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#pledge
"I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of Mar-a-lago, and to my kingdom, for which it stands, one Nation under God and me, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all except for immigrants, legal or not, who have neither liberty nor justice, as well as those who vouch for immigrants, who have neither, and my friends, who have liberty but not justice" If you are going to recite this, substitute "my" with "Trump's" or "His" —note the uppercase—, and "me" with "Trump" or "Him". Thank you for your attention to this matter, Signed: Not Donald J. Trump
0
7d ago
May 27, 2026 at 2:56 PM UTC
Pledge of allegiance
I pledge allegiance to the flicker and glow Of the silver screen in black and white, To the scratches dancing through the reels, To cigarette burns in the corner of the frame, To the hum of the projector sounding like summer bees In some downtown theatre that no longer stands. I pledge myself to the old palaces of dreams, To velvet curtains and sticky floors, To ushers with flashlights, To popcorn that tasted faintly of cardboard, To Saturday matinees where cowboys galloped forever Across deserts painted on canvas. Old cowboys, forts and shootouts, Black for bad and white for good, With spinning canvas backgrounds And cactus cutouts made of wood. The desert sat behind them Fifty yards away at most. The heroes didn’t ride horses — They sat in folding chairs and boastfully smoked While makeup girls powdered their noses And stuntmen broke their backs in the dust. A painted sunset turned upon a spindle Through valleys, hills, and streams, While the hero rode a deck chair horse And the director yelled and screamed. Cardboard cactus leaned sideways in the wind, Paper-mâché boulders rolled downhill, And avalanches came apart in flakes of painted paper To thunderous applause from kids in the front row. And we believed every second of it. We believed the white hats would win. We believed the sheriff would come riding. We believed the train whistle in the dark meant trouble. We believed Roy Rogers could sing away sorrow And Gene Autry could stop a range war with a guitar. I salute the men who waddled through custard pies, Chaplin with his cane twirling against despair, Keaton staring down catastrophe without blinking, Harold Lloyd hanging from the clock above the street. Ben Turpin squinting at the universe sideways, Laurel and Hardy destroying pianos and plumbing alike, Abbott and Costello arguing logic into madness, The Three Stooges poking holes in civilization one eye at a time. I pledge devotion to Groucho’s insults, To Chico’s piano tricks, To Harpo’s bicycle horn and silent grin, That impossible yellow wig glowing like moonlight In worlds that only existed between reels. I honor the voices and visions Of John Ford finding poetry in Monument Valley, Frank Capra finding goodness in ordinary people, Billy Wilder sharpening dialogue like a switchblade, Preston Sturges turning chaos into symphonies, Howard Hawks teaching cool men how to talk fast, Hitchcock making terror from shadows and staircases. And I honor the writers too, Those poor exhausted souls in smoke-filled rooms Hammering miracles into typewriters At three cents a word. Ben Hecht, Dorothy Parker, Robert Riskin, Mankiewicz with a bottle nearby and genius close behind. I honor Bogart beneath the trench coat brim, Cagney exploding like dynamite in a fedora, Bette Davis staring down the world without surrender, Barbara Stanwyck tougher than half the cowboys, Jimmy Stewart stumbling toward decency, Cary Grant outrunning airplanes in polished shoes, Peter Lorre smiling nervously from dark corners, Edward G. Robinson snarling over grapefruit and crime. And the monsters — bless the monsters. Karloff walking slowly beneath the laboratory lightning, Lugosi spreading his cape like midnight itself, Lon Chaney becoming a hundred haunted men, Vincent Price inviting us into beautiful nightmares With a voice dipped in candle wax and graveyard dust. I believe in rain made from hoses. In thunder shaken from sheets of metal. In castles built from plywood. In spaceships hung on visible wires. In oceans painted onto glass. In wolves that were obviously German Shepherds. In saloons where every swinging door squeaked exactly the same. I believe in special effects done by desperate geniuses Using glue, mirrors, smoke, fishing line, And whatever happened to be lying around the studio lot. I believe a story matters more than spectacle. That a line of dialogue can outlive an explosion. That one look between two actors Can carry more weight than an army of computers. I reject the polished emptiness Of worlds too perfect to breathe in. Give me scratches on the film. Give me missed cues and wobbling scenery. Give me painted stars on black velvet skies. Give me actors who knew how to speak Instead of merely surviving the noise. Because somewhere in all that fakery Was something strangely true. The white hats beat the black hats. The hero got the girl. The background on the spindle kept spinning, Watch it whirl. A celluloid adventure, Cowboys nowhere close to what they were — But for one shining hour in the darkness, They were exactly what we needed them to be. And should the modern world forget these treasures, I shall remember them still. The slapstick comics. The detectives in foggy alleys. The dancing girls descending staircases. The lonely monsters. The noble sheriffs. The newspapermen yelling into telephones. The lovers kissing while orchestras swelled beneath them. I will remember the old theatres, The smell of dust and warm projectors, The thrill when the lights went down And the curtains slowly opened like royalty entering the room. And somewhere beyond the beam of light, Beyond the spinning reels and painted deserts, Beyond the cardboard cactus and paper rocks, A cowboy still rides across the screen in black and white, Tipping his hat toward eternity. Watch the next show for a nickel. And don’t forget your spurs.
