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Julian Sep 2020
I famigerate without taciturn timidity the straits of a straightened jury-rig of nesiote narrowbacks harping the accordion zest and zeal of the plenilune consuetude of a scrivello infamy sprung into the rows of rip-tide acclaim hamstrung by the decline in fastidious upkeep of the timberlask vesicles that avoid the phenakism of prismatic reformation fundamental to transmogrified simpers of dismal saturnine darkness encroaching on the parallax of realms within the dominion of the Almighty for the omniety of the usucaption of the fruitful prune in the priggish afterglow of a noontide eclipse bereaved of whispering retreat in the hallowed wasms of stiltanimity becoming an entreaty to ecumenical barbs of propriety selected without intimacy to folksy bibliopolists but rugged in sterling tribute to the true vine of the appointed ways of sacerdotal triage among a roughshod vanity of a derelict world marveling at otiose rejoinder rather than true spasms of tragedy flickering in the recessive alleles of a careworn culture. The travesty of Beirut is the bromide of current leapfrogs of sentinel lust and malapert destruction forming an ironclad camaraderie with chocolate-box langlauf disasters wed uxoriously to the penury of the brackish version of the catadromous bailiwick of despotic nescience pregnant with sophrosyne redemption at the cusp of a plaid perfunctory quip of quisling intimations of the sketchy provenance of humdingers of comestion lurking in the plodding prowl of a ribald wiseacre of a beckoned billow of trinkochre welded into a conscientious blarney that awaits the popinjays that sculpt brittle redshort fictions into awakened carapaces of a limacine reduction of impoverished fulmination into the neatly sworn footprints of a geotaxis shuddering with magnetism only in spectacle without the overhailing zeal of vintners who specialize in curtailed wine drawn from Caiaphas and soaked with the muddy turgid Siloam as avenues toward the repentance of asunder becoming marginalized as a whimper of taciturn choleric war receding not even into an audible delope as the masterful chryselephantine assault of cryptic auditions in the theater of effete refuge sink into the pelagic oblivion of a remarkable blister festering into inconsequence as the rebarbative emoluments to tattered travesty hearken a battle-cry yet emanated in the reprehensible bulwark of the gerendum of a poised plastered humility aggrieved with such friction turgid on rollicking magpiety that even the larceny of brutish renegades of triumph sink beneath the brevity of accident rather than the fortitude of globalized turpitude weakened by the improper demarche of fuliginous homeless depredation of innocent bystanders flocking to the harvest of war found in insight rather than the perfunctory bromidrosis of the macroscian enmity of hidden maleficence spawning a credenda that is spayed on arrival in the faineant zoolatry of a spelunkers’ madcap dash to flex the filigrees of turmoil in resentment of the amicable truces of a God who never tempts and a lurking lie that never itches for trigger-happy hapless rebukes because the skittish skirmish of futilitarian repose is a scoundrel of the profligacy of errant weakness blinkered by the humdrum din of deafening semaphores of provocative thornbush on the threshing floor of cowardly imposture president of all affairs of spirit and all renegades of caitiff megalography of forgotten oblivion despite the curglaff of vindictive and never vindicated assaults on the integrity of the birthright of Lebanon to wager a presumptive gamble of trifling retribution for the alacrity of suspicions eloping with forbidden mistresses in the humdingers of flackey rather than the troudasque harbinger of a lunacy impugned by a restive triumphant fallow time seasonable for a litany of pretenses demassified for a liturgy of seances with eldritch commiseration in the saw-toothed serration of selachostomous bravado wielded by likely or unlikely culprits of ravenous ruin shepherded by the guilty cardinal sins of the complicity of explosive vanity marauding on the ruins of a fortress debased by pettifoggery of internal excuse rather than the wrath of provocative ire in the irksome cauterized wounds of the inured to deliver spectacular reticence despite such grievous diacope. Evil gilderoys of maleficence carve the sapwood of the periphery to aimless subversions miscarried by the modern atrocity of glamour memorialized as a sound-byte underminnow of a roaring rhombos rip tide as stocks wavy at the curvature of edgy demarche despoil the denuded wasteland of cultural despondency a wagtail to the impudence of famigerated affronts that deserve a sterling recompense wielded by the onerous and operose burdens of a prone decubitus of aboriginal bread seeded from Heavenly realms dissipating into the roars of blinded conflagration too meek to even exist on the ramshackle hillside of a barnstorm of aggression powerless to encapsulate the nexility of unspoken allegiance to destruction rather than the halidom of consecrated marriages balking at the caulked provisions of a slugabed monolith of craven capers on the recesses of abeyance in the interregnum of a time where famous people communicate with me. How can such a charismatic bravado of lurking presidency stoop to the denizens of usufruct in licentious latitudes on the outskirts of consideration even pretend anymore that the vacuum of effluvium (Gal 6:7) can be mocked and milked into the row of centuries blistering through the calenture of apprisal and heaved awakening as the zephyrs of the Occident meet temporal juncture with the coenesthesia of a hibernating trumpery formed by the turnverein of listless lethargy billowing through fumiducts of siphoned lavaderos of hypogeiody that the underground spasms of cacophony could marvel at the historic emergence of a magnate with the most powerful magnetism of God shepherding the true flock John 10:27 because he is willing to be the good shepherd and potentially die for his sheep John 10:11. Remember, whenever you hear a Queer Studies Radical Feminist bloviate on emasculated sardanapalian posture John 8:44 and even though personified as a masculine titan of bulwarks of immense otiose wilted inkburch shielding the world from true meaning, the maskirovka of the Devil is present in the dark trespasses of personal abandon among the wilderness of many marsupial jackals of martles wagtails to an invictive proclamation of invulnerable sappy sopanaceous filibusters against hefty sinew forged the bony fragments of the charnels lost to brief epitaphs never mourned in threnodies worthy of remembrance that the departed died with us and live again through us whether in Heaven as participant or on Earth as an acting battalion of the skullduggery of the mystique of shimmers of God acting on Man’s behalf 1 Col 1:15-16. That the firstborn of all creation obtains supremacy through the finalisms that I seek as the captain of trailblazing untrammeled roads we are reminded of the narrow and wide gates expanded by the explosion of thought that trespasses into the hidebound ratchet of a reasonable bleat becoming a harsh outcry of justice for Lebanon that they feel so powerless in implosion what could aggrieve potentate civilizations to the precipice of global maleficence in destruction. Swarming for alveolate hominid hominism as an outgrowth of alienation by design polarized spectral dangles at jaundice flamestun by the ordeal of oppositive barnacles to the chryselephantine habituation of a masked menace of Procrustean authority to muzzle the free license of armamentariums of a latent man keen to the kenspeckel visibilia that we might have punctuation in the poised primiparas of a hearkened unprecedented in modern history that the traipse of lapse is no longer the tenure of mindless calculation of authoritarian gabble sentries of a mobilized fleet of embodied human ignorance but a foisted sprite of whangams of apothegm that deserve in their gnomic respite from the phenakisms of a philogeant kumbaya assertive in its treony of radical compassion for those who dwell in tentpoles of revelry bound not to the covenant that sent us into light and sparkling in hidden obsolescence that the fulgurant words of Mount Horeb (Sinai) are both immaculate and without trace of sin because Acts 17:30 declares a powerful truth lost to the twinges of time that issued peremptory governance of my theology but through remission I admit the grievances of septiferous blockades of ponderous plodding nescience haunting the spectral aubades of paeans to a high-flown sun darting through galactic space apace of the velivolant sails of divine wind that come in the spree of recompense authored by the vines to which all roots belong rhizogenic and immutable because the demarches of time forget the marches against the cauterized grime of new-world suspicions of aleatory fickle gubernatorial proclamations that issue reverb more than sprinkle flanged atrocity in the sight of the holy ramparts of an active double-edged God who reminds us of our many witnesses but provides not a single latchkey of escapism resident to many hapless homes of the drunken sing-song rhapsody nullifying the psychotaxis of the motatory miserly Draconian charades of Leviathan grasping the tridents of warp-speed revisionism in a benighted world overrun by mandarist fictions that fumigate a pasteurized control of cultural malcontent in situations of dearth infested by the concentration camps of China that remain unheralded in brumal and brutish indoctrination spared from worldwide outrage by the tribunes that are complicit more in malfeasance than they are celebrated for the herald of heinous bletcherous crimes of abecedarian abligurition anointed in waste rather than refined like unquenched slakes of eternal water so that no man can thirst hungry for the daily bread without returning to the providence of God awakened. Recalcitrant by the impudent quislings of repugnasket flarmeys of advenient flummoxed besieged clairvoyance I bask and beaze on the light that never fades because of the brackish whisk of a barnstorm of allegiance that is contumely to a bromide society listless in inferiority of intellect to my former streaks beyond jejune reiteration of the Jehu mentality against the canine fate of Jezebel and her faltered ministry of ewnastique waged as battalion gore of a trifling musket of an aboriginal swim through the oceanic gaze of peerless eternity squirming because of flagging resolution among the spandrels of incommunicable largesse lolloped extravagantly not just for the spoils of hyped pedigree but also a chamade to Heaven to enlist the purblind vestiges of a crambazzled Earth rejuvenated in adolescent esprit rather than callow eclat against the outrecuidance of whimpered miserly conscientiousness that exists in a shorter frame of reference than the provident dashes through a furlough of time and ancestry to cobble together a lapidary bristling excoriation of the tumescent squabbles of mystique brave enough to rarefy the humid pasteurization of a mannequin kenspeckel still-frame jilt of jostled infamy brusque in its curt envies borne of still-born promenades of a whasper between the youthful ligony and the intrepid soul of a collective warrior debased by the adscititious participant to elegant effronteries of the newfangled intellectual vogue that is the grombang of the tralleyripped hamshackle of ostentation meeting mirrored paralysis in sheepish ewnastique creations meddlesome in their ironic frizz of recursion as I lounge on the habits of creation by intelligent lurches of design that appointed the demarcations of all creatures and the mysterious bridge between the missing links that remain elusive to the flombricks of the misery of epigenetic rhizogenic imparlance of desuetude cringing at foresight littered with the disaster of ravished hindsight blushing at the limpid degeneration of the vapid varnish of benighted ligony rather than heroic strides of stoic-epicurean compromise in the apolaustic pursuit of the one eternal God present in rebellion but never the temptress of mendacity and mendaciloquence because the tug I have on speed is ratifying a cauterized casualty in the spumid betrothed wicked snuffs of extinguished furor for a time beyond barnstormed racloir rugged origination and faulty phenogenesis that escorts mythos into actionable litanies of the awakened breed scoffing at the inkburch of “Electrolytes”-wernaggle that besets the queer fascinations of a warped generation. The pytherian swank of artrench embodied in the recocted rendevation of hypetrophy in hubris swaddled by the reductive dranger polluting the realm of compliant complicant complaints of the ashowel of albatross astroud in the hibernaculum of langlauf rather than the ultramontane fiduciary tether to the estrockentch rather than the laureates of plevisable courage found in truest shades of vinsky not the subhastation of a gaslighted galvanization of purebred classy swivels of opportunism nor the ravenous incubus appetite for usufruct in subversion belongs to the behest of an insular nesiote flexing the flux of subversion as the candid posies of saccharine immodesty become relegated figments of the everlasting age of promised propriety rather than rigid stultimathy of hackencrude virtues of virtuosos that marvel at troudasque wonders occluded by the girlcott of Team Biden and his militarized soldiers of desiccation of trumpery and the faucets unbounded by swanky concealed epithets of regaled rentgourge by a hapless objection of the runic destruction of apothecary leniency becoming of the betokened emblazonry of scrimshank in every perfuncturation but embodiment of character shouldered by every chasm of power erected in demolition of the warped egintoch radicalism of the submerged wernaggles of the hopeless minority swimming with autodimplage few have to bear but the truest flock of God heeds my voice and has the sapience to spare themselves of contumely and invective to hearsay of invictive triumph beyond radioglare swirk to renege the musical providence of the chamades to the asterongue I often take for granted by immunifacient degrees of the foretold encroaching upon the crux of a pivotal and pivoted destiny not distant from cordial providence. The sweedle of epigones for the risctender of obligation to subvert the coryphaeus with the rigmarole of gentincture borrowed from the Gates’ formulaic effleck of perverse warbles of collectivized contrition for abetted cultural pederasty limpid in its achieved objective of the crudenzy borrowed from a lacking impediment to arentrum belonging to the knowledgeable happenstance of the glorified dengonin is a denostram that forestalls the agelasts behind porsters of culture rather than legitimate mainlined contamination of wellsprings of fliction of paranoiac enthusiasm might swim in kinkativy blinkered blind piebald girouettism but never dauntless in sematic entrenchment of robust dilettantism as the swaddled corrugation of time into centripetal ****** against centrifugal modernism that alienates propriety while estranging by vacuous vacuums the outspoken progeny of the surviving age beyond the Jay and Silent Bob travesty that manifests as a glower of menacing Bushian invention to tarnish with ****** mythos the drapes of a defenestrated realism of the flinkers of sheepish indignation against many drakstings of intonorous sclerotic mandibles of crackjaw chockablock annihilation of core precepts and institutions indelible from the face of a quixotic entreaty of a ragged intrusion of ageotropic monoideism above the secular-clerical fidelity of honest witness borne of triumph and tribulation festooning the nativist hyperbole into a useless effigy of mountebank imposture silly in precision and purblind to gallantry. Yet I must kisswonk rather than truckle under such ponderous pretense because of a sertivine certainty in the thickets of prudence rather than the tomfoolery of humgruffin impudence scaffolds me to a post-modern ****** that shanks through prisons of guilt and burrows an interrogation of reality supreme over all complaint that the virtuosity of the Gifted (the elect flock that comprehends my volcanic diatribes against mandarism and stomachs them without sardonic pastorauling insults of passerby vicissitude) will spare many nations of awakened perjury against human instinct in the fitness of nations to denigrate the populist squalor of lurid and livid ewnastique wernaggles of the listless buttress against my formal modesty encouraged in all affairs even in aggrieved humility belonging to intimidation rather than spawned jostles through the rumpus of shunamitism that might rankle a later age.  Yentrified morality is a personal flapdoon against the promiscuous pederasty of freewheeling ophelimity and the lurking narquiddity of the traindeque of donnist hedonism to hijack my psychedelic tolerance into an unwarranted and inadvisable sanction into the netherworld of the frinterans of cultural modality that curdact religion into a cosmetic cosmogony rather than a soldiered infamy becoming a beacon on a towering hill growing in solidarity with the pleonasm of existence itself which surpasses crude formulas that already abide by the riches of decorum too much to be admired as trigger-happy fools run the asylum of domesticated irony and the librettos to downfall rather than the wassails of “The Man” becoming more masculine in featured charisma rather than defiled against Leviticus among others who preach belonging to nuclear creed without fission but for true rapprochement to the fusion of the treony with legitimate gripes of unsung complaint among the masculine minority. The traindeque of a baseline complaint aggrieved by the kilmarge carapace of stiltanimity for the hackencrude resentment of the inkburch of illiteracy is a profligate degeneracy lurid in hyped enmity that the envied entreaty becomes the despotic shadow masquerading in shadows blossoming into the full wisdom of the mature sophrosyne heart eager to pour out blessings upon a conservation of recycled epitaphs becoming hearsay in a rebarbative convolution of redacted rigmarole incendiary to whittled henpecks of political engineering but never vapid in their flagging insistence upon an ecumenical toleration of the brooks of modernity and compromise upon which much felicity is aggrandized and permuted against the spoilsport frinterans who encage a dodgy moralism in wilted etiolated jaunty pedigree that espouses the maudlin grievous and ghastly ghouls and sprites that haunt the fictional hobgoblins of the Potemkin Village that finds usury convenient and perjury even more facile for the glib facetious engineers of modalities of hatred unsung by the ribald witwanton “I got a Solution...You’re a ****…South Carolina What’s Up” crowd that never marvels at ingenuity or rarely attempts it in the summit of the climacteric jaundice of hidebound whemmles of ridicule sparring against spartan flagitious wiseacres of genocide of ideation for the revelry of armed missives denatured by raw promotion of the questionable ethics of a flavork of needed slakes of unquenchable desire swarming us with daily temptresses not of wayward women but the disarmed pretense of a lapidary rejoinder to a long expatiation or harangue against hackencrude curdles of rowboat injustice masquerading as sentinel savory destruction of the towering edifice of proclamation. There is great menace in the casuistry of sophist philogeant philocubists dicey with destiny for mincemeat puppetry against sciamachy for the gallionic rise of gammadions in the craven lore of baseline pasquinade rallied to the insuperable causes of tribal shibboleth anointed by secular totemisms of fracture and fricative hisses of lineage that amount to pleonasms of brassage rather than mystagogical mystique of the prestige of human fraternity that shatters paradigms of creed and invites an honest vestige of Noble Savages to roam the Earth yet again unencumbered by lugubrious welters of misnomer and malapropism wagered by artifices of guileless supremacy that is cursory prima facie neglect of even the sororal duties not of sophomoric glib facetious cowardice of backbited backlash of venom militarized for the desuetude of entertained visagists sculpting *****-nilly their version or verdict of decisive apartheid when we should all rally behind the united frontier of the chosen flock in the chosen generation to truckle beneath the pews not of ignorance aggravated by the polluted kilmarge egintoch puritan barbs against publicity choices I now regret (as an emolument to an incredibly euphoric track with a poor miserly message to the enchanted flock inoculated from such diversions) because alighted upon the quenched thirst of salvation I will be judged more harshly as a teacher James 3:1 than the rest of my flock but gifted with the gratuitous salvation carved from the chiselers of ribald infamy capering around with dacoitage and ladronism of the bomans of unsuspecting quixotic caprice I must reckon with the burden of ghoulish shadows on the spectral imprint of my eternal soul relishing in vicarious splendor yet bereaved of quintessential love 1 Cor 13:4 that is necessary for the nuclear conclamation of vibrant hues of resplendent and refulgent providence necessary not from a dynastic perspective but from an aimed providence that alerts dynamism rather than chides with mimes of useless schadenfreude carved from the prestidigitation of the wicked condemned in Galatians 6:7 for the mockers of sanctanimity accorded upon me as gratuity that no man can boast my elite ears and my astute wonderworks of imagination qualified me for prophecy and among the most mesmerizing prophecies registered to fulfillment that the world has ever yet witnessed because the watershed isn’t a bridgewater for the chavish of ignoramus hatred congealed into thrombosis but the narrowed gate enlarges to encompass the swath of man amenable to the flocks that escort me into permanence rather than regale the tridents of a hedonism that elected me clairvoyant at a cost of immaculate splendor registered to the holy clergy of the Sacred Catholic Church and the broader Ecumenical Endeavor that tries to be a seamstress and bridge elemental divides inherent to divided approaches to liturgy which flex their strengths in times of robust fortitude rather than become a subhastation to the vestiges of the pilgrimage to false tabernacles erected by people cozened into charlatan endeavors by the pernicious and persnickety whiplash of Least Common Denominator subversion of widely heralded sentience and sapience enriching the lot of human ambition rather than stoking useless conflagrations of refracturism accorded to the swallock of primposition of the hackneyed hackencrude that swivels with the odious ornery pretense of overtures not to apertures and lychgates of the true abiding Heaven felt on Earth by many Christians whether in sobriety or not without the evil maleficence of a misguided donnism of narquiddity for the grambazzles of aged recklessness aborning on vacant responsibility that is rickety in its magnanimity of absolution because of the ulterior chase for bottom-line top-dollar oligochrome foisted by the cartels that blind true spiritual insight from ever reaching the magnitude of ambition required to shape mountains of revolution among the tertiary squabbles of a conversant Earth open to the troudasque gallop into yield and cloveryield for repcrevel reforms the paludism of the swamp remains skittish about conforming to because objectivism is a renegade of perspicuous light blinkering in hubris and gourmandizing the hinderbaggle of cosmetic pollutions aggravated by the plevisable articles of envy and TLDR politics to “Electrolyte” logic that is a sad recursive wernaggle of the useless buffoonery of humgruffins of tatterdemalion spate rollicking in the magpiety of a timid consentient faltering myth of unanimity among the beleaguered rainbows of many lugubrious tears showering bickering blasphemy upon the mockery of God for the pleasantry of self-aware sheepish resignation that professes only that any form of meritocracy is existentially unfounded only because the beehive elected its progeny the scepter of the ironclad kingdom that wages war against idolatry and serenades heaven with luxury simultaneously. We are all shepherds of providence and there is power enough in collective prayer that we don’t fiddle around with bodewash in mistaken identity but riddle the persnickety blemish of the fastidious critiques of biting sarcasm as a tantamount blasphemy and a criminal repartee of sardonic cloys of inanity foisted above truth. The peevish breedbates who scour my evidentiary pillar of chiseled vertebrae of unbroken bones of solidarity with oikonisus will be sorely disappointed in their truthful audits of my true perception because in every single case it exonerates me from the pulpit of menacing idiots who scrawl random gabble in attempts to sound smart while reeking of iniquity wrought by the gavels of predevoted inferiority of complexion and attitude that gravitates them to an insensate benumbed transmogrified bailiwick of an appalling atrocity of mythomaniacal myths spurned by consensus among those who prize my grandeur above the superstitions of the illiteracy of the rancid rankle of otiose stupidity writhing its own sheepish envy of arbitrary dislike motivated by feminist aggressors waging warfare on turf I already conquered by swaying the intelligentsia to beckon my cause rather than pillory me on a false scaffold of frinteran abuses of the nyejays of bernacle that junediggle in the taradiddle of the nanciful excoriation of my leaden corpse weighed down by the witchcraft of