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The Good Pussy May 2018
.
                        
                         Ameri
                      caAmerica
                    America­ Am
                   erica America
                   America  Ame
                     rica America
                     America Am
                     erica Americ
                     a America A
                     merica Amer
                     ice AmericaA
                     merica Ameri
                     ca America A
              America          America
           America Am    erica Ameri
           ca America A   merica Ame
              America            America
In huts and caves we hide
In huts and caves we hide
We are the Taliban
Hear our mighty cries

We search you out with lies
We hunt you down for lies
We are American
Hear our mighty cries

We sit and watch TV
We sit and watch TV
We are the hunanoids
That watch this travesty

We can be all as one
We will be all as one
We can be the peaceful Future
Ameri-Taliban

But Rockys got his hold
Yeh Rockys got his hold
Murdering all who oppose *******
For his *** of gold

Until we fight the lies
Until we fight the lies
In huts and caves and star spangled graves
Our human brothers die
DieingEmbers Apr 2013
A teacup full of teardrops
makes my mourning
coffee


bitter
Coop Lee Mar 2014
'78
we eat acid &
strawberries &
butter in the cemetery, &
feed foxes lizards face first.

the candy-colored smoke don’t smoke;
sunstruck lomograph light.
her rollerskates are last to come off;
i go south on her body.

as bottlerockets,
we muse on stars & dark.
fire we carry.

go west young man: sell microwaves.
sell particles, pastes, & patina of ameri-cult & ooze.
seek effervescence.
want nothing but to get back to her poetry;
her warmth;
yet never do.
or do.

by manifest destiny: gold bricks & beer.
skyler May 2017
somehow our country can't see the chaos we have created

we have become blind to brutality and ignorant to agony
hate drips from our tongues and we spit it into the ears of everyone around us
people are taking their lives and nobody cares for the right reasons
instead of raising our red and blue flags people are cutting and beating red and blue
         into delicate skin
all focus is on politics and economics
there is no more heart just hands
hands on bodies that don't belong to you
hands on technology manipulating as many minds as it can reach
hands on substances that block out the pain of people
hands on weapons to blast away problems we don't want to face
yet hands still over hearts pledging to a country we have slowly lost

it is a statement far from fabricated
that america can't see the chaos we have created

s.s
EarthGurl2004 Feb 2014
i'm spacey i'm astral out of my body
out of my mind unable to conn
ect to this world and it's sys
tems begging the cosmos
to restore within me a fir
e for life a hunger for other hu
man beings i often wonder abo
ut the urge to touch some
one tenderly or my lack thereof
i am unable to connect to this
world and it's systems it's worth
less paper everyone mani
festing their biological agen
das when i'm not looking mine
leaks out of my pores like sweat
i can't help but see through th
eir motive charged words but
you have potential i want your
soul not your flesh i want to vib
rate in an alternate reality with
you i want to die and be reborn
with you i wanna chew a hole
through the wall of the ameri
can psychosis rat race for
you i am awake shak
ing your body i am
unable to connect
to this world
and it's
systems
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya; aopicho@yahoo.com)
No place on earth is the center of world poetry
Each and every geo-point is a central geo-poetry
Each center in universal connexion and disconnexion
To one another in the poetic cobweb of human love
which oozes out not for fame but service to humanity
Linking subaltern poetry to the paternal muse
That has the universe its philanthropic quoith
Spokes of culture the rivers flowing fresh blood
Into the life of poetry in the globaletic realm
Each cherishing the tempo in the song of otherness
African poetry feeding the world with lyrics of negretitude
As Russia of Europe in dystopia of whititude
Sings to humanity the songs of French love
Paving the way for India to chant to the world
Into dinted dance of the British ways of the baby
Thrilling Latin America into the songs of Spain
That buried the poor dog behind a rich man’s house
Laughing Ameri-relasia at its poverty of culture
As the gods of money takes center stage
In the dynamics of globaletics.
Kaeru Jun 2014
PARODY OF "IF I ONLY HAD A BRAIN" FROM "THE WIZARD OF OZ"

(Scarecrow)
I could scare away the haters
Who ain't nuthin' but traitors
and not Ameri-cuns.
And my clip I'd be loadiin'
Fill the ******* with forebodin'
If I only had a gun

The body would be riddled
of any individ'le
Who ever hurt someone

(Dorothy)
With the shots you'd be shootin'
You could be another Nugent
If you only had a gun

(Scarecrow)
Oh, I would tell you of
The second amendment
I could shoot at people like the President
And then I'd sit and do a stint.

