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#unitedstates
Where have all the assassins gone, I'm just asking, Where have all the hit-men gone, It wasn't long ago. Where have all the psychos gone, Ones like Sirhan Sirhan, Or a crazy American, Better still, a red Russian. Where have all the agencies gone, I'm just asking, The MI5, the CIA, KGB, Mossad; Where have covert actions gone, When there's guys like loonie Kim Jong; A psychopathic American, A poser with no where to run. Where have all our heroes gone, I'm just asking; Where have all our leaders gone, Not so long ago. Where have all our Patriotics gone, We haven't seen them in so long; When will we ever learn, Narcissistic liars can't govern.
0
Jan 27
Jan 27, 2026 at 11:08 AM UTC
Where Have All the Assassins Gone
It’s been known that “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” Yet society seems to want to forget this very quote Are we willingly ignorant, or have we forgotten That a land composed of bloodshed Will end in ruin? Do we not know that the Sandy Hook Elementary School children Would’ve been able to vote this year? Do we not know that giving guns more freedom than humans Will only result in more tiny graves? Are we aware that the law people are using To excuse sending away human who only want to Live Is the same law that allowed internment camps to be legal? Do we not know that these arguments wouldn't be able to make exist If not for Mother Earth? But we still want to sink our drills into her Like wicked parasites. We shame women who are too terrified To tell the horrors they have lived through Yet turn a blind eye when they say that An abuser becomes the leader. German soldiers in World War II Thought they were saving their economy and Protecting their nation But history only remembers them as the villains Why do we refuse to see that we already know how this plays out? “A country that runs on the blood of its own children is doomed to crumble from the inside out,” we scream. We scream and we scream and we scream, begging for people to hear our cries. Hear us when we cry out that nothing will come of this except enough bloodshed to bathe an army and more corpses than there are living. Hear us when we say society is evolving backwards so we already know the end. Hear us when we cry our warnings, mourning what will become of our nation. Hear us when we can say nothing more, buried six feet under, hear us as we plead from ever-growing caskets as you stomp on our graves. Hear us when we say, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”
0
Jul 22, 2025
Jul 22, 2025 at 8:28 PM UTC
Hear Our Screams
It’s been known that “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” Yet society seems to want to forget this very quote Are we willingly ignorant, or have we forgotten That a land composed of bloodshed Will end in ruin? Do we not know that the Sandy Hook Elementary School children Would’ve been able to vote this year? Do we not know that giving guns more freedom than humans Will only result in more tiny graves? Are we aware that the law people are using To excuse sending away human who only want to Live Is the same law that allowed internment camps to be legal? Do we not know that these arguments wouldn't be able to make exist If not for Mother Earth? But we still want to sink our drills into her Like wicked parasites. We shame women who are too terrified To tell the horrors they have lived through Yet turn a blind eye when they say that An abuser becomes the leader. German soldiers in World War II Thought they were saving their economy and Protecting their nation But history only remembers them as the villains Why do we refuse to see that we already know how this plays out? “A country that runs on the blood of its own children is doomed to crumble from the inside out,” we scream. We scream and we scream and we scream, begging for people to hear our cries. Hear us when we cry out that nothing will come of this except enough bloodshed to bathe an army and more corpses than there are living. Hear us when we say society is evolving backwards so we already know the end. Hear us when we cry our warnings, mourning what will become of our nation. Hear us when we can say nothing more, buried six feet under, hear us as we plead from ever-growing caskets as you stomp on our graves. Hear us when we say, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”
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40
"Excuse me," she said. "Pardon me," he said. "Certainly," so said, El Presidente.
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May 28, 2025
May 28, 2025 at 7:10 AM UTC
Who's the ******** Country Now
and fire's sceptre crown of blood robe of spectres dual tounges speaking stealth elites on fire for their wealth coal black tombs washed with white sepulchres proclaiming "right" "moral high ground" in the wrong they sell us all out for a song the rocket's red glare anthems made of thin air gave naught to the night for our flag was NOT THERE Oh, say, can you see? or are you yet blind? for we are not FREE we are in a bind! STAR STRANGLED BANNER thunder rolls, lightning crashes for whom the bell tolls? for THEE, REIGN OF ASHES! SoulSurvivor aka Write of Passage aka Invisible inc (C) 3/4/2016
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Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 8:02 PM UTC
reign of ashes
Today, we fight many battles. How has it gone so far? Injustices rule; Stand up for yourself, risk death. We gain nothing through violence. Our dignity is tainted. Random acts of goodness overshadowed. Living becomes indefinable. Death is felt with the warmth of blood. “I was attacked.” Suffering being witnessed and felt. “I barely survived.” Now people need to watch their backs. Fury prowls the streets, Until justice is served. Remember when we used to be free. “I arrived home safely.” A "Good Morning" text is now feared. Today it can be exactly what it is. In a few days, it's a death notification. Now we need to fight together; Great powers require big forces. Many will fall. And Eventually we will all rise. (Take the first letter of each line and make a sentence.)