0
May 23
May 23, 2026 at 1:19 PM UTC
Movie Pledge of Allegiance
I pledge allegiance to the flicker and glow Of the silver screen in black and white, To the scratches dancing through the reels, To cigarette burns in the corner of the frame, To the hum of the projector sounding like summer bees In some downtown theatre that no longer stands. I pledge myself to the old palaces of dreams, To velvet curtains and sticky floors, To ushers with flashlights, To popcorn that tasted faintly of cardboard, To Saturday matinees where cowboys galloped forever Across deserts painted on canvas. Old cowboys, forts and shootouts, Black for bad and white for good, With spinning canvas backgrounds And cactus cutouts made of wood. The desert sat behind them Fifty yards away at most. The heroes didn’t ride horses — They sat in folding chairs and boastfully smoked While makeup girls powdered their noses And stuntmen broke their backs in the dust. A painted sunset turned upon a spindle Through valleys, hills, and streams, While the hero rode a deck chair horse And the director yelled and screamed. Cardboard cactus leaned sideways in the wind, Paper-mâché boulders rolled downhill, And avalanches came apart in flakes of painted paper To thunderous applause from kids in the front row. And we believed every second of it. We believed the white hats would win. We believed the sheriff would come riding. We believed the train whistle in the dark meant trouble. We believed Roy Rogers could sing away sorrow And Gene Autry could stop a range war with a guitar. I salute the men who waddled through custard pies, Chaplin with his cane twirling against despair, Keaton staring down catastrophe without blinking, Harold Lloyd hanging from the clock above the street. Ben Turpin squinting at the universe sideways, Laurel and Hardy destroying pianos and plumbing alike, Abbott and Costello arguing logic into madness, The Three Stooges poking holes in civilization one eye at a time. I pledge devotion to Groucho’s insults, To Chico’s piano tricks, To Harpo’s bicycle horn and silent grin, That impossible yellow wig glowing like moonlight In worlds that only existed between reels. I honor the voices and visions Of John Ford finding poetry in Monument Valley, Frank Capra finding goodness in ordinary people, Billy Wilder sharpening dialogue like a switchblade, Preston Sturges turning chaos into symphonies, Howard Hawks teaching cool men how to talk fast, Hitchcock making terror from shadows and staircases. And I honor the writers too, Those poor exhausted souls in smoke-filled rooms Hammering miracles into typewriters At three cents a word. Ben Hecht, Dorothy Parker, Robert Riskin, Mankiewicz with a bottle nearby and genius close behind. I honor Bogart beneath the trench coat brim, Cagney exploding like dynamite in a fedora, Bette Davis staring down the world without surrender, Barbara Stanwyck tougher than half the cowboys, Jimmy Stewart stumbling toward decency, Cary Grant outrunning airplanes in polished shoes, Peter Lorre smiling nervously from dark corners, Edward G. Robinson snarling over grapefruit and crime. And the monsters — bless the monsters. Karloff walking slowly beneath the laboratory lightning, Lugosi spreading his cape like midnight itself, Lon Chaney becoming a hundred haunted men, Vincent Price inviting us into beautiful nightmares With a voice dipped in candle wax and graveyard dust. I believe in rain made from hoses. In thunder shaken from sheets of metal. In castles built from plywood. In spaceships hung on visible wires. In oceans painted onto glass. In wolves that were obviously German Shepherds. In saloons where every swinging door squeaked exactly the same. I believe in special effects done by desperate geniuses Using glue, mirrors, smoke, fishing line, And whatever happened to be lying around the studio lot. I believe a story matters more than spectacle. That a line of dialogue can outlive an explosion. That one look between two actors Can carry more weight than an army of computers. I reject the polished emptiness Of worlds too perfect to breathe in. Give me scratches on the film. Give me missed cues and wobbling scenery. Give me painted stars on black velvet skies. Give me actors who knew how to speak Instead of merely surviving the noise. Because somewhere in all that fakery Was something strangely true. The white hats beat the black hats. The hero got the girl. The background on the spindle kept spinning, Watch it whirl. A celluloid adventure, Cowboys nowhere close to what they were — But for one shining hour in the darkness, They were exactly what we needed them to be. And should the modern world forget these treasures, I shall remember them still. The slapstick comics. The detectives in foggy alleys. The dancing girls descending staircases. The lonely monsters. The noble sheriffs. The newspapermen yelling into telephones. The lovers kissing while orchestras swelled beneath them. I will remember the old theatres, The smell of dust and warm projectors, The thrill when the lights went down And the curtains slowly opened like royalty entering the room. And somewhere beyond the beam of light, Beyond the spinning reels and painted deserts, Beyond the cardboard cactus and paper rocks, A cowboy still rides across the screen in black and white, Tipping his hat toward eternity. Watch the next show for a nickel. And don’t forget your spurs.