It would not be just a trifle
to ban my assault rifle
and ruin all my fun.
I would ***** and then I'd gripe
And shoot you in the windpipe
If I only had a gun.
It's a joke, folks. Just a joke.
glass can May 2013
Standing, waiting, my face blank, uncaring and staring
at the garish colors of their cheap and ill-fitting clothes.
Cramming in, fingers all greasy, raucously laughing,
jabbering *******, braying useless information, loudly.
Swarming, idly in hot  little dark holes of rooms, making
a suffocating stench from ragged mouth-breathing.  

Obnoxious.
******* disgusting, everyone.
Don't ******* touch me.
This is overwhelming.

"There's too many people in here."
You sidle up to me, saying what we're both thinking, and then we leave.
Both of us glaring at the ******* shuffling slowly,  in the way,
unable to meet our height or eyes, they remain glued
to the tiny screens in their sweaty and hot little hands,
as their annoying children are screaming and running.

You.
You, with your ****-brown eyes.
Silent and stoic, with a hard-edged jaw. Are you ******* me?
Like not making eye contact with me is going to shame me,
stripping me of something that you never even bestowed?
You think I'm obscene?
Mister, look at you.

I am tired, but, I am okay. I am fine.
I don't care what you otherwise say.

Alive and sober, awake and dying.

I am improving, actively evolving.
I am not devalued or retrograding.

*******.
Don't not look at me, as though I were a freak.
Don't sneer and scoff, and judge me, as meat.
*******.

You think you know me better than me?
You think you could even convince me differently?
                am I right, or am I right?

Go ahead, lock your jaw, frown and furrow your brow, you magnanimous hypocrite.
We're both autonomous, and rich, in Ameri-*******-ca, with freedom out the *******.  

You're free to judge me.
I'm free to say *******.

We both bleed red blood.
We both will do as we will,
loving, *******, fighting,
drinking, *******, coping,
hiding, hurting, smelling,
crying, begging, hating,
breathing, needing, eating,
sleeping, living, and dying
under the great majesty of

                                                               ­        A *******
                                                         ­            INDIFFERENT
                                                 ­                       UNIVERSE

where we both need to
stop thinking differently.
I choose a table in the middle
To feel like I'm part of the rush.
Regulars are identified by their silence
Receiving their drinks without need for a word.
I stumble over my order...
One small? tall? short? Fat ameri-frappe please hold the dairy...
I'm certain I did it wrong
Every hole in the wall has its own lingo
To distinguish those in the know
From those who wandered in

I'm a wanderer, without a doubt
The man behind me is impatient
He's one of the silent ones
Unsmiling in his dress shirt
I wish I were a real person like him
Who knew to say short instead of small
And didn't sit alone at tables
Writing phrases no one cares to read.
Sethnicity Oct 2020
One American right
One American wrong

One American fight
One American song

One American white
One Ameri  Con

If one Nation under God
Indivisible
Y
Yahweh or the highway
Huhhh


If equality won
Y
E pluribus sub human

What's good for the whole
What good for the union

What's freedom for each one
Without justice for Trayvon

Words with much thought
Wisely wrote but forgot

All men could be free together
But only together could man be free

Earth moon sun are three
But only all together do they become
Heavenly bodies

Sea to shining sea
En gulf to frozen mystery
What are we if we
Castrate parts of our history
While we curate the ugly past with watered down memory

The spiral mounds of the midWest the man-made lakes
And Delta dunes
Mud bugs tumbleweeds Allycats street rats
Rags and ruins
Like white and yellow lines we've all been through em

Don't lose your heart we're too close to the start
Of something beautiful
You see these potholes become waterfalls
World wars become
Redemption songs and until we
Truly see each other keep asking
Why can't we all just get along?