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Jun 1, 2020
Jun 1, 2020 at 6:46 PM UTC
Torn Apart.
America is an untended urn, Not filled with wick of candle, But with eyelashes burned, Butterfly kisses of slaves to simmering plows, As the Whigs, Mugwumps, and Know Nothings Like Senates, praetors, and praefactors of old, In new form, snare the grasshopper pulse of populace. If we could once more lay our heads—like the universe Rests its child’s soul in the lap of its native mother— In our Indian maiden’s lap, where she once rolled Maize flour and the dusted cornsilk of our eyelashes, She could knead our eyes closed, and the stars would walk Barefoot with summering spirit through our midnight homes.
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Dec 19, 2019
Dec 19, 2019 at 8:47 PM UTC
America in 2019
I'll scale the hairs of Lincoln's beard, Leap to the bridge of Roosevelt's nose, Balance on Jefferson's brow, Then plead on Washington's pate: *America, stop ******* up. I'm slipping on the eyes Of this granite outcrop*!
0
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 3:18 PM UTC
Rushmore Tears
sometimes i think that even the flags weep
0
Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 12:10 AM UTC
half-staff
*I cry myself to sleep night after night In seek for a better life One not so suborn and filled with love. I drowned in my tears every night Just like my ancestors have night after night One’s that were less fortunate to live the life I am living today. They would tell me to let things be At least you have a place to sleep and food to eat At least you have property you can own and an education you have grown. But this is America, Home of the Brave And if no one is going to be brave then it must be me Someone needs to say it, someone needs to speak it It’s not just for the black but for people who are different, People with disabilities and people who fall under diversity. We fight so many wars but yet we can’t tame the ones inside If it’s not my country then it’s certainly not yours We have to be bigger, we have to think greater Then someone’s gender and always remember Your religion is sacred and so is your history. Night after night a soul dies A life flies away into the unknown Hoping that the children they left behind Can have a better life then their own.*
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Sep 13, 2017
Sep 13, 2017 at 11:51 PM UTC
Racism
Maggots boil from under her skin. I will never see her again. I have heart aches that stem from mistakes. I count them as they leak from her skin. Her eyes are raisins; I will never find what they last captured. Cheekbones higher than my song. My finger brushed along all that was black and seeped into her back, tripping on her vertebrae like a boy frolicking home. The cacti stand still-- while I feel quite ill-- standing in an ocean of honey. The people stand still-- America is ill-- standing in an ocean of money. You stand still, too afraid to **** an ocean of hate you tolerate.
0
Aug 15, 2017
Aug 15, 2017 at 4:31 PM UTC
Don't Try, They're Only Human Beings
Trump's covfefe caused a kerfuffle. The people's voice cannot be muffled. A real brouhaha... The Emperor's absurd and yet we hang on every word and he has every right to coin a new word to have his fits of logorrhea to incinerate North Korea to mock the handicapped, women, and blacks to free the super-wealthy from tax to trash the planet rob the poor make the rich richer and do much more.... "President Trump" is an oxymoron. Donald the Chump is a ***** Ooops, Pussy-Grabber's term has expired. It's time to tell Trump: "You're fired."