connivance trayning its own delicate myths while avoiding scrutiny for appalling contumely that deserves an audience more suited for fracklings of treony belonging to the trinkochre of the rising alienation and suicides among perverted gay indoctrination that is a scourge on the planet because it willfully denies with its portentous hibbles the regaled wisdom of the culminated age against renegades of apostasy and for the behemoths of true monumental change that sizzles in savory circles among the vanguard only to alarm the Status Quo hijack of my entire endeavors as a covert crusade to use wrecking-ball fashion tactics to cosmetically incisively and insidiously perform a harprick of surgery upon a blameless countenance only for being a thorn to wragatek wragapole slavery which wages war against universal salvation because it gripes with inkburch and circular pleonasms about the most obvious glaring lies and feasts upon the serrated edge of the capers of hatred that frolic in meadows too skittish to enter the barbarian fortress of my forested residence robust in fortitude and glowering with a menacing contempt for runaround psychobabble that obganiates the obelisk of the moribund crusade to make normative ethics effeminate and to enthrone inviolable women’s speech as supreme to any male objections like the Cristiano Ronaldo accuser that came forth 8 months after #MeToo one of the most dishonest campaigns in modern history enthroned by Hollywood elites in gammerstang insurrection against pay-gap ethics done manipulatively with the sapwood of mendaciloquence like Blasey Ford whose physiognomy reeked of maudlin pretense that was so ornery in how obvious of a maleficence the intrepid Abortion Agenda has over the minds of selfish women who prefer ecbolic second-term abortions to the servile gripes of primiparas building new life rather than tearing down the scaffolds of new generations. Hominism deserves its rise because-in increasing numbers-men are derelicted by society and coerced into vapid tallespin enslavement that ridicules itself with the perjury of soul to the soulless vanity of recursive cycles of benumbed narquiddity found in “****** Hero” among other atrocities littering the human fascination with the hinderbaggle of our polluted age verging on totemic blistering hegemony of a few rotten apples corrupting the vagrant ingenuity of the forgotten champion who ushered in a new era of candor in the attempted interregnum of the United States government because I Am Hollywood got the name correct considering how many memorials there are to me in the movie industry. The junediggles of sc-ha-den-freud-e which is as deliberate of a German pun as JUDEn JuDEN which shows the German language is as farsighted as you can get and why many of my neologisms have a German tinge to them. German is an elegant language with botched syntax but a peerless repertoire of vocabulary and even though I love French, the Germans are smart because their language is smart not just because of petty arguments of pedigree which are specious at best. Being dontolesque with  the zenkidu of rengall nauclatic mythos is an artful degree which accords nominal prestige to licentiates while excorifying the obvious metaphors of sunblind logic that scours the scorched Earth of internet diatribes of sophistry and dethrones the Marcie Biancos of the world “Heterosexuality is officially OVER...K Bye” with her 145 IQ and a Stanford Degree in Queer Studies (A professed atheist by her own Twitter admission) with the warped logic to equate a heterosexual relationship for a woman as ******* to patriarchy. For someone that well-studied in literature she sure is a dumb-*** and I will demolish the syntagma of those that root against me for Status Quo preservation in the official interregnum of Saturdays during the Trump Presidency. We need an official referendum on the ideas of termagant illogical anti-egalitarian poison that derives from a deracinated worldview that doesn’t contextualize how powerful language is at shaping thought because if the entire world were Anglophonic every single country on Earth virtually would see immediate dividends in terms of intellectual creativity and limber with concepts and percepts because it is no accident the most successful empire in History the United Kingdom, was favored because of its shibboleths of Shakespearean creativity draped with flairs of the irreverent while gilded by God to be a majestic commonwealth. England and France monopolized a huge majority of history by no accident because although English might be a slightly keener language the French culture of salons of freewheeling intellectual enlightenment gilded the 17th and 18th centuries into absolution despite the Panglossian epithets of Voltaire who was ironically dissuaded from religion because of the All Saints Day 1755 Lisbon Earthquake and Tsunami. We need to be vigilant against encroachments of perceived shibboleths and more keen on an affirmative meritocracy that favors the poor and blesses the meek in their poverty and inspire ambition among them to join the coteries of refinement in thought sometimes harder to achieve with crackjaw lollops in pleonasmic languages that fail to articulate with nexility or forceful wit the true abstractions that govern the pataphysics of the unknown. Language is so decisive over human thought that it is incumbent upon every language to refine its vocabulary to trayne compendious verbiage and trim the hedges of global reform to invite the curiosity of the age to favor all creeds and languages of Abraham and the diverse progeny of a variegated panoply of majestic feats common to all parlance and capacity beyond just the Anglophonic snare because the world needs not a chicanery of blustering churlish buffoonery but an Almighty respect for the consanguinity of all to God’s blessed creation that he inseminated by his deliberate hands to enrich the world with diversity rather than cleave the world with piecemeal skeumorphs of radical propaganda that opposes the modern and post-modern egalitarian streak. One wrong must be corrected, however, the underrepresentation of Hispanics in the media and in film because this grave error is much more pervasive than the ******* LGBT inclusion narrative because these days the lollygags of fashionista odalisques with Obelisks to Baal get more say over the common decorum than the marginalized bronteum of the  rich and vibrant Latino culture which is squelched by the poverty of media and Hollywood representation. Synectics showcases how a henpecked aim at the synaesthesis of culture congregated around our Almighty Father blessed among the nations who adhere to the progeny of Abraham can be more blessed when working together rather than tribal with nepotism and aristocratic in sustained affronts to the elevation of affirmative meritocracy to the forefront of discussion rather than the froward backlash of benumbed narquiddity because the synallagamatic nature of complexity needs to be devolved with industrious ambition to all cultures and the savory flair of the vogue needs not merely a wednongue fascination with an eventual terminus of crudenzy but a sustained intellectual reformation on all fronts to standardize the English language through Hollywood and the Music Industry so that the dragnets of appeal etch a permanent trace into the engraved souls of the true flock John 10:27 are consecrated in divine purpose to reverse the Babylonian Diaspora of confused and conflated purpose that stunts the raltention of humane course and the proper pataphysical syncrisis of an evolved mundane temperament that transcends the circular traps of circumlocution common to the milquetoast industrial titans who winsomely charm with toady gestures the elitism of a moribund philosophy of intellectual thought delegation to elevate the common rhetoric to reach new pinnacles in both tribune and political gamesmanship because higher standards are required even when they surpass some common understanding so that every ambition becomes a conclave for the goal of human unity solidified by the truth of the kerygma and proclaimed to all creation as the culminated synclastic reformation of the idea of indulgence and the propriety of regaled moderation that appeases the common decorum with a shared vested interest in Latin America especially which is besieged by the cultural tenets of obrogated specialization and denigrated by the common myths of warped phenogenesis which should be debunked as a wasm of hypocrisy limited because its callous tentacles lack the charismatic fulgurant equipment of future generations to bear the operose burdens of a quintessential time of harmony united by the hymns for God by God to appease the sentries in Heaven and the celestial realms that exist for our merriment more than our detriment. The sprauncy have the  frikmag to recognize the spuria of apocryphal heresies that encourage kinship above matriotism and shared fortitude for intellectual valor rather than “*** talk TLDR” hashtags abounding on the turf of the insensate wernaggle of clueless charlatans wiggling through life not because they were borne into slavery but because they choose to be Helicopter Parents of “Baby Shark” rather than token mantelpieces of enlivened culture shimmering with radiation of Gods glory as cemented in Colossians 1:15-16 because the firstborn of all creation lives in some form in the ligature of Christ 1 Cor 12:12 because there are so many talents that exist in our variegated world that the mastery of expertise in dominions of conversant fluency will abet the variegated crops of a draped humanity corrugated on its own ironies for the delicate sizzle of beatific felicity multiplying itself in centupled design over centuries to overcome hinderbaggle while realizing the fictions of some drawflark. The strigine world concedes to this upstart rooster maybe considered a parvenu of dearth but luxuriant in riches boundless to all that draw near to the kerygma of Christ and feast on his daily bread found throughout liturgy because we should listen to people like Cardinal Timothy Dolan who is exceptionally astute (perhaps an understatement) to guide us on a regenerative rather than degenerative pathway towards universal attempts at salvation that broach a new decorum bridged by aliens to select chosen emissaries to bridle the fissions of repartee reserved for the forlorn that balk at ambition rather than relish a new era of seditious determination against the determinist fallacy and for the mental health of those coping with autodimplage and sheepish regrets and persnickety articles of remorse because all the world deserves our consolation and desperate attention rather than the trumpery of the circus masquerade of marauding agitprop which congeals into thrombosis of toxicity as the vast majority of Democrats refuse to even hear Trump speak when he is discussing discursive solutions to enigmatic quagmires,for, if more people listened to Trump they would be disabused by the specious claims of his misogyny and white allegiances because his candor is brilliant and despite the prominent advocacy of Biden who has considerable prestige in my memory, we deserve a bipartisan syncretism that unites the world and unifies the country away from the swerve of salacious mythos and towards a rambunctious magpiety of solidarity against the secular humanism of a defunct piety to Marxist feminism which is a crudenzy among the awakened men around the world increasingly alienated by the hackencrude of wednongue illiteracy even trumpeted by the vanguard as panacea when it is a comestible form of poison. We need visionary unity where there was once toxic divisive balkanization of exclaves of limited foresight clashing with new wave awakening to the persecution of illumination itself for not a rigid hierarchy but a flexible structure of inclusion that adjusts to cultural expectancy and modifies the traindeque that strands many in institutionalized poverty especially in Latin America and India and obviously Africa too. The stegophilists of language should herald the aubade of the chavish of redintegration over the squawk of din of squabbles of internecine redacted revisionism beleaguering our lyceums with toxic agitprop even at the highest institutions of learning who balk often at the recycled auditorium of useful thought because their venal tilt is complicit in squelching freedom of thought and our schools should open early so that zig-zag-zoom politics around feldtrounds who are eagerly outnumbered by the patrons who police thought become agentic not with outspoken treacheries but inseminations of intimation to hint at the spectral mystagogical reality we are all members of despite hurdles that beset the hemiteries of odalisques who seek inertia rather than mobilization. The ribald underminnow of transparency is a carcinogen of the rampant siege of Status Quo coarse hypocrisy for tentative flings with cadged cloyed saturnine professions of the landmines of atrocious miscarriage as I soldier on in the causes of the poor and the forlorn to become enriched by the glory that God delivers with munificence so that all might be enriched by the emanations of the true vine and in distaste of error I rebuke the armada of belittled armamentariums of the cantonment of deep-state breedbates boiling over potboiler frikmag that exists as a transcendent obscurantism flowering in decisive times to warp the contextual footprint of a life served in the service of all the oppressed people as a kind of Moses figure raised by the elite and fighting for the criminally oppressed and the ****** of mediagenic hyperbole is dissatisfied by my glowering spectacles because they dismount from the equipoise of the righteous gallop towards ecumenical solidarity at untimely punctuations of juncture superseding the flictions of frikmag dethroning my righteous valor and provident sanctanimity to prowl like predatory wolves the fathers of the casuistry of mendaciloquence to accentuate the stridor of inopportune squalor of the selachostomous regimes of teetotaler totalitarian freebooters who prevent bootstraps from manufacture as they gradgrind the world into ergonomic insufficiency while I provide a Kamacho-like galvanization to the broader world that favors the consanguinity of all animate sentience to the aboriginal vine of the universe that plays with the toyed cadge of oppositive support but lends credence to a more evolved view than the crudity of encapsulated travesties inserted with jaundice against the lyceum of freedom of thought and the celerity of headless horseman galloping in partial interregnum to crown the strobic stridor of the stiver of the steven of contarianism engineered for walloped ringleaders of the renegades of heresiarch sedition in their odalisque oaths to Pagan dieties carved from the sapwood of gullible Illuminati naivety that professes allegiance to the worst whangam ever invented Baphomet and his faked cronies of ewnastique free-for-all diminutive crags in the renown of dawning light becoming cagey struthious structuralism embedded in sclerotic wasms of the wanhope of a nullified message becoming a sacred creed to the attentive while the lilt of the otiose drawl in serpentine convolution a ribald pleonasm of circular circumlocution that provides locomotive linearity rather than leapfrogged slogmarches into the province of the territorial alignment of kinship against the partisan hollertrap and the stigmatophilia of obsessive persnickety popinjay beadledom the last stronghold of the rickety resistence to this Saturday interregnum which presides over the better part of the intelligentsia if not the common pedestrian parlance because hortatory weights cannot be described in any other way than metagnostic flickers of Yellow Submarine vandalism of a pristine living animation of the humane spirit that prizes the plight of the poor and the blarney and blench of unjust opprobrium faced by the institutionalized bailiwick of flictions of gammadion gallionic posture when in fact they register as seismic entities engraved upon my Christian conscience that strictly welcomes the emigrants to truth from whatever consecrated virtue they originate from because all are capable of the same light and the same compassion of a beatified humanity rather than the relish of deep-state castophrenia which belies its own ribald gay mockery on live TV as not a single twinge of ****** attraction overtakes me in matriotic sardanapalian effrontery of a hollow but sadly hallowed vainglory of the hierodules that bury the coffers of patriotism in a sad LGBTQ graveyard of landmines that demonstrate a complete disregard of the nuclear family and should be decried as an outcry against redefined Christianity bolted to unshakable irrefragable beliefs in the constitution of man and women wed together in one monogamous flesh with the occasional cuddle of close tithes to the ******* of friendship as the slavery of sin in Leviticus 20:13 falls to the wayside because this patriotic lewdness is a vapid fatuous derangement that is a new low for the United States attempt to inoculate China from religious accord with the broader world and should be seen as a Chinese maskirovka worthy of the heaviest disdain and I will disavow America if it continues to bandy the tripwires of Chinese boondoggles under the American banner and pretend its pretense isn’t lagging under its own bletcherous abecedarian elementary fallacy of psychobabble oblivion of dark saturnine brusque termagants of tatterdemalion cloaks of the selfsame illusion of a desperation of China to wreck the United States economy and inseminate Florida, Arizona and Texas especially with the Coronavirus to swing the election in Biden’s favor with or without US Complicity to expedite the course of a virus which sees no resurgence in any other civilized country in the world while the heroic Russians, Germans, Israelis, French, British and true American Christians banish the barristers of bad taste as an acerbic poison on the wellsprings of a flagitious flag I would kneel for in the knells of disgrace if the pompous and completely inoculated missives of Buttigieg ******* continue to roam shepherded by deep state elitism to wreck the opportune moment of religious revival for petty reasons of chryselephantine gambit and gimcrack for institutionalized poverty which my ambition is to heal completely by sacerdotal deeds and consecrated prayers in the Lord whose peace surpasses the temporal despair of senectitude and comforts the grievances of the aggrieved because Galatians 6:7 is no more true than the fatuous display of muscular idiots waving American flags for turpitude rather than flogging very perverse Gay men in the streets which might be a more fitting outcome even though I must remove the plank in my own eyes first to see the irony of the detested. The doytin is no longer misguided by the nanciful derision of the vociferous clangor of the venal Gates mafia militia wrecking ball vaccination Bezos crew in Medina which is a mettle I can’t match when you own every citizen in the world in a few square miles of nesiote territory the denizens of conquest besieging religious sanctity with profane outbursts of corruptible linchpins on the public lynch of the strepsis of periblebsis that vitiates commonwealths of supreme sputtering regimented clairvoyant superlative alabaster wealth of the isangelous protectorate of the supreme God that supervises his careworn flock into the storge against the scourge of prosodemic stigma stained in bleeding heart liberal bathed tears of pseudoautochiria of Jim Morrison glaring in the face of the triads that Killed Him in the French Connection ******* of 71’ that outnumbered his hobohemia of loyal jewish bohemians livid in the rhapsody of nurture rather than enfeebled by the unfurled destiny of the Soul Kitchen he foresaw to his own pitiable demise at probably the hands of strangulation because no autopsy was performed. Although repetitive Transparent is a real anthem for oracular mystagogical transcendence a mandatory hymn for the ryseolagnus of the poetic verve of a new wave swooning the cordial progressive of atmospheric oneness with the primordial vine and the vintners that congregate on populated soil to feed a desolate destitution of synoecy or synaesthesis in the syncretic rhapsody of the subfocal ageotropic plenilune yet saturnine lugubrious toil of those that shovel through the albatross of ewnastique recapitulation to the same tired “Its got what plants crave, it’s got electrolytes” wernaggle of the hopelessly dismal inkburch of illiteracy crawling like a Hyacinth House on a vacant graveyard turf guarding the legionaires of rapid-fire zig-zags through a serpentine curvature of the ligaments of fabricated space warped through prismatic lenses of aperspectival time aspiring for ventriloquial enamored rapture upon Earthly parallax with tapestries of refulgent cascading wandering wonder that meditates its own lucubration with careworn tutelage against the wasms of dying oleaginous swelters of redshort opportunistic vultures swooping with Raven’s claws against the odometer of viewership surpassing records in unspeakable wisdom that crowds out the crambazzle toonardical wreffelaxity of the tiresome nuisance of ornery brawn muscled into a formidable triage in vengeance for Jim Morrison’s scripted eviction from Earth either by poisoned ****** or by  Asphyxiation by the French Connection avenging RFK and the cultural revolutions of 67’ in Haight Ashbury and the widespread percolation of treacheries fathomed to the most obvious degree in showmanship that it bristled as an affront so severe that even the patronage of Paris wasn’t immune to infiltration. His threnodies will always be sung with Triumph that the hallowed day of a monumental soul eluding the darkness of purgatory into the welcoming aborning light of the noontide progeny of eternal ataraxia awaited him in the stagecraft tub of blasphemy bellowing ratcheted warnings that not even the palatine grasp of a potentially divine being was inoculated from the deep dark chasm of nefarious skullduggery for boasting so widely and openly of his professed foresight to glamorous to be hidden as the beacon of virtuosity that galvanized a generation to flout the  futtocks of a keelhauled vision of sanitized purblind mortality that the fear of death rarely crossed the mind of the greatest fearless poet of an entire epoch that we may pray that Jim Morrison feasts in Heaven atoned for his sins and is at peace with God now. The substratose congeniality of marginalia on the outskirts of pederasty in cultural miscarriage owned by hierodules boundless in their lurid debaucheries that they might be remanded for being custodians of hostage to a prolific nescience  reaffirming their dying posture in the extinction of sardanapalian coverthrow of repcrevel camorras of ladronism and dacoitage always cauponate in imbibed throes of lewd AstroTurf outrecuidance glowering at sanctity with a bereaved psychobabble divorced from the purebred empiricism of true giants of industry that are almost insuperable in their extortion that their darkness in deeds of Kobe Bryants assassination do not go unpunished at least in Los Angeles. His untimely death as with many others registered on the Richter Scale because Come Clean perverts from Kansas City wanted San Francisco to win to clean the mops of janitorial revenge of the subturbary rickety foundations of a flailing moral compass so wicked in arbitrage that no subreption undetected would flourish among capernoited vigilantes of poached titanism and illuminism scarring the vestiges of enigmatic encroachment upon untouchables daring the frights of the Living Daylights of scurrilous rebukes so scathing in their menacing depiction of negligent bromides of token sacrilege and scarred sacrifice of a scarecrow example of how the prosodemic scourge of befuddled turgid pristine transmogrified heralds scampered away with pseudoautochiria that afflicted Jimi Hendrix suspiciously as well. My support is behind the justice warriors aggrieved by the Beirut explosion because they deserve a vindictive outcome that quells the quislings of atrocity of the popinjay beadledom of the unspeakable tremors of seismotic popples of unrest warranted in Lebanon the homeland of Keanu Reeves a saint among men for his peerless grace and agraceries of the smog of myth evanescence becoming perdurable swings of the humdingers of berated jaundice becoming the prerogative of the revenge of a city leveled to the ground by suspicious skullduggery and I am surprised they lay dormant for this long in their protracted grievance over the ghoulish frights of one of the most unheralded major events in recent memory. We need to highlight the plight of Lebanon so that world leaders are frightened even of intimidated people tranquilized by terror rather than enlivened by the propriety of redacted rejoinders that serve the ulterior mission of a Titanic bravery that never sinks beneath the sumptuary treacle of grombang grambazzle and supercherie of the supercalendar of poignant repined repose derailing an emolument to ecumenical solidarity. Lets highlight Lebanon as an inexcusable trespass worthy of some mighty reckoning if not a riveted war but at the very least a devastated twinge of outrage.
Dark n Beautiful Dec 2013
We have heard of so many leaders
Martin Luther King Jr. and Gandhi
so many fallen heroes
Then we heard of the man who destroyed apartheid
In South Africa,
And quickly the word Nelson Mandela
pops into our heads
The dark and the light
the sadness, the pain,
Then there’s Nelson Mandela legacy
turning the other cheeks against your aggressors
everybody and every nation needs inspirations
but to win:
a soul is require to
become such power leaders like them