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127
"i pledge allegiance to the flag..." but which flag? not my flag i have no devotion to the flag that never cared for me that decided my uniqueness was one step too far the flag that not only protects predators and pedophiles and rapists but gives them power in our government that flag doesn't represent me "...of the united states of america..." but from where i'm sitting, the states don't look that united lines of division drawn between political parties and people groups breaking apart families, friendships, and relationships alike "...and to the republic for which it stands..." but i was taught "republic" meant power resides with the citizens and that's not happening what i see is one man making all the calls deciding which lives are worth protecting killing children seperating families even though 59 to 62% of americans disapprove of his actions "...one nation under god, indivisible..." but is this what your god would want? from what i remember, he said to love others as yourself to welcome foreigners into your homes and i don't recall it being followed by "unless..." yet the division is ingrained into our existence the ostracization of communities a daily ritual "...with liberty and justice for all." but i think all really just stands for cis straight white neurotypical able-bodied men and that's not me no matter how hard i might try so, really, i think it should be i pledge allegiance to your flag of the divided states of america and to the dictatorship for which it stands one nation, under hate, fragmented with liberty and justice for some
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May 13
May 13, 2026 at 10:15 AM UTC
pledge of allegiance
"i pledge allegiance to the flag..." but which flag? not my flag i have no devotion to the flag that never cared for me that decided my uniqueness was one step too far the flag that not only protects predators and pedophiles and rapists but gives them power in our government that flag doesn't represent me "...of the united states of america..." but from where i'm sitting, the states don't look that united lines of division drawn between political parties and people groups breaking apart families, friendships, and relationships alike "...and to the republic for which it stands..." but i was taught "republic" meant power resides with the citizens and that's not happening what i see is one man making all the calls deciding which lives are worth protecting killing children seperating families even though 59 to 62% of americans disapprove of his actions "...one nation under god, indivisible..." but is this what your god would want? from what i remember, he said to love others as yourself to welcome foreigners into your homes and i don't recall it being followed by "unless..." yet the division is ingrained into our existence the ostracization of communities a daily ritual "...with liberty and justice for all." but i think all really just stands for cis straight white neurotypical able-bodied men and that's not me no matter how hard i might try so, really, i think it should be i pledge allegiance to your flag of the divided states of america and to the dictatorship for which it stands one nation, under hate, fragmented with liberty and justice for some
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51
Will you be my forever, Starting today.
0
Dec 5, 2025
Dec 5, 2025 at 9:35 AM UTC
Beyond the Moment
Know this. If you called me at 2 a.m , 6 months from now and told me you needed me I would break every law To get there as fast as l could. And if you called, just to sit in complete silence, I would sit there untill you fell asleep. I will always be there Even if you're not.
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Dec 5, 2025
Dec 5, 2025 at 8:34 AM UTC
Beyond the Clock
My vow shattered on the floor and with it came an out-pour of my blood. I'm sorry for what I've done, will you forgive me, still? I know who you are: guilt. you are here to scar, not wound. The blade was mine. I set the timer for failure; a clean crisp one.
