM UTC
I watch you
We are all humans right? Humans with fears, Humans that shed tears. Humans that should be treated equally, Humans that shouldn't have to suffer without reasons. Humans that have the right to choose what they believe in or not. So why isn't this happening? Why are we not being treated equally? Why are we suffering without reasons? Why are we being stopped from having the right to choose what we believe in? Why all this? This shouldn't happen. This can't keep happening. But I know I can't do it alone. I need you. They need you. People are being tortured right now, They're suffering so much right now. They need us. It might be them today, But tomorrow it can be you or me. And do you actually feel alright not doing anything about this? Do you feel good not helping your own kind just because it isn't you or someone you know in person? Do they deserve this? Would we deserve it? Being hurt for wanting to believe in what we want? For having free will? Is that a reason to be tortured? To be killed? To have our loved ones taken out from us and have them being hurt? To be thrown away into prison? To be brainwashed? To be taken out everything we cherish and love? No! It is not, And it'll never be a reason. You and me know that. Now spread the word, And make the difference. If you really call yourself, An human being, Let's end this tyranny.
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Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 9:19 AM UTC
Falun Gong
Girls played hopscotch While boys played ball To some of us kids It made no sense at all. What if a girl had a Powerhouse right arm Would you want her staying Back home on the farm? Blue and pink Pink and blue Does all this insanity Make any sense to you? Hammers and nails And puppy dog tails. And all the nonsense That nursery rhyme entails. And what if a boy Had balance and agility? Would you look on him As having a disability? Girls had to take cooking Boys had to take shop. Why does this sexism Never come to a stop? Boys get a box of toys Girls get some dolls. Sometimes that makes No real sense at all. Girls take lessons on How to dance and live. Boys learn to ridicule Not to take, but to give. Blue and pink Pink and blue Does all this insanity Make any sense to you? Hammers and nails And puppy dog tails. And all the nonsense That nursery rhyme entails.
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Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 5:36 PM UTC
BLUE AND PINK, PINK AND BLUE
I worry for a creature One that calls itself wise That needs to believe Some ancient pack of lies About timeless people, Gods that can never die, Though they are preposterous, They fail to ask why. I worry for a people who In an age that conquers disease Where we can educate ourselves To do almost whatever we please; Can turn night into the day And speak across the many miles Still chant their superstitious tales About magic arts all the while. It seems they are trained monkeys Who push buttons for rewards When spiritual independence Could be their permanent award. They thank the wrong saviors For pulling us out of the slime That has punished our people Back since ancient times. It was not ritual witchery That gave our people freedom. Instead it was seeing clearly, Analysis, research and wisdom. No blathering high priestess With winged dragons to fight Brought us medical cures, or Radio and electric light.
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Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 7:35 PM UTC
CHANTING CANT