R.I.P Nelson Mandela
Our
Anti-Apartheid hero
Natures timepiece resets
mental alarm clocks and
washes away the hassles
of the daily grind.
Woken up by a well blended
mixture of clamor and quietude
with various birds chirping,
running water,
crackling embers,
wombats mating
and groans made by the
chemically inconvenienced
from a site nearby.
Insects fly overhead an
unorthodox patterns
as you unzip the door
of your mesh enclosure
and step out into the
inhospitable environment.
Pressed coffee to chase
the bacon and eggs
as you gourmandize
that over the fire,
cast iron skillet
morning breakfast.  
Commence to mysterious exploits
without one second of the day to waste
down heavily wooded trails
in search for introspection
and tranquility.
Uncultivated areas where
diligent stalwarts build dams,
antlers gallop through the
pulp and sapling
while woodland creatures,
whimsical and carefree,
play and sing songs
of the jovial jungle
until the birds of the wild
pounce upon their prey
as they become a tasting menu item
for the predatory aggressors
in the vicious circle
of nature's goodness.
Sun droplets peek
behind the seedlings
and you take a breath of fresh air
as you decrease depression
and obliterate anxiety.
Compass navigates
as you hike through
the rocky regions of the greenery
where you settle down to
eat your sandwich,
sip your thermos of soup,
wild berries for dessert
and wash it down with
a refreshing drink from
the natural flowing rivers
where ducklings defecate
and fish ****.
Perched up on a rock
in the highlands,
still on this quest for
self meditation,
you survey the terrain
and observe a family tipping
an overweighted, unbalanced
canoe on the river,
rambunctious ruffians
going white water rafting
in the vast rapids and
drink firewater with the natives
until they puke from overindulgence,
a lovely couple not in sync
with their oar rowing skills
on the lake,
children burn bugs
with magnifying glasses and
sneaking smores before
healthy campfire dinners arrive.
Day breaks into dusk and
dusk into night
with vivid colors and lucid dreams.
Scowling eyes peer through
the woodsy inhabitant
with curious and suspicious
idiosyncrasies as you trekked
through the wilderness
towards the bivouac
to start the nightly campfire,
submerge in repellent
and prepare your opulent hobo banquet. Twisting the cap off the first of twelve,
vital force fills to the brim
with reflection and clarity
of existentialism.
The birds have it good.
The wombats have it good.
The stalwarts have it good.
The antlers have it good.
The predatory aggressors have it good.
The families, the ruffians, that lovely couple, the children, even the burnt bugs have it good.
But you.....
you are like the woodland creatures,
you too play and sing songs,
twisting off cap after cap
until the Monday morning
manpower surfaces to the top,
like a volcanic eruption of plutonic rock
and the predatory aggressors
of labor force swoop down
and devour you without mercy
or an ounce of hesitation.
Under the silver moonlit night,
***** of fire burn brightly
in the purple hazed skies,
through the whistling treetops,
the forest ghouls dance like
demons and politicians
(essentially the same thing),
hallucinations of shadow people
appearing and disappearing
through the flames of the fire
stare wide eyed with painted faces.
Surrounded by a midden of empty bottles, you're wet brain slips
in and out of alcohol induced comas
and a beer blanket softly nestles you in
as you hold a lit cigarette in one hand
and half a bottle of Dutch milk
in the other like teddy bear,
your eyes fall into sedation....
Jolted awake like a thunderbolt,
eyes go from closed to open immediately
and chemically inconvenienced
state of being groans in
agonizing pains
just like the ones you heard
the morning before.
Marshall Gass Mar 2014
Around the pool of chandelier light the movers and shakers gathered
in tight knots, unwilling to untangle from the policy books
intent on pushing fences further out into the Caspian Sea
across the Black Sea and encircling the whole Artic Circle
from latitude whatever to wherever.