0
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 2:53 PM UTC
On Trump's Word Coinage
How do we forgive a cold hearted man Who exiled us from this land? How could we smile and cry at once? You blew gently, the fire still burns How could you desire to be so safe? When there's much more options Who would feel safer if the other's armed? But he's just protecting himself from you When my child cries my heart breaks Coz the rope of hope, couldn't hold on no more I cannot tie my life on any edges But to hang myself is shameless now
0
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 11:33 AM UTC
Rays Stuck on Clouds
must recognize our Form in the mirror, see our Face, and make our reflection as we kiss it, though it regularly sickens Us. I We are still Us, though that probably means little if it ever did; We have been amended beyond recognition from centuries of lobbing off limbs, appendages, stitching clauses like bandages then forgetting about them if we ever shower, disfiguring the pale torso of our Body politic, naked and middling before posterity grotesque genitalia dangling hopelessly, and useless between marble columns unable to unite in congress assembled erasing pluribus unum; We're our Legs, buckling under obscene weight now cloture’s invoked, the question ordered on history with yays and nays, discourse long reduced to the nuances of blusterfuck; We're our Buttocks, passing gas bills, denying a snowball’s chance of melting in frozen hell or on house floor, and our Brain, lobotomized better half yearning “Yes, we Can… …ada” beckoning the coasts, blue dots on blue dot ever browning; We're our Fists, clenching gavels while advising Mother Earth to **** up because even without her consent, reality’s adjourned; II We're our Skin—yes, our Skin—, thin- ly veiling contempt insufficiently concealed by layers of spray tan and unmarred by blood sweat tears of our foremothers and our Brow, not sweating more perfect when it's so easy to turn and follow storybook greatness, when our Fingers, callused from tweeting Little Bits of ***** which though once again retitled and re-released, remains a classic, completely unrevised; We're our Ears, nostalgic for the crack of doom and we're our Tiny Hands, unable to help themselves from popping a Tic-Tac and grabbing onto those titillating, dusty buttons on the hydrogen jukebox; We're our Eyes, heavy as a defeated queen with makeup running, blessing us all for this operant foray into madness, ever observing how our Arms, which (torches now extinguished) flail in confusion amid incalculable darkness still hoist our pitchforks low and our Tongue still grievously petitions for more deplorable words amid hallucinations of victimhood; We're our ***** ******* on progress, except which—failing to rise to the occasion— nonetheless manages to flop over and strike once more: a dis- chord in common defense of fragile white male privilege always showing, never growing, general welfare and tranquility flushed down the toiletbowl of history hoping those old turds never resurface, still ignoring the stench of injustice and the chipping of gilded porcelain; We’re our Lips–which neither Broadway hits nor newspaper clips nor high minded pleas alarmed, and with Dr. Franklin’s warning notwithstanding– We are our Lips on treacherous steps which will be all executive power herein vesting; III We're our Palms, grasping rope amid air saturated in deathly vespers, which tugs down-up toward unearned heavens; We’re our ***** pretending to be our Mouths which chide & otherize, while our Shins expose their cuts to **** bullet-holes welcoming the swift infections in what dank sewage now pours from open Overton windows, broken along with any pretense of civility; ultimately, the only thing we could shatter; We’re our Holes, shamefully enjoying the prodding and poking caresses of anarchy, be- moaning un- Equal Protection law & order bestows, depriving life, liberty, property when our Hearts, weary of the long hard due process, supremely malign centuries’ holdings; We’re our Immunity, sovereign it be fighting all insults foreign and domestic and our Voices rising in lamentation for what we’ve lost and what we’ve barely kept; We’re even our Hair, unkempt, distracting us from enduring corruption of our Blood; We’re our ***** too. No, never mind. We never had any. But She did, and class despite the strength of glass; IV We’re all that still, and our Souls' politic too, fractured much asking what Un- ited States we’re in;
0
Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 3:24 PM UTC
Look, We the People
must recognize our Form in the mirror, see our Face, and make our reflection as we kiss it, though it regularly sickens Us. I We are still Us, though that probably means little if it ever did; We have been amended beyond recognition from centuries of lobbing off limbs, appendages, stitching clauses like bandages then forgetting about them if we ever shower, disfiguring the pale torso of our Body politic, naked and middling before posterity grotesque genitalia dangling hopelessly, and useless between marble columns unable to unite in congress assembled erasing pluribus unum; We're our Legs, buckling under obscene weight now cloture’s invoked, the question ordered on history with yays and nays, discourse long reduced to the nuances of blusterfuck; We're our Buttocks, passing gas bills, denying a snowball’s chance of melting in frozen hell or on house floor, and our Brain, lobotomized better half