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Sep 24, 2025
Sep 24, 2025 at 3:34 PM UTC
Dishonor unto oneself
I pledge allegiance to all the stones in the road that have given me succor, to every poet-of-anywhere who greets me with wetted, parted lips and open heart, who greets the sun-rays shared, inching, opening o'er my yet living, praying body, reminding me that I am alive, that I am warm that I feel poetry in, on, cells, all over, deep in my extremities Most  importantly, in my busted heart, where warmth is stored in a soul restored, and Life affirmed, For who knows how many more times I will know this, How many more times I will able compose this, Play "measure the future'' in seconds or years and grimaced smiles over tears, or just one or the other, that be willed to supersede; Will keep you posted in every realized and many some stillborn poem, rising with the grand entrance of morn skies, or perhaps, lies buried neath in each horizon's cemetarial, and even those, that straddle a confusing and confused moon, of a twenty fours hours existence, be shoulder-borne, bathed in combinatorial equatorial moon & sun light, so we can bathe, like Bathsheba (1) by both, and delight at the exact same moment's portent, no matter, the disregarded, discarded, why we are who we are when pledge and plead allegiance to those eyes that read our scrivenings nml
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Aug 27, 2025
Aug 27, 2025 at 11:57 AM UTC
I pledge Allegiance
bone whistle breath whittling the words   i curse with thistle                           no more taking life like medicine                     flob it all up   and rate the streets                                                 license to do
0
Jun 6, 2025
Jun 6, 2025 at 6:07 PM UTC
1000 1100
I'm all yours, till the Stars lose their glory. I'm all yours, till the Birds fail to sing. I'm all yours, till the end of Life's story. Darling this My Pledge, to U I bring.
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Aug 19, 2023
Aug 19, 2023 at 9:21 AM UTC
My Pledge
I owe you my life My wisdom My talents My strengths My beauty. I thought I knew myself but I’ll never know me like How you've known me. And somehow You looked passed the ugly And deemed me Deserving. Pulled me to safety Away from the edge Inspired within me an urge To give you my pledge To serve. When I thought I reached a peak I was proven to be short-sighted. When I was presented with the answers My heart was delighted And my soul lifted. You are like the stick my stem is stuck to As I grow tall, broad and straight. You are the rope I hold on to As I climbed and floated, And you weren't bothered by my weight. You’re a friend to me, You’re the 'someone I always wanted'. Heard me cry scream and sob And you were patient when insulted. And so I live by your mercy As you've been exalted, And I pledge to continue serving So that I can prove to you To myself That I am deserving.
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Nov 9, 2020
Nov 9, 2020 at 8:35 AM UTC
I Owe You
I Wish You To Join me Being us For The better human project
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Sep 12, 2020
Sep 12, 2020 at 1:37 AM UTC
Pledge
Among the hideous shapes you are my favoured For the wretched silence of your scoliotic spine flavoured with our crimson wine: Blood diamonds screaming songs of sirens writhing on a desiccated island's edge Boiled alive— can be distilled into the language of a pledge I hereby promise to be yours Foretell you will be mine
0
Aug 17, 2020
Aug 17, 2020 at 2:13 PM UTC
Sirenical
They say patience Is a virtue But, being with you My heart turns careless Is that so much of a sin It is the only vice that seems true
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Apr 29, 2020
Apr 29, 2020 at 5:43 PM UTC
Patience
Even if from a distance confined Realisation of the greatest respect By life’s volatility remaining aside Still craving to protect Understand for a fact That even if a worst fortune Prevented me to act And accede to no more importune Despite lying on the ground No longer dwelling in the trails Words unable be found Prevented to share tales  Veiled in the dark of night My gaze no longer hunts yours Eyes not reacting to light My affection still endures Wind forever forsaking my lungs Heart that have no more hours The words shorten in our tongues  When I alone await in the tomb For the cycle to be complete  Returning to the womb Making this life obsolete    Still aspiring to be your knight  When life no longer allow Quiet and resolute I will fight   To fulfil my silent vow Hear my lonely plight Angel in all your shine Help me with my regard Complete my vision Always in her guard Replace me in my mission
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Oct 7, 2019
Oct 7, 2019 at 7:26 AM UTC
Silent Pledge
Lie across Train tracks Without fear Call it insanity Yet you stand Willingly Hand on chest Pledging your life To the men Who dictate you
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Sep 27, 2019
Sep 27, 2019 at 8:27 PM UTC
Brainwashed
If I went back in time I’d kick myself in the shin, try to grow a spine and then reinforce my chin, with hardened steel over rusted tin. ‘Cause it’s taken hits beyond count, infact I’ve lost track of the amount, but I know even with my jaw broken I can still force out a grin. I don’t want to have to lie but it seems I’m guided into it for an alibi, and I can’t help but question why I try, when there’s no one to answer to; just time flying by. I’m not as stupid as I act, but I guess I can say I’m a good actor. I make a sound but immediately retract, because in a split second I balance every factor. I don’t want to be another casualty in a war effort so effortlessly, in a fight that shouldn’t concern me, but my flight instinct took flight instinctively. If I could go back in time I’d clock myself in the face, past me would rebut “what a disgrace,” while I’d agree to the mirrored me who’s never finishing, **** even last place. I know that my shoes were tight and tied, I was at the line waiting I never could hide, but still I’d trip and flounder, I should’ve double checked each lace. I don’t want to have to lie but it seems it’s better than admitting defeat or spitting out a goodbye. And I can’t help but wonder why, I even cry when I’ve taped my mouth shut and closed each eye. The butterfly of my effect has lost each wing, trapped in a jar, not going far; what a tragic thing. I press my hand against the dome, to let it be known, it’s not alone, this prison’s now it’s home. Poetry has given me the ability to travel through time to stand in shoes I abandoned on the concrete. Paint the scenery in every word and rhyme, and change the outcome in each stanza and beat. I fully feel the sun shine and the wind’s blow every single day like I’ve just arrived and met. Now I’m cursed to be a Romeo to a stand in Juliet. Design the plan for me, and I’ll blur the lines and matra, I’ll fight as Marc Anthony to only one Cleopatra.