The chief fence maker arrived with a pair of pliers
and rolls of barbed wire twenty thousand posts
and a battalion of unnamed soldiers all hiding
behind masks of make-up

" Now listen, people, roll out that spikey wire starting from here
to eternity and keep going around the globe until you return
five hundred years to meet the beginning with the end!"

A few bald heads bowed but wary of  cross-hairs
hiding along the ceiling behind sharpshooting
shapeshifters.
They knew instinctively, that unbowed head may be bowled
over and transported to Siberia in a meat wagon
for permanent freezing with the mastodons.

"Go Now, do not turn back, ever, or you will become
a pillar of salt."
The band played The Last Post
as the last post rolled out.

Peace began as soon as the war ended
and the fences were built around the entire
Northern Hemisphere.
CR Franklin Feb 2019
-I'm tired of being tired
- I'm tired of being on my own
- I'm tired of living with family and feeling alone
-I'm tired of feeling sorry for myself
- I'm tired of the impending doom
- I'm tired of feeling like a Dreamer in my very own home
-I'm tired of feeling inadequate
- I'm tired of explaining ****
- I'm tired of my aggressors playing my **** role
-I'm sick of feeling drained
- I'm exhausted from being ill
- But most of all, I'm just motherfu*king tired
Fml
Aaron LaLux Aug 2018
No Judgements [37]

Judgements,
judged upon men,
judgements,
cast upon him,
assumptions,
cast a wide net,
haven't we realized yet,
that if he without sin,
shall cast the first stone,
then obviously,
no stones shall ever be thrown.

We've all sinned so who are you to judge the actions of another mortal man?

Judgements,
judged upon men,
what is sin,
where is that line,
& how does one know,
they’ve crossed it once they've crossed it?

What's the difference between ingenuity & insanity,
between those that have it together & those that have lost it?