yearning “Yes, we Can… …ada” beckoning the coasts, blue dots on blue dot ever browning; We're our Fists, clenching gavels while advising Mother Earth to **** up because even without her consent, reality’s adjourned; II We're our Skin—yes, our Skin—, thin- ly veiling contempt insufficiently concealed by layers of spray tan and unmarred by blood sweat tears of our foremothers and our Brow, not sweating more perfect when it's so easy to turn and follow storybook greatness, when our Fingers, callused from tweeting Little Bits of ***** which though once again retitled and re-released, remains a classic, completely unrevised; We're our Ears, nostalgic for the crack of doom and we're our Tiny Hands, unable to help themselves from popping a Tic-Tac and grabbing onto those titillating, dusty buttons on the hydrogen jukebox; We're our Eyes, heavy as a defeated queen with makeup running, blessing us all for this operant foray into madness, ever observing how our Arms, which (torches now extinguished) flail in confusion amid incalculable darkness still hoist our pitchforks low and our Tongue still grievously petitions for more deplorable words amid hallucinations of victimhood; We're our ***** ******* on progress, except which—failing to rise to the occasion— nonetheless manages to flop over and strike once more: a dis- chord in common defense of fragile white male privilege always showing, never growing, general welfare and tranquility flushed down the toiletbowl of history hoping those old turds never resurface, still ignoring the stench of injustice and the chipping of gilded porcelain; We’re our Lips–which neither Broadway hits nor newspaper clips nor high minded pleas alarmed, and with Dr. Franklin’s warning notwithstanding– We are our Lips on treacherous steps which will be all executive power herein vesting; III We're our Palms, grasping rope amid air saturated in deathly vespers, which tugs down-up toward unearned heavens; We’re our ***** pretending to be our Mouths which chide & otherize, while our Shins expose their cuts to **** bullet-holes welcoming the swift infections in what dank sewage now pours from open Overton windows, broken along with any pretense of civility; ultimately, the only thing we could shatter; We’re our Holes, shamefully enjoying the prodding and poking caresses of anarchy, be- moaning un- Equal Protection law & order bestows, depriving life, liberty, property when our Hearts, weary of the long hard due process, supremely malign centuries’ holdings; We’re our Immunity, sovereign it be fighting all insults foreign and domestic and our Voices rising in lamentation for what we’ve lost and what we’ve barely kept; We’re even our Hair, unkempt, distracting us from enduring corruption of our Blood; We’re our ***** too. No, never mind. We never had any. But She did, and class despite the strength of glass; IV We’re all that still, and our Souls' politic too, fractured much asking what Un- ited States we’re in;
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118
speak, my loves, of your fury and disappointment. chant, my sweets, a relatable rhetoric that touches deep. sing, dear warriors, a tune that cries for safety of the oppressed of us of the world around us. fight, in companionship. as one. for there is strength in numbers. for there is power in truth.
0
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 2:58 PM UTC
new era
In the land of the free People look at an absent God To lead them the way To show them how to use their liberty They trade their precious privacy For the right to bear machinery Second amendment über alles Individualities despite casualties They distrust DC **** Consider them corrupt vultures So in order to cure democracy They bow down for authority And Christian conservatives Look at liberals in disdain Inside strip clubs and ******* Where praying holds a different meaning The United States of Absurdity Shouldn’t take itself too seriously The true leaders of an absurd world The U.S. of Hurray
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Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 8:18 AM UTC
The United States of Absurdity (US-hurray)
while I may do you perfectly. the snow angels on gasoline st., did you see them? All of the houses were dripping wet too, one girl with gold laces on her leopard shoes wore red plastic pants; totally soaked to the bone. to train ourselves to brave the heat of each others' bodies as we awaken in one small bed, one small blanket. the both of us yawn. it's so fun to make waffles but neither of us like to eat preference. I love you to death but prefer to brush my teeth alone- one tooth at a time. embrace your new t-shirt, even though not everyone enjoys a good show of a flock of crows. hand drawn indie wicker-hipster prints. coffee by the pint. you crack me up like vitrifying glass sheens of the individual bubbles in a bubble bath or the ****** glazed eyes of the monsters' eye while a shark attacks. creaky sounds of bodies mapped by fingers, tickled tummies rippled by listening to witch house singers. you crack me up, count chocula. It's Saturday, I love to laugh while laying down. everybody's funnier when they're laying on the ground. we toast to ghosts. luminous lengths of birthday candles lickediddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd d 0 y0urself as best you can
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May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 3:55 AM UTC
...dddd...