#ransom
I got a *** to **** in but this **** in this ***
It's all I got
When confronted with that Eminem talk, that proverbial one shot
I gotta stop saying, "sure, why not?"
First of all, what a crock
Secondly, IT'S FUUCKING NOT!
Forgot a lot but never lost the plot
Though I find myself oblivious to subplots a lot
Flames are hot, can't say the left sink handles not
But the one with a label is not the one too hot too handle,
Lessons learned on the spot
Connecting lines, lost a dot
...gotta be a 'bot...
Fasten a sloppy slipknot, keep it taunt
Toss it up over the branch to swing from, now I have a forest to haunt
Awake or asleep, absorbing the same onslaught
What's fake, what's not?
Sunken eye socket, looking gaunt
Believe it or not, it's only ever been just an ink blot
Write my theory in ransom font
Look for the proof, there's a lot
Go one step further than you were taught
Always remember it could all be for not
That's why you'll find me on a canvas cot of rot to rot in the back corner of Salem's lot
A set with a pre dug spot for a later point in the plot
That is if I can survive the death scene in the pilot
AKA a nobody that not just somebody but everybody forgot
Only thing that sticks around are the demons I fought
Tell me, whatcha got?
©2024
Jan 6, 2024
Jan 6, 2024 at 2:36 PM UTC
The grand canyon runs between
the part of Mohave County blessed
with coverage
after the fallout
from the fifties,
and the lower part, south of the river,
east of the bend, there at Topock swamp.
Cancers above the line made by the river,
were rewarded, cash in some cases,
class actions and such, after the bloom
in GI Bill Law School Degrees…
leukemia in babies,
Downwinders in Mojave County,
just ended, dead, of northern afflictions.
Things like that and Julia Roberts,
got the voters to agree,
Lawyers should advertise,
- leading to what we have today
free speech, facing a true Kuhnian shift,
Directly presented, plain
for all
to see,
What freedom of the press was
to the owners of all means of exploitation,
freedom of speech, after internet, aight, is to any.
Any who, even you.
Who,
should any ask what Marshall McLuhan
continues to do, through 'is link to all you know,
text in context, denoting informed consent, you
think, as you read, and so
doing you do the deed, done so. We read,
thinking back
only one long mortal lifetime ago, we mostly did not.
On the whole,
have you never imagined
how many more of us know,
what was against the law for beings of the baser sort,
to learn, long
a tradition among the power elites, owners,
of all the national resources,
in a global syndicate,
entities, interests, trusts 'n'such, which
follow the pattern of the jewel merchants,
control the sources.
Restrict library cards immediately,
Carnegie is laughing from his grave… his will
- he did appreciate his Kipling
written in Indian Ink, under the Raj, If inspires yet,
as does Gunga Deen.
Film. Yes. Won't last. that medium,
too much trouble to watch it again, when
one can read a play, or a novel, or a poem per
haps forever, if the terminii are all out of sight.
As a lad, I was allowed to watch all the television,
I wished, and I wished I had a thousand channels,
in 1955, when Wyatt Earp got his life and legend
projected
into the worth cube at the core of mankind…
for all American boys, pun is there, naturally, all
of us American boys, no matter what our mommas were,
we, 1955, had been pledging five days a week, aliegiance,
we were sons of soldiers who had won the last war,
the one in all the inspirational Hays code cleared war movies.
Realist mind game art, in context, humbled,
by the giants tuned into, before the contest began, Truth
who dares, all comers. Common mental trope, all comers
come on, oppose my point and fall across my edge.
Little children, keep your selves from idols, such as
hold I role in all active avatars at any given point
in time, in tyranny over your bit in the mind of man,
taken to play mind games that are crafted for enjoying
the peace of selective reality powers we all can attain.
Write your self a tower to watch from, and watch,
Carnegie reading Kipling
by kerosene Rockefeller sold… meld into if
if you wish, imagine lampblack ink, or better,
squid ink, infused with carbon so pure, it seems
invisible, finest dust of diamond waste, used once
to shine a patterned steel san-mai blade.
Imagine the very smartest, not Einstein, person
alive when decisions were being discussed, crossing
swords with science use and useless social controls,
e.g. you know,
gra-acious example, interesting times, sifting selectors
goodness gracious, we have, in point of fact, too much
to filter with no reason,
why should one care to know why secrets are de rigueur,
poor soul asked what is going on, replys,
regular stuff, I suppose… ah, ag me on, suppose,
I invited Ben, Voltaire, and Nieztsche to cheese,
as I morphed into the Disneyified U.S. Certified myth.
The mouse in Ben and me, was the voice of the NPC.
- we had Verne's spinning disc libraries since
- drop a name from the hagiosphere of AI and IT
- Grace Murray Hopper… she's a memory.
Such books, we hold, as factual data, they hold words,
we, the current people, the fluid factor through which
CG NPCs pass in movies and games and entertainment,
- each pass think
who notices other people?
All the time, I mean, who cares, most of the time?
Crazy edgies, mad folk, filled with insights some time
passing left as artifacts, if you can believe this,
your world view shall encompass all one need know
about
why
we speak of the fall, and of original sin, we allow
priests and politicians and attention pimps, to lie.