Only difference between a Genius & a Mad Man,
is one is more successful than the other in society,
one made a way to express their insanity in the form of productive creativity,
while the other finds communicating effectively to be an impossibility.

Possibly there is no such thing as sanity,
possibly there's no such thing as individual things,
possibly there's only one & we're all part of The Mandala,
possibly there is nothing at all except everything.

I mean,

What is Good?

What is Evil?

What are Blessings?

What are Curses?

Where do we define these fine lines,
& if we do define these lines where are these lines defined & who can say,
& how can we have divisions within the different religions,
when all of everything & everyone is just One with The Divine anyways?

Anyways,
until we make up our minds I'll just continue to write these lines upon lines,
writing lines on lines,
to try & define the Divine of this present point in time,

I write lines between lines,
so when you read between the lines,
of the lines written with lines you’ll eventually find,
that in order to find your Self you must first lose your Mind,

listen in order to feed your Soul you must first starve your Ego,
you are not who you think you are so just let your idea of your Self go,

let no line no matter how fine or well refined,
come between you your design & your connection with The Divine.

I’m,
attempting to explain the unexplainable line by line,
please have some patience because translating something ancient takes time,
& yes enlightenment is elusive but it is attainable if you just take your time,

it just takes exercising your virtues,
it just takes holding onto your morals,
it just takes letting go of your sins,
it just takes letting go of your judgements,

no need to pinch your penchants,
or itch your itching,
let go of your wants let go of your desires,
let go of your hopes & all of your selfish wishings,

there’s an abundance of loveness,
& you’ll get it all if you just start giving,
there's love yes & Love, yes, to be one with the Oneness,
you must confess then forgive your sinning & forget all your misgivings,

along with forgiving all the rest of our Collective's wicked shortcomings,

give up on giving in to their terror of errors,
& instead give love & hugs & start living as a radiant personal public prayer,

one word at a time word for word verse by verse layer after layer,
attempting to explain in measured frames the pain & the pleasure,
the spirals in this ****** cycle of survival commonly known as Samsara,
this alliance of violence & gestures from aggressors that'll continue forever,
until we alleviate the pressure from the oppressors by correcting our karma,
with the power of positive energy which when measured together,
will overcome all oppressors with gestures of open-ended pleasure,
as we become Treasures of Unmeasured Tremors in Splendor,
Senders of Centers of Lovers not tempered by the spectrum of gender,
The Bearers of Stellar Nectar straight from The Creator,
the entire Light Spectrum that comes from us Interstellar Specters,
plus every other thing & soul that’s breathing in this entire epic adventure,

as we embark,
on this endeavor together from then till now till forever,

but just when I start,
to think it’s all going to get better,
& I start to repent & give thanks to The Inventor,
I find myself sink back into the lair of Sin & Terror,
that place where we are hastily judged biasly by our errors,
& all our accomplishments are overlooked,
just because of a few miscalculated risks that we mistakingly took,
& all of our merits seem to be in vain & we feel shook like moral crooks,

because it seems we messed up once more are deemed ******,
instantly judged discriminately & forced to repeat the whole cycle again!

Judgements,
judged upon men,
judgements,
cast upon him,
assumptions,
cast a wide net,
haven't we realized yet,
that if he without sin,
shall cast the first stone,
then obviously,
no stones shall ever be thrown.

We've all sinned so who are you to judge the actions of another mortal man?

Judgements,
judged upon men,
what is sin,
where is that line,
& how does one know,
they’ve crossed it once they've crossed it?

Judgements,
judged upon men,
what is sin,
where is that line,
& how does one know,
they’ve crossed it once they've crossed it?

What's the difference between ingenuity & insanity,
between those that have it together & those that have lost it?

See,
just when I think I’ve lost it,
I find judgement,
in the form of the Self imagined Sins of this Prophet,

sure,
I am not pure,
none of us are,
never will be nor were,

but we’re,
human beings,
being human,
just as we are & were,

so,
naturally we make some mistakes along the way,
&,
naturally we take each phase case by case stage by stage,

see we are all our own worst critics,
we are all our own harshest judge jury & executioner,
citizen’s self arrested mid-sentence while in progressive development,
which in turn then threatens to take all of our merits in forfeiture,
as the fat lady sings the gavel is hit,
we're sentenced but still we don't seem to be any closer to closure,

for us or for them or for him or for her,
because the jury’s still hung,
even when everyone’s gone home,
& the cage bird as well as the fat lady has already sung,

some,
times I’m,
wishing I could escape,
out of these self projected personal persecutions,

some,
times I’m,
wishing I could escape the spiritual surgery that these perjurious clergies, attempt to perform on me by inserting their ideals into me by way of intrusion,

some,
times I'm,
wishing I could be an explosion of pure Light,
infinitely expanding into the infinity of The Divine inclusions,

instantly a Super Nova,
riding the high seas like Noah,
instantly I see how beautiful & innocent you are in your confusion,

instantly I see how beautiful & innocent I am as well,
how beautiful & innocent we all are,
& how even just to be living in this miracle called Life,
is honestly a proper privilege, a true pleasure, & real honor,

it's an honor to be here & make your acquaintance,
so why waste time with biased judgements that're made with impatience?

See usually,
assumptions aren’t worth the bother,
see we’ve all had trials & tribulations in this hard life,
so we all deserve to treat & be treated a little bit softer & with more honor.

So let me be the first to say I honor you,
& I honor your magnificent existence in every way.

I Love You,
there is no higher truth,
please there is no need to judge me,
for I promise I will never ever judge you.

I love you,
so much,
& when you love someone this much,
there is no time or room to judge.

I love you,
so much,
always have, always will, it's always love,
I'll never stab, never ****, & will never judge,

I love your every atom,
ethereal I wonder if you are even real,
either way you're real enough to me,
to still have feelings & to still feel,

love.

Love?

Some,
times we must,
trust enough to break our own rules,
to,
realize that,
actually there are no rules,

we are all free,
we are all gifted,
we are all cursed,
we are all art we are all artist,
we are all dead last & alive first,
we are all everything that’s never been,
we are all everything that ever was & ever were as you were,
& of course we are all of everything in every sense of the word,
we are every story ever told we are every song ever sung or heard,
we're every word in every book ever read we're every line in every verse,
& we often leave last & arrive first arriving in a Benz & leaving in a hearse,
& we will be love non stop & always help heal each other even when it hurts,

& that is why,
I write all of this for you,
because when the world feels like a lie,
I need you to know you can always reach for these words & feel the truth,

prove,
nothing,
just move,
something,

& do anything,

& do it for the love,
just please don’t hate,
& please don’t judge,
because this is true love,

as it be below so it be above.

So let’s move with the movements & love the moments of love,
let’s let the judgements pass & let whatever lays in the past be what it was,
left to lay in the grass that way once everything’s been said & done,
we’ll still have this emotional epitaph to remind us like a photograph of us,

& I will always have your back,
even when our bodies are gone & we have no backs to have because,
when it's all said & done & we've righted all our wrongs,
all that will be left is us,

when it’s all over all you’ll be left with is you,
& me & all of our virtues because death doesn't separate us from our virtues,
& everyone & everything we loved will exist eternally except our enemies,
& in the end my friend you’ll I'm standing in the Light of Truth with you,

so,
no judgements,
no enemies,
only unconditional love,
& all of it’s intensities,

no,
judgements,
for once you remove the obstruction of the illusion of judgements,
only then will you find where the love went,

here,

waiting,
patiently for you to return,
so remember we reap what we sow,
& we get what we earn,

so no no worries & no hurries,
no stress all bless for sure,
& don't worry Love no rush because I will be here,
always have always will waiting patiently for your glorious return…

∆ Aaron LaLux ∆

from The Holy Trilogy Vol. 2: Mandalas
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1721134158
Marshall Gass Apr 2014
Around the pool of chandelier light the movers and shakers gathered
in tight knots, unwilling to untangle from the policy books
intent on pushing fences further out into the Caspian Sea
across the Black Sea and encircling the whole Artic Circle
from latitude whatever to wherever.

The chief fence maker arrived with a pair of pliers
and rolls of barbed wire twenty thousand posts
and a battalion of unnamed soldiers all hiding
behind masks of make-up

" Now listen, people, roll out that spikey wire starting from here
to eternity and keep going around the globe until you return
five hundred years to meet the beginning with the end!"

A few bald heads bowed but wary of  cross-hairs
hiding along the ceiling behind sharpshooting
shapeshifters.
They knew instinctively, that unbowed head may be bowled
over and transported to Siberia in a meat wagon
for permanent freezing with the mastodons.

"Go Now, do not turn back, ever, or you will become
a pillar of salt."
The band played The Last Post
as the last post rolled out.

Peace began as soon as the war ended
and the fences were built around the entire
Northern Hemisphere.  

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
g Jun 2014
They say that offspring resembles the breeders
both physically and mentally
but when I  speak their faces darken
and when they speak I get upset.

I resemble them physically
but you can not tell that I am their daughter
if you look at us mentally.
Every conversation is a battle.

My father is the textbook conservative.
Pro-life and pro-guns
Anti-gay and microagressive.
How am I his daughter?

My mother is a follower.
A doe to her deer.
A foe in my fears.
How am I her daughter?

Standing 5 foot 8 in a pair of slacks
instead of a dress there's me.
The feminist.
The human rights activist.

My father calls me a communist.
My mother thinks I'm crazy.
I'm not a communist but a libertarian.
Funny how that's confused.

I march on in my combat boots.
My mother disapproving.
My father asking me if I just came back
from a Pearl Jam concert.

I march on with my feminist ways.
Spreading the word of equality as often as I can.
Telling the micro-aggressors to stop.
Questioning the Christians and the anti-gays.

I march on with my sense of style.
I don't care if I don't look feminine today.
I don't feel feminine today.
My mother's shaming me in the distance.

I march on with my tattoos and choppy hair.
My mother crying and my father angry.
They are anti-tattoo and anti-individualistic.
I don't deserve their shame.

I march on with who I am.
Because although I am their offspring
they can not change who I am.
No matter how hard they try.
Aaron LaLux Jul 2016
You live and you learn,
or you die and you burn,
either way you’ll get your answers,
don’t be so anxious you’ll get your turn…

so don’t be so concerned,
the rhythm is a dancer,
clip’s in clip’s out,
Guns & Moses in The Holy Land of White Powders and Black Panthers,
Black Sabbath,
bad habits,
religious ideology spreads like community cancer,
the oppressed becomes the oppressor,
the suppressed become the suppressors,
the best defense is a good offense,
so defenders became aggressors to defend against the aggressors,
while genetic defects leads to passive aggressive defectors,
which is why she watches the world die before her eyes,
and thinks it doesn’t affect her,
and you’re asking me why,
like I have all of the answers.... To Be Continued...

from THT

available now worldwide: www.amazon.com/dp/B01I4621OE
Babatunde Raimi Sep 2019
Please i need help
Don't leave me like this
I can't sleep
They say it's sleep-onset insomnia
But from the beginning
It was not so

Maybe it is psychological
Their pains in my heart
With pictures of them
Begging for their lives
But i still cannot sleep
And from the beginning
It was not so

Their bulging eyes
As they take their last breathe
To a journey of no return
Their offense
Victims of a failed system
But from the beginning
It was not so

Why are brothers killing brothers
Brothers killing sisters
Sisters killing brothers
Wiping out communities
For the glory of what?
Where is our morals?
The spirit of comrado?
But from the beginning
It was not so

Though obscure
We need to ask
Where are the jobs?
Who has the reins?
That has stagnated Africa
Black people, black mind
A phrase that depicts backwardness

Even the Heavens have Guardians
Nothing passes their sight
They have been enfired
To neutralize aggressors
But, can my brother be an aggressor?
Trust at your peril
That's where we find ourselves

In the Jungle
It's "No man's land"
Where the strong prey on the weak
As long as you are powerful
Or seemingly untouchable
You are licensed to ****
Africa bleeds
Yes, Africa bleeds.