0
Jul 16, 2019
Jul 16, 2019 at 11:16 PM UTC
Queen of De’nile
If I went back in time I’d kick myself in the shin, try to grow a spine and then reinforce my chin, with hardened steel over rusted tin. ‘Cause it’s taken hits beyond count, infact I’ve lost track of the amount, but I know even with my jaw broken I can still force out a grin. I don’t want to have to lie but it seems I’m guided into it for an alibi, and I can’t help but question why I try, when there’s no one to answer to; just time flying by. I’m not as stupid as I act, but I guess I can say I’m a good actor. I make a sound but immediately retract, because in a split second I balance every factor. I don’t want to be another casualty in a war effort so effortlessly, in a fight that shouldn’t concern me, but my flight instinct took flight instinctively. If I could go back in time I’d clock myself in the face, past me would rebut “what a disgrace,” while I’d agree to the mirrored me who’s never finishing, **** even last place. I know that my shoes were tight and tied, I was at the line waiting I never could hide, but still I’d trip and flounder, I should’ve double checked each lace. I don’t want to have to lie but it seems it’s better than admitting defeat or spitting out a goodbye. And I can’t help but wonder why, I even cry when I’ve taped my mouth shut and closed each eye. The butterfly of my effect has lost each wing, trapped in a jar, not going far; what a tragic thing. I press my hand against the dome, to let it be known, it’s not alone, this prison’s now it’s home. Poetry has given me the ability to travel through time to stand in shoes I abandoned on the concrete. Paint the scenery in every word and rhyme, and change the outcome in each stanza and beat. I fully feel the sun shine and the wind’s blow every single day like I’ve just arrived and met. Now I’m cursed to be a Romeo to a stand in Juliet. Design the plan for me, and I’ll blur the lines and matra, I’ll fight as Marc Anthony to only one Cleopatra.
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42
Sundays at home, are overwhelming. People who should think of future, are engulfed by fire of past. Open your door to new friends, before their fingers are bruised by knocking. I said to myself... this Sunday.
0
Jul 7, 2019
Jul 7, 2019 at 3:46 AM UTC
Sunday's Pledge
i disavow my allegiance to the flag, & to the Commonwealth of the Bahamas. for we are not one people, we are not united, we do not live in love, & we are unfortunately serviced. what does the future hold for my Bahama land? with our resources not being utilized for the betterment of our people... but being sold to non-Bahama land. no profits being aimed to, or sources being owned by our Bahama man. as i lift my head to the rising of the sun in this Bahama land, i see no hope for the future, no hope in my Bahama land. no one to speak up, the youth are out of luck. the elders show no interest, we are doomed. still, we march on to the glory.. but what bright banners do we have to wave high? the means of the leaders are of no significance, & i can no longer bear the pain that i witness. how will we excel if we do not love, & unite? going forward, will we stand together for a common, loftier goal? as i lift up my head to the rising sun in my Bahama land; i see anguish, i see fear & leaders with no care. all the things i see are broad. ...but may the road that my people trod lead us to our God, that will help us on this march to save our Bahama land.
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Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 8:49 PM UTC
my Bahama land.
Worry less reduce stress Let go have love show Hold a hand take a stand Lose control shore patrol Distemper the temper alleviate anger Less of a lug more bear hugs Take a hike ride my bike Get a kiss from my Miss Turn off the TV just be Count blessings not window dressings Volunteer cheer Be a friend till the end Andreas Simic©
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May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 5:58 AM UTC
2018 Pledge
Promise to mend my bruised resolve with tender hands, and I will fight your wars.
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Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 12:28 AM UTC
Oath