But let's keep asking it
The answer will be echoed
The truth will reverberate
Soon we will find that love rings louder than hate

Soon we'll find mute much better on most channels 1- 8
Any channels profiting to opine you only what denigrates
AM rifts while FM skates in 50 of our 55 states
We assume two makes 4 but we play with fire
And keeping score in a game that's no game
Death is the only thing that comes from war

What makes you great can make you weak
If you can't look back and reckon with what was trampled under feet
What makes you great can make you weak
When simplicity is chosen over detail reality ( tweek)
What makes you great can make you weak
When macho men can't be questioned while in seat
What makes you think is what should make you retweet

Example
The statement they tried to make
No discrimination everyone has an equal stake
But not a single number does this statement equate
When 0 out of any American lobby more than a corporate

Sample
The right to bear with the right to speak
But they can no knock and release the heat
But not one bank in jail when you have no food to eat
No peace and Justice in the street
When the leadership can't apologize or reverse the rally speech
You want kids to participate
but you only talk to them about what you hate
No words to which they relate
Next thing they know you ban the apps they populate
Now who they gonna tolerate?
You disenfranchise before you meditate
vilify right before their eyes left
To roll a rainbow of how both sides are deaf
This is still in progress.. much like our country.
Ryan O'Leary Jan 2020
First thing that has come
into your head is "Coke",
well, it just goes to show
how subliminally prone
your minds have become.

Ameri(cans) is actually
a metaphor, but not to
do with aluminium tin's
for holding liquid sugar
consumed by air heads.

What had been assumed
for over a century, now,
was, their ability to do as
they wished, to whom
whenever from whence.

Vietnam was their stark
reminder of cannot's, next
came Afghanistan, then it
Kim Jung Un and now at
last comes Iran, who can!

          Allah Akbar.
Neville Johnson Dec 2021
Benedict Canyon lived with Beverly Hills and stepson, Van Nuys. P. Nut was golfing with Beau Peep, and suggested that Van join them. He declined as ***** Nilly had another foursome with Ali Mony and Mary Land.
        General E. Speaking was at the club, holding forth in his stentorian tones being raptly observed by Al Dente, I. Stan Bul, and if you can believe it, Pia Nissimo.
Moving through the room in search of her next sugar daddy, we encounter Miss I. Sippi, clinging closely to Di Namics on the same prowl. They homed in on Junior Mint, sitting with Al Hambra, Scott Free and Terri Yaki. Val Halla and Buzz Saw introduced themselves to the group, when suddenly Grant Deed fell to the floor, inebriated, stopping the conversation. Marv E. Lous, Mel Ifluous, and Murray Hill carried him, snoring to an easy chair and laid him down.
Cut to Hazel Nuts who was aghast, and turned to Leo ****, making the comment that Buck Wild and Claude Hoppers must have gotten him drunk. Slim Chance begged to differ, asserting it was Gus To, trying to get back at Vin Dictive, who had burned him in a property deal with Grant Deed.
        Ben E. Ficial was amused by **** U. Lar, notwithstanding the looks of Luke Warm and Bea Wildered, who were fearful Buck Wild was going to start a fight with Steve Dore.
        Earnest Money ventured over to Tony Neighborhood, but was shocked at Ana Rexa’s appearance, so he notified Conrad Alert, but Minnie Mise tired to quiet his alert, saying that Tab Oo, who seemed to have the run of the place, demanded the same. Observing this, Martin I said “I need a drink” and corralled Tim Buktu into buying him one.
Tess Osterone was surprising laid-back, maybe that was because his pal, Sandy Beaches, put her at ease. Minnie Appolis, just back from Minnesota, got into an intense discussion with Ruth Less and Mort Ality. I don’t think they like each other.
        Kitty Hawk flew into a rage at smelly Pete Moss, locked into deep conversation with Al Falfa. They both needed a shave and a wash.
Miss Anne Thrope was her usual depressing self, but thank God, she found Ty Lenol to lift her spirits somewhat. Millie Meter went the extra mile for Minnie Van, who struggled to figure out what Al Botross was up to with Tom Foolery.
       What to do with Dewey Decimal, boring everyone who all had his number? So Al Buquerque took charge and invited Hugh Tensils, Ben A Drill and Manuel Shifting to bring him out of his shell.
       Hazel Nuts, surprisingly matched well with Terry Aki, and Mac Rame Teased Mac Arena with a little dance. Ray Ban was