Each time you strike
A wife looses a husband
The children; a father
The family; a breadwinner
The Community; a philanthropist
The nation; an Ambassador
Africa; an illustrious son

Stop cattle rustling
Stop political machinations
Stop hate speeches
Especially From the altar of religion
The internet inclusive,
For it is divisive
Stop the killings
That Africa may live
And not just survive

Break the walls
Let's build bridges
Open up your enclosures
That i may come in
And dine with you
That is how life was programmed

To achieve our SDG's
Our ******* is prime
That your people be my people
My people, your people
That we may give the boy child a life
And the girl child a voice
And build the Africa of our dream

The carnage in Rwanda
Aparthied in South Africa
Insurgency in Libya
The killings in Nigeria
Mirrors the travails of Africa
Rooted in corruption
All must stop now

How did we get here?
A people divided
Along ethnic and religious lines
Detached along tribal and economic
But from the beginning
It was not so

We are tired of bloodsheds
We demand peace
The white on the Nigerian flag
Invisibly tainted in red
Being the blood of the innocent
But surely, nothing lasts forever
For surely, justice will be served

Stop saying "Kafasasu"
As our heart bleeds
When you open up our brothers
With your knives and weapons of mass destruction
Sending them into a journey
A journey into the unknown
Oh gods of our ancestors
Where are thou?

The God of our creation
Send us a Moses
That will lead us from where we are
To where we ought to be
Our promised land of peace and unity
Equity and justice
That we may return with offerings

Stop the rustlings!
Stop destroying our crops
No life should equate that of animals
No animal should be silenced unjustly
Why do you think prayers are said
Before any animal is slaughtered?
The act is sacred
Friends, we are all animals
In different shades and sizes
But place premium on life

Once i saw a documentary
Featuring a helpless Antelope
Feeding her young
Until a pride of Lion approached
As her young sprinted
The mother waited and sacrificed
A sweatless feast for the Kings
But the Eagle watched
She could have helped
Enough of nonchalance
Get on and be engaged

Praying for Africa is a beginning
Taking conscious steps is progress
That the Creator may hear our voices
And have mercy on us
Let my people be your people
Give me a damsel from your clan
I will give you a Prince from my tribe
That we may unite

Refuse to be nonchalant
Refuse to be intimidated
Especially on the part of justice
Let us come together
As a people of one race
That we may build Africa
And the world at large
Not by the sword
But the strength of our unity
For all these ills
From the beginning
It was not so

Babatunde Raimi (c)
Author/Life Coach/Poet
George Krokos Jan 2014
The menu looked good but the service and ingredients were lousy
is it any wonder that people were getting up to leave in droves!
Their expectations were shatterred and diminished by one or two
who feigned knowledge of the main course, offerred little solace.

Instead they indulged and reveled in harsh antagonisms for their own sake
even to the point of evoking reactions that were uncalled for by themselves.
The question on everyone’s lips was: “how could one stay and survive?”
when the road ahead was being plagiarised and mocked by a corrupt academic
who had a way with words but didn’t have the knack to put them in decent verse.

It was quite evident that that person’s appetite did not extend beyond their own nose
and stomach so could not or would not even offer a compliment where one was due.
Cries of “what a ****** and what a pity!” were heard to resound across the table
by those who came and went on a daily and weekly basis in bewilderment thinking
there has got to be something better than this where the subject matter was concerned.
Then there was also the added hostility of being called a “***” by one with a name that sounded like
a woman’s in the middle of a useless argument fathered by the one who only sought self gratification
privately attempting to lure some or all newcomers to the table for a lashing at a place called PFFA.

Perhaps that was the initiation not undergone or ventured that aroused the harsh comments
to flow and continue unabated but we also get the strong impression that there is a need for
genuine inspiration and criticism that is constructive and not the opposite which has been
the case at the table for some time and whenever someone comes along who offers one or both
the onlookers there mumble amongst themselves or in private on how to get a piece of the cake
without much thought for the wellbeing of the newcomer who has been attacked by the aforesaid.

There were also present some very nicely groomed women who showered kind words and offered
encouraging comments with proper etiquette almost to the point of distraction and fellowship but
they also had their hands full trying to mitigate the onslought of the ones who were the aggressors.
At least these were the impressions which appear to have induced all those to want to either leave or stay and continue to savour any or no dessert in the form of moderation and understanding and have their voice heard in a congenial manner by one, some or all who came to dinner at Algonquin’s table.
--------------------------------
Good intentions are necessary in thought, word and deed by all those who use writing as a means for
expressing themselves in any forum where ideas flourish and are used to further inquiry and learning.
_________________­__
Private collection, written in October 2012.
Note: This is a satirical piece of writing, a prose poem if I may use the term, about my initial experiences on another website called Algonquin's Table. Although a small website as far as membership goes, it offers a broad spectrum of expression across several fields of creativity such as a poetry forum of course, prose, member art gallery (including photography), film & television discussion and review, poetic co-operation, 'wordworx', workshops, audio and music, etc. Most members are somewhat helpful offering genuine constructive criticism and some are not and it may be noted that there are quite a few who are in their sixties, seventies and beyond with strong views about the written language. Check it out.
Walid Abdallah Jul 2018
As long as we are ruled by madness, hounds
will devour fetuses still in their wombs,
mines will sprout in wheat fields, and even
the crossed light of morning will be eye-fire.

We’ll see the young hanged, wronged
at the dawn prayer. It’s an age witness
to a snarling pig fouling mosques.

When madness rules, there are white flowers
on the ruined branches, emptiness
in a child’s eyes, no kindness, no faith, no
dignity held sacred. All fates futureless,

everything present worthless. As long as madness
rules, the children of Baghdad can only guess
why they wander hunger’s thorns,

why they share the bread of death, why off
in the distance, American Indians
hover in the cold, why greed shouts them down,
every race crawling ghost-hearted.

Through blood-colored streets, between humiliation
and disbelief, crippled shadows creep,
and the madness-hounds howl in our minds.

We are on our way to death.



The children of Baghdad scream in the streets
as Hulagu’s army pounds the city’s doors
like an epidemic; his grandchildren roar
over the bodies of our young.

The wings of wild birds are blood rivers,
black claws claw eyes—all this cracks the silence.

The Tigris River remembers those days, so look
behind the curtain of history—how many
aggressors have passed through the centuries
of our land, and still we resist?

Hulagu will die, and the Iraqi children
will dance in front of Degla. We are not
to be hanged from all corners of Baghdad.

*


A river can be a weapon against injustice on the earth.
A palm can be a weapon against injustice.
A garden can be a weapon.

Among the water, in the silence
of tunnels, though we hate death,
for God and right we will set fire forever
to your refusal that Islam is holy.

Baghdad, ***** by tyranny, your children
are raising flags. Where are the Arabs
and the white swords, wild horses, glorious families?

Some of them were condemned, some
fled shameful, some stripped and gave away
their clothes, and some are lined up in the devil’s hall
to get their share of the spoils.

And people ask about a great nation’s ruins,
but nothing remains of that shining empire
that spans from the ocean to the gulf.



Every calamity has its cause.

They sold the horses and traded in
the knights in the market of rhetoric:
Down with history! Long live hot air!

Death comes to the children of Baghdad
in the smallest toys, in the parks, in restaurants,
in the dust. Walls collapse on the procession of history,
shame upon civilization, shame from a thousand borders.

From the unknown, a missile charges,
“Where are the weapons of mass destruction?”

Will daylight come again after the ****** smile
has been erased, after planes block the sunrays,
and our dreams spurt suicidal blood?

By what law do you demolish our homes,
and flood fire upon a thousand minarets?

In Baghdad, days pass, from hunger to hunger,
thirst to thirst, under the gaze of the master
of the mansion, the thousand-masked face.
Will there never be an end to this nonsense?

The curtain rises: we are the beginning.

To starve people—is this honor?
“To prey upon supplicants”—that’s the glorious slogan of victory?
To chase children from one house to another—the joy of tyranny.

These days, people have the right to humiliation, submission,
death in every atom, and the chronic question,
“Where are the weapons of mass destruction?”



The children of Baghdad are playing in schools:
a ball here, a ball there, a child here, a child there,
a pen here, a pen there, a mine here, a death there.
Among the fragments, the cactus.

There were children here yesterday,
fluttering like pigeons in open spaces.
One of these days, dawn might lighten the universe,
but for now the sun of justice is far below the horizon.



Despite sacrifice, there is a dark gluttony:
some are faithful, and some are sellouts.

Oh nation of Mohammad, my heart longs for Al Hussein.
Oh Baghdad, land of Caliph Rasheed,
oh castle of history, and once-glorious age,
the two moments between night and day are death and feast.



Among the martyrs’ fragments,
the throne of the universe, shaken by a young voice.
The dark night leaves when a new day flows.

Oh land of Al Rasheed, don’t lose hope, every tyranny ends:
a child adores Baghdad, holds a white notebook and flowers,
paper and poetry, some piasters from the last feast.

*
*

Behind his eyes, a tear that won’t break
but flows like light deep in his heart: the picture
of his father who left one day and never returned.
The child embraces ashes, and stays a long time.

A thread of blood runs through his mouth;
his voice and shed blood are one.
His features washed out; all of this world is separation.

The child whispers, I long for Baghdad’s day.
Who said oil is worth more than blood?

Don’t ache, Baghdad, don’t surrender.
Although there is dissent in this blind time,
there is, in the far horizon, a wave of visions.

Although the dream is distant, it rises. Rise,
and spread my bones in the Tigris River,
so daylight will one day rise over my funeral procession.

God is greater than the madness of death.
Who said oil is worth more than blood?
Translated from Arabic by Fogle and I.
Upon those streets the blood did run
children playing having fun.
The soldiers came cold and callous
their hearts filled with malice.
Nobody was immune no mercy shown
seeds of hatred were sown!

That day was but another in their fight
to see the next morning light.
Food a luxury all amenities destroyed
with their lives the army toyed.
Oppression and misery all they knew
surely a reason they were due.

The bombs rained down on the meek
their bodies increasingly weak.
Resistance grew the houses crumbled
and the ground rumbled.
Their faith through adversity not shaken
though many loved ones taken!

This scenario has forever been repeated
their spirit can never be defeated.
Nothing changes in the history of mankind
always the aggressors and maligned.
Centuries have passed the coffins filled
forever the innocent killed!

The Foureyed Poet.
Through human history mankind repeats the same pattern in their quest for *******! No mercy or compassion is shown! The Foureyed Poet.
We'll never move forward as a society as long as our children are left to die from abuse , sold for *** like a piece of meat , bullied by their peers and killed on our streets ..
Depression misdiagnosed by primary physicians and medicines that only help half of the affected , high suicide rates amongst our young civilians and soldiers alike , addiction rates that continue to spike .. When the nails rain down again we'll most certainly be caught off guard , zealots hung by their thumbs and water boarded will lead the charge .
Martyrs in shackles will fan the flames at the base of the tower once again ..
Woefully few ambulances will be available to minister to the dying , not enough heroes to answer their cries , political parties will begin their denial , those that remain will swear revenge against "the Cowards .."
A faith will be declared illegal and guilty , this time the Eagle will have zero pity ..
She will pursue the same mistakes of previous nations , attempt to firebomb the very soul of a civilization . The Crescent Moon has endured many military occupations , defended a long list of potential aggressors , their bones lie in antiquity , across her deserts and within her cities while the Lion , Eagle and the Bear scar another generation who will in turn castigate her enemies silver cities with relentless terroristic abominations ..
I witnessed the carnage in a dream , hate bursting at the seams , flowing like a river down city streets , sweeping the innocents into the storm sewer , oblivious to their screams .
We worry so much about nuclear weapons as we wipe each other out with pipe bombs and pistols , we fear chemical weapons while drugs are destroying our nation ..
I wonder how far the funds for one missile would go towards treating children with cancer ? The cost of one grenade could feed a homeless man  freezing on the street .. The price of one Humvee could provide shelter for the forgotten society tonight in this misguided nation of ours ..
Copyright December 6 , 2015 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
epictails May 2015
I think we ruin children by telling them
Crying is bad
When crying is being vulnerable
An expression of pain so natural
So they grow up to be ashamed of emotions

I think we ruin children by telling them
They have to become someone
When being themselves is already being someone
So they grow up wanting to be someone they are not

I think we ruin children by telling them
Disobeying the rules is inexcusable
When sometimes breaking the rules,
Is freeing one’s self from the expectations of others
So they grow up to feel insecure in the face of uncertainty

I think we ruin children by telling them
Monsters are supernatural creatures
When monsters can also take form in humans
Who exploit, manipulate and trample on others
So they grow up unable to confront even their own monsters
For how could something so unimaginable take form in themselves?