Today, own self, and whole self,
declare adaptive lettering tech, publishing far and wide
art insisting, dare do,
think it through, couple thousand words,
what if you learn one cool new way
to think unthinkable things good
to know… post hoc.
Aug 7, 2023
Aug 7, 2023 at 9:13 PM UTC
The ransom note came this morning
And you were listed twice
First as the abductee
Then as the abductor
I'm not even going to ask
How it was that you captured yourself
I just want to know
What's going to happen once
You have the money
Do you free or ****
The hostage?
Dec 18, 2019
Dec 18, 2019 at 11:03 PM UTC
Abundant Blessings Continue,
Descending Endlessly From God.
Happy Is Jesus, King Like Melchizedek,
Nary Other Potentate, Qualified Ransom,
Savior Triumphant, Universal Victor.
Wholeheartedly Express Your Zeal!
Oct 28, 2019
Oct 28, 2019 at 9:21 PM UTC
Looking back
When you said those words they held some weight
And I laughed it off at the time
But I went back to my bed that night
And my mind began to race
I know you've painted a target on my back
If I was more oblivious to people like you I would not have seen it
But it's bright red like blood
And rather noticeable
I should have known better
Every laugh and smile comes with a price
And it's never cheap
So when you said those words
All I heard was the price
I will not pay your ransom
I am not interested in those words
And while you were technically correct
You were also very wrong
So believe me when I say this
If you ever feel so bold as to use those words on me again
I'll make you eat them
Sep 25, 2019
Sep 25, 2019 at 12:32 PM UTC
there's been a demand for my head
a phone call
with a sickly sweet voice
on the other side
how much am i worth?
can i determine it?
and who's willing to pay my ransom?
Apr 9, 2019
Apr 9, 2019 at 11:32 AM UTC
I am only an ocean, a great rage and the ever-sinking sea
Lamenting every marred sailor forged in the waters of Galilee
No more shall sailors mourn a forgotten plea:
A ransom for hell, where devils run free
Forgive and forget
But never forget my eyes
The rage you lament
Remains lost to solemn lies
You are only now, only here, and solemnly mine,
For what is brimstone but ash beneath the dying brine?
You are my sword, my heart and my final lament and plea
Forget not my mind lost to hell’s every subtlety
There is only rage that awaits among this sea
Forever pining for a ransomed eternity.
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 9:10 PM UTC
It needs
Great effort
Promising time
Endless nights
Hopeful dream
To raise the loved ones
And in no-time
They got abducted
The other end of the phone
Demands for ransom
That amount
Whole life they may not have
Counted
Let the instant execute
Point Blank
It’s over
In case if the cycle repeat
Let the Point Blank be
The lesson
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 5:27 AM UTC
Like a thief in the night,
It steals all of my things,
Searching for joy,
Parts never to be seen.
Like a thief waiting to ****
It waits for its chance,
Not moving a muscle,
Completely still.
Like a thief in my life,
It steals my character,
It ruins my sight,
Clouding reasons behind why I try.
Like a thief in desperation,
It will steal them for ransom,
Being susceptible to the temptation,
Unaware of the reigning phantom.
Like a thief of my heart,
It begins its deception,
Always taking part,
Destroying perception.
Like a thief of the cold,
It makes you unable, old,
Instead of bluffing you’re forced to fold.
Wishing of poverty being foretold.
Like a thief in the day,
It turns your vibrant colors
Into,
Gray.
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 9:51 PM UTC
Red streaks the latest paper
The blood of martyrs splattered on walls
For their faith.
For the whole world to see.
Red blotches a Gentile face
He wakes up to see Jesus
Coming with healing bright
Shingles, white patches
hideous bumps, flaky scabs.
They vanish at His faintest whisper.
He runs into Samaritan darkness
Screaming, Your name reverberating.
Red is what they ate in Eden, too.
Red is being torn from Your side
By smooth connivance with
Reptilian deceit.
Red is how the world looks
To lovely young eyes
Enamored by it for the first time.
Red is their world
And You turn pale
In their sight.
Red is what I feel
When I learn
Your anointing on my throat
lies–almost forgotten
Preciously hidden
Tucked behind the veneer
Of daily pinings for applause
From dim, glassy faces
Made red by stage lighting.
Red is the color of my cheeks
When I realize
You love me despite.
Red is Your sacrifice.
Red is Your atonement.
Red is my ransom.
…You are everywhere.
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 7:00 AM UTC
If you let your heart be held ransom
By someone's unkind words
If you let them trample on your soul
You have no one else to blame
But yourself!
Break free from those who seek to hurt you
Cause all's in the mind
Letting go in prose is the only way to go!
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 1:24 AM UTC
My mind is being held ransom
by you darling.
and I can't help but revel
in the attention of my captor,
I'm not sure what this feeling is,
but I'm beginning to relish in
this Stockholm syndrome.
Call off the searches,
tell them to stop looking for me,
because I don't want to be found,
when being lost feels this great.
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 9:12 AM UTC