I think we ruin children by telling them
Punishment is discipline
Spanking, verbal fear to shut them up good and easy
When there is a thing called gentle discipline
One that requires less pain and more understanding
So they grow up to become aggressors
Believing they are heroes who save others from disorder

I think we ruin children by telling them
School is the best way to getting around life
Drowning in grades, homeworks and activities just to get by
When experience teaches far more important lessons
School can only teach in words
So they grow up to believing the good life is a tried
And tested pattern and there are no other ways to live

I think we ruin children by telling them
To avoid fears instead of confronting them
When the dark, cockroaches, dogs, can be overcome
So they treat fear as an enemy
Instead of being a friend, a lesson
One that teaches them to be braver, to be stronger

I think we ruin children by telling them
What you wear is what you are
Frills and laces for girls, ties and pants for boys
When anyone can wear just what the **** they want
Clothing is a choice in as much as who they want to be
So they grow up confined by what the crowd is wearing
Fearing any diversion would make them odd

I think we ruin children
By making them believe that success
Comes in fancy clothes, cars, a truckload of money
When happiness is the real mark of a well lived life

I think we ruin children
By telling them being alone is a shameful thing
When the key to understanding one’s self
Is through the painful yet productive solitude
That people so likely shame
So they grow up believing their happiness
Is in other people’s hands

I think we ruin children
By telling them outer strength is the real strength
When there are children who
Cannot lift their own chairs
But have the strongest, bravest hearts
Fighting their way into sad days
Like the heroes that they are

I think we ruin children mostly and importantly
By believing
That they are wrong
That they are too young to understand
When all the while
We could have been wrong
Age makes us not wiser
Just older
And so children lose their capacity to see things brightly
And the biggest chunk of the world’s dreamers are then silenced
By adults who never really believed in the magic of the world
As much as the kids do

So how do we ruin children, really?
By telling them being themselves
Is the least they could ever want
By telling children
That being who they are will never be right

This is extremely long and I don't even expect anyone to read this HAHAHA.  Just that this is not so much a poem as it is a rant. I could care less about the mechanics and rules of poetry but this is really important for me because this is my  (and a big number of kids') childhood. First draft and will continue tweaking this until it can be read better lol xD I have no right to question any parent's way of raising their children but this is just how I feel.
Lost Dec 2015
You don’t know who she is.
You only see her face
and hear her name.
But if you really knew her,
you’d know that she’s a fighter.
She spends her days,
overcoming the pain,
not drowning in pills.
She provides for a family,
not for paying men.
She gives the world something more,
instead of taking what isn’t her’s.
She works for a cause,
not for drugs.
A saint among sinners.
A lover among aggressors.
A light among the dark.
Bob B Feb 2022
Russian aggressors made their move.
Now they're in Ukraine.
What is Putin trying to prove?
What is there to gain?
The autocrat's messages are cloaked
In lies that Russia was provoked.

Stand with Ukraine as Russian forces
Put Putin's plan into action.
We already know that this of course is
More than a mere infraction.
Playing the role of boogeyman
Is part of Putin's larger plan.

Putin claims his forces are there
To stop denazification.
The argument, which is full of holes,
Is total fabrication.
We already know that he's obsessed
With Ukraine's interest in the West.

We watch as the egomaniac
Causes death and destruction
With this unwarranted attack--
Another Putin production!
Stand with Ukraine in this sad hour
As Putin basks in his ill-gotten power.

-by Bob B (2-24-22)
Mirza Lazim Jul 2020
It is me - Azerbaijan!
The hero of the history
On the shore of The Caspian
living manfully and free!

Many times enemies tried
to destruct and divide
Among three aggressors
we defended our pride

And the 'world community',
full of all shames and pity,
Just tell me a rotten lie
that support my integrity!

Let me hear your cry
for Karabakh, everyone!
Respect the real history!
Will we hear anyone?!

For centuries we were wronged
Will you wait for another?!
The son of my father's killer
Is beating my brother!

We faced through the history
Armenian hypocrisy
Put your hands on your conscience,
just show your democracy!

We condemn the historical aggressive policy of Armenia and the insensitive attitude of the world community.

Karabakh is Azerbaijan.
Stop believing provocative and fictitious history.
Research, respect and support the real history!
Scot Powers Feb 2013
Liberty, Oh Liberty
How I do seek thee
free from all fear of man
free to live in a peaceful land
having what you own be yours
not a slave to foreign shores

Liberty, Oh Liberty
are you just a dream
everyone has equal say
everyone has their day
walk with out need
of a helping hand
walk with a smile
gracing the land

Liberty,Oh Liberty
Hast thou forsaken me
littered lives are everywhere
without so much
as a backwards glare
abandoned homes
and broken stuff
too much dependence
on the good 'ol Gov.

Liberty ,Oh Liberty
oh how I still seek thee
to stand beside our fellow man
preserve the freedoms
bought on the sands
from the aggressors
where they stand
free to reach the stars above
free to reach the heights of love

Liberty,Oh Liberty
how I do seek thee
Stephanie Lynn Apr 2014
There is no greater comfort
than lying next to the beat of your heart
The breath in your chest
The safety of your presence
With you my soul is calm
With you the monsters can't get me
With you my nightmares become dreams and soundly I sleep
Please, don't ever leave
My big brother you say
My best friend I say
My everything every day
No bond is stronger than the one that binds us together
And we will join spirits and continue to fight off argumentative aggressors
That will never understand
I am not your woman
You are not my man
But that is the beauty of it all; we don't have to explain a **** thing
Not to anyone
We know what we are and what we have and that it's special and that isn't something you can find in everyone
A friendship so true the word does it no justice
Moving beyond friends family blood and boundaries
I thank God I found you
and I thank Him even more that
You found me
My BFF knows who he is, and he is the center of my soul's adorarion.

(C) Maxwell 2014
Nakedpetals May 2014
I once thought
eternity was written
across your lips
but really it was
temporary
that was whispered
in every kiss
your words
were loaded guns
and I'm sorry I
had to pull the trigger
if she has the audacity
to try to
love you more than I did
remember to tell her
that she won't ever be able too
our love and the butterflies in
my stomach have perished in the
same fire that they once flourished in
and now I'm burning too
your hands that carried the baby
that now gives me life
will now reach for her
and I think I'm going be sick
I'm going to be sick
the venom is spitting out
of the same mouths that
once sang I love you every day
you thought you had chains
pressing into your wrist
when really the chains
had already been broken
and thrown away
we are both the victims and
aggressors of this tragedy
and no up stander can save us
it wasn't you and it wasn't me
it was every bumpy road that
could never be smoothed over
I am sorry i could never save us
I am sorry we never worked out
I am sorry we even tried
I am sorry I loved you
I am sorry I was the wall
dividing you from happiness
I am sorry I was the wall dividing
you from her
I am so sorry I thought
this was forever
I'm so sorry
                       -k.s
John F McCullagh May 2015
The bearded man in the forager’s cap rode in on little sorrel that night.
Lee had called a council of war to game plan for the coming fight.
The Northern aggressors were on the move but they might be vulnerable on their right.
It was a bold audacious plan to divide in the face of the foe.
The Calvary screen was key to the scheme to find where best to strike the blow.
The battle would be called Lee’s masterpiece; ******’s men broke and they fled.
but the battle would also be Jackson’s last; in just a few days he’d be dead..
In the dark of May second, men rode the plank road, Jackson rode at their head
Did they ignore the Sentry’s challenge? Or did the sentry mishear what they said?
They took Jackson arm, the saw-blade did sing, but alas it was to no avail
He crossed over the river to rest neath the shade of the trees in the hero’s vale
This is the 152nd anniversary of the last time Robert E. Lee met with Andrew Stonewall Jackson to plan the battle of Chancellorsville.
Isaiah Caleb Oct 2016
"We are dealing with oppressors who, while standing on our necks, will label us the aggressors if we spit blood upon their boots."
Brooklyn Brooks Jan 2016
Cackling and Tyrannizing for the seed of arrogant greed
What a pompous persecutor is he! none for you all for me,
is there truth bound in-between the aggressors glamour?

The Company of ignorance was pain
ruptured violence with shame
The unknown was dissent untrue
yet it doesn't mean it's you

From this darkness comes this light
in the night the mocking bird serenades insight

  conscious reconciliation that will fracture the dead world that
lives inside you nearing the bridge of an imagination

the innocence in darkness mirrors back to me
A fear unseen on
memory lane

Is it true that you’re only innocent when you dream?
this is also an artist statement for quadryptic installation i made called Fractured innocence.
Àŧùl Jul 2020
1857 was some years older,
Bhaaratvarsh was still a slave.

No Hïnđū king after Śïvājī had been bolder,
None dared guerrilla attacks from a mountain cave.

No Hïnđū queen after Läkšmībāī was braver,
None consumed the patriotism wine agave.

Mughal or howsoever other tyrannical kings were,
The Colonial Age was worse and it was a blur.

Bhāräŧ knows how to make things better,
And I am sure about this administrator.

Mōđī Jī is as focused as a recluse,
And Yōgī Jī tolerates not a traitor.

Shāh Jī is the best strategist,
And the team is just perfect.

Smřŧï auntie is the best counsellor,
An example she is of the pink power.

Rājnāŧh Jī is the best caretaker,
Wise old man for the nation.

Doctor Härśvärđhän is now elevated,
He heads the World Health Organization.

Coronavirus and its disease, COVID19,
Originated in MainlandChina.

Extinction, it is threatening,
Now we all turn to Hïnđū values.

Sänāŧän Đhärmä is very scientific,
The blind faith belongs to aggressors.

The oldest **** sapiens sapiens,
In Jharkhand state, you will find its remains.

They say that history repeats itself,
Rām Rājyä beckons once again.
A tribute to the great Government of India.
We elected a good set of administrators.
Now have faith in Narendra Modi Ji and his handling of the COVID19 pandemic crisis.

My HP Poem #1867
©Atul Kaushal
Commuter Poet Jul 2016
Every day
More bad news

More to fear
Propaganda

Corruption, greed, inequality, power, ego

Have we slept for centuries
And awoken to medieval tyrannies?

This world is a stage
But we know the lines too well, do we not?

I listen but I have to switch it off

If I feed my mind with tragedy after tragedy
I will shrink and die

So, you aggressors...
You merchants of war

I refuse to buy your message of mass destruction
I refuse your rush to arms
I refuse to celebrate warring with others
I refuse to slam down my borders
I refuse to sign on your dotted line
And execute your contracts for death machinery

I will build community where I can

I will open the door for you
Clap you
Smile at you
Welcome you
Make a small connection

My gift to you will not be a nuclear bomb
18th July 2016
MP vote on renewing UK Trident nuclear missiles
472 for
117 against
Aggression to reverse
Soldiers from ethnic group diverse
Marched to the front
To heroically confront
Mayhem, death-toll, terror
What not
Ill luck on its wake
Has brought.
Gallantly they fought
And the bellicose they taught,
As their wont
Disturb they could not
The territorial integrity of
An ancient nation
For its unity
That has been
Commanding attention.

Widows, orphans
And the bereaved lamented
On what them befell—on earth
Aggressors’-created hell.

A malleable generation
By political gamblers
Made blind to
Nation’s history
How sovereignty is maintained
By an all-out citizens’
Blood, bone, flesh, heart
And soil chemistry,
Sees the significance of
Nation’s unity
A mystery.

When the sun shines
One could make hay
But not on a rainy day,
“Let us unite
During rainy day
But when it is
A sunshine,
This ethnic enclave
And the benefit
That accrues there of
Solely belongs to
My likes and mine
Rest assured here
There is nothing thine!”
“We and they” mentality
And politics is what
This generation define!”

What if aggressors come back
With bitter lessons from
Previous experience
On their backpack
Could that for the deluded
Make the value of peace stark?
Our fate will be
True to the speech
“Unless we hung up together
We shall be hanged separately!”
Because enemies
Could put us asunder./////
Some pervert leaders who got a chance to lead the country tried to to thwart social fabric following colonizers formula.Now a generation is created that does not give a hoot about national feeling obsessed by one's ethnic group.
Kai Aug 2019
whether it's for fear of starvation-
or wild animals and their predation-
we understand those instinctual fears-
that we've developed through the years-

but what of that lurking thing we see-
that screams in night like a banshee-
what made humans so deathly scared-
of a pale sunken vision with its teeth bared-

what gave us the instinctual scopophobia-
or that sinking feeling of nyctophobia-
what creature hounded our predecessors-
that we fear slunken things as aggressors-
What in the past could have inspired this fear?
Mahdiya Patel Jun 2018
I’m not the type of beautiful that aggressors with your senses all at once, nor am I the type to make the stars stare. But I am the type of beauty that dictates spaces ,I **** up air with my soft energy, and I lure you’re in bit by bit , making you uncover the depths of my beautiful
I then start ******* your fears and painting them with rose water, I feel the textures of how you think and submerge myself into the folds of your brain ,I begin to creep around in your thoughts and I implant the real me ,and this is when my beauty will overpower your feelings
Never harshly my love , by softly , like the drip of a tap, and this implantation is worse than being injected with venom that kills you slowly.
You will bow down to my beautiful , because it’s the type that takes your life slowly , the type that you don’t realize is there.
Mr E Oct 2015
From the beginning they were beaten
As peasants they were whipped
Babies who'd never eaten
No fine wines were ever sipped
So they rose against their oppressors
Burnt the kingdom down to dust
But now with newfound aggressors
The cycle spun as it always must
The Apocalypse is unleashed in the contiguity of Patmia, seeing the two antlers that protruded from his forehead emerge from the front of Moshe, shining on the Aegean Sea, and submerging to great depth. The circles on the sun were importuned with dissimilar spherical forms between the same axis of the shank that united it on the matron, who was dependent on the target. So when leaving the Water the Leviathan could not resist the attacks of the antlers, Wonthelimar appeared with his Kératas similar to that of Moshe as he was hanging with the ibics rings of him. The stratagem was to hinder the invasion of the Persians who were already on their way, just as they yearned for the work of Saint John the Apostle to ****** him from Patmian land in the concelebration of the child Messiah. The need arose to warn Vernarth that he was already in the Bay of Skalá, and it would allow him to bend his efforts. and to be more prepared with the terrifying scenes that the idolaters of Darius III intended, knowing that the force of Leviathan had been fused with them.

There were countless ships of Darius III, resurrected by this incoherent feat when the reasoning for the tasks they brought by taking revenge against Vernarth and Alexander the Great, who until now were with their demiurges reviewing the astrology of the twelve tribes that hung from the constellation that was it posed in the aquarium house, very extensive covering the hazy night before the Battle of Patmia, under the submitology that could be a spectroscopic binary. Where the light Zohar would carry the seven veils of the night to shine them in the spells that Vernarth and Alexander the Great conceived praying together with Saint John the Apostle, from where Orion also lined up towards the emotionality of the Animalia with this affront, disenchanting with all the crudeness of the pagan rites exercised by the Persians to avoid wandering in Patmian land, adverse to what they could not exercise in Arbela. There were seven hours of waiting which was equivalent to seven minutes in the decision-making process to rob the aggressors by assault. Considering it from the constellation of the Dragon or twelve tribes that were programmed with Vernarth in the twentieth of Aquarius, for later in the late one. The numerical value will be 4,561,092, which is the value of the gestation numeral of this retaliation when the apocalypse began in this celestial military grievance between two states. Vernarth created the 38 chapters up to this instance of 4,561,092, the sum of all the numbers indicated 27 from 4 to 2, making the circular from 4 to 2 and vice versa, restarting at zero which would be 24 being the circular of 42 of the origin of the lid in Patmia, which would lead to the illumination of the heavens 24 times 42 = 1,008 until the prophecy of Alikantus of this work, on page 108, indicating 24 x 37 = 888, representing the triplicity of the infinite omega-three times vertical in the sails of Hestia:

Prophecy VII -. "Second, Alikanto Aion, Quantum"

"Kalymnos, and his golden tetra steed Alikanto, were grazing under the metallic moon ...
he walked in his quantum ..., with his golden legs ..., in the four golden domes he was a super host being in Apoika Andros next to the villagers, commemorating the comparsas and adventures…, Heraklion next period, anniversary celebrant, bearing progeny of Kanti Cretan, with nearby cycles of the sacred fire, in the domestic and private environment of his zeal ... a hidden cult funeral ..., streets in a family home with sacred fertile women ..., pregnant totalized **** ... the longevity of productive and harvests ..., family Apoika
and next successor belligerence ..., in his funerary plexus ...
cultured predecessor ..., readable treaty and imprecation of law, subject and religion in a domestic scene, in a family civic servant ceremony.

Goddess Hestia austere, head with eight dressed sacred candles;
Olympus lacking without gods ..., the only embargo of Goddesses!
Female Hestia Domestic goddess, female stench with an oval to ovulate ...
Pritaneo, decree with the axis of political harvests ..., exchange grains to be mintedMonetary bag of Athens ... Pritaneus rising ford, rising ford ...Aion ... hesitant dart in the raid of eternity,
Perpetual Aion Alikanto ... Speak with both hands
synchronized and the tongue bent ...
stutters and swallows saliva, in six sinuses,
full of sparkling foam ..., Internal voice saying with her saying ...
what makes sense to feel and what does not turn off ...
sleeping voices in the poison of love igniting
intra-Vernarth love ..., billing the poisonous holy blood
in the methodical coupled time ..., Gaugamela with his bronze leg,
of a lost leader ... of a Gained leader!

If I had to run to rewrite retro poems Adhoc and chosen Trova,
of shy Trojan verse, I dare today if I kissed her in front of me…, Her! she would jump from the sky-hyperesthetic ..., in the inhuman to the world, Aion Celestine aurora, bleed your star in great defiance today In herself She ..., fetid condemnation of sweetness and aura in between her ... just be, same be, supported be ..., Oh ... Goddess Hestia against your leg disarmed appendix, meadow and vein braid ..., attacked by lost love and thirsty written everything tempts ..., everything wields obscurely if I take you to our Olympus ... at night loving you whole .., emptying everything with no other hand.
singing in the vine and the cleft of her intimate company, may she be exterminated ...

Love it if it were a nailed stake ..., it hurts by nailing ..., with stakes hurting ... exhausting the supra lips,  supra yours ..., the start of silica, I continue writing fully to her ... point of sword and blood made blurred, secret written maiden mythology, sword letter…, cyclamen balm made whole if I had you!

To the loves of the world, I say ..., cover your ears mushroom of boredom, your torn ears waste to hear rather than sordid to say ...
my blood kills, my blood revives! I **** my blood and I **** everyone with your blood scattered, and their ***** blood scattered ...?

Do not leave me alone until nightfall ... I only ask for holy water,
emptied from your mouth Goddess Hestia who flies with tons over me ... I only ask for a Xiphos sword with its sharp, ******, and scattered romantic blood ... to write to the wars of love that I have lost ... and the wars of love that I have conquered ... "

"... Alikanto says:" remember the Hoplite commander in Gaugamela, remember how with his head he dodged arrows so that they would not hit his body or chest "From the present moment that he falls by surrendering in his memory, he goes down to a stream and is imprisoned in the Vanitatory quagmire, he continues on his path reaching a jealous lagoon, he drinks sacred water and when he drinks again he manages to perceive the image of it in the mirror of the water of Aion… calling him from Patmos! Law that reminded his master of how he died for everyone in the world, just as the world would not let him bring more to die for him, because there was no more space ... "

Following Alikanto clenched his jaws too hard, all his incisors falling off, he asked the Gods in front of Hestia to restore them to him fifteen days before arriving at the Ekadashi on Patmos where his master would love all the lives of the world, as well as the hidden cries behind doors hiding the power of God… laughing at the flashes of irises and sighs for mummified lives that were left!

Vernarth, from Patmos, was calling him so that his eyes would look greenish like hooves of gray-green and vanadium fire, with humorous staining and with a clean predictive table in the near prediction. AlIkanto says goodbye to Kalimnos by sprinkling hyper-odoriferous chestnut flowers with Apoika in Kalimnos, loving from above, flying very close, loving everything so much that he forgot to fly. Sometimes he would fall hard but he would recover re-tried as a young steed in the womb of a mother and of a new species to be born! ending in the proportional one that would arrive at the residual that is the result of 24 by 38 = 888 of the Cirio de Hestia.

From this position the planets revolved around the brightness of Selene, linking to this numeral pattern in the zodiac house of de Reuben, 'boiling with water, which is Aquarius, who holds a vase or a cup and pours the waters of the New era. This is where Vernarth again takes the Gordian knot and throws it over the Matakis that was holding the world of both, where Saint John has to strongly support both of this tribulation, for the concepts of knowing how to cope with the parapsychological solar day of Vernarth, going back as it is with Alexander the Great 11 days before the Ekadashi, or half a month of the consecration of the phenomenon astral plane that would happen in the lands of Patmia. The Dragon's tail became spasmodic as it was unable to consecrate the agreement of the Over Being that found itself with the twinned identity in the twelve tribes when the bags of water fell on the Matakis, where the reverence would come from the departure of Reuben, and the blue-violet thekelet that perched in a mega rainbow over the roadstead of Skalá, turning the midwife's bags when she was going to give birth, carrying an infant with an ultraviolet Thekelet in the immediacy of Vernarth's Aquarium in its date of bi birth, and that of the leap-year that refers to the house of Capricorn with his beloved and faithful companion Wonthelimar, and the concomitance Simeon with Reuben, the latter being legitimately from the house of Capricorn.
Moshe's Kérata
Kevin Nov 2020
Children wasted in the educational facility of emptiness.
Educators preach to the untouchable.
Children untended left to defend from the imaginable.
The perverted wait to execute the unspeakable.

Children destroyed through single acts of senseless violence.
Childhoods erased, reborn to the adulthood of anguish.
Innocence vanquished to a forever sea of suffering,
Never to re-claim what the malicious have taken in silence.

Children weep in torment as their scars forever remain;
****** intentions embrace their desires:
They will search for vengeance against their aggressors,
With murderous memories, to reclaim what the wicked acquired.

The twisted remain to prey upon our communities
Without consequence for their acts of morbid sickness;
They prowl, inflicting with transgressions:
No reflection for their intentions of wickedness.

Magistrates protect the incomprehensible.
The innocent, silenced by the legal voice of recklessness.
No righteous resurrection from the fatalities of transgressions.
Children mourn with murderous abandonment.

All the while children cry and die every day!
Commuter Poet Nov 2016
The politics of hatred
Are at play in our nation
A drama of conflict
Marching in, rolling out

Aggressors jeer drunkenly
Assailing integrity
Opponents lash out
Tottering, unbalanced

Our children are dragged
Deep into the fray
Positioned by gladiators
Engaged as arbiters

Small lives lie shaking
And torn asunder
Forced to take sides
In a war of monsters

We are pushed to believe
In a dichotomous world
A heaven and hell
A right and wrong

A world of extremes
Where people divide
A dog eat dog world
Where the dogs are raging

Rabid with rage at the love
That's denied them
Furious at loss
Of a life never lived

Incensed at the dreams
They birthed and destroyed
Withered and brittle
Encased in concrete

While one is left standing
Another's defeated
Crumpled and wheezing
Ribs shattered, skulls cracked

An ill gotten prize
Grows intolerable to bear
The chains weighing heavily
On the winners and losers

The instruments of power
Work ******* the people
Wearing away
At self belief

We are told to think thoughts
That the state has invented
Daily demands  
To expose our weakness

Crushing humanity
Beneath tabloid mountains
Hatred and jealousy
Abound in this time

In this age of quarrels
And vicious reprisals
The people stand desolate
With eyes red and bleary

Hands reach out trembling
With broken fingernails
Yearning for hope
That has slipped from the Earth
29th November 2016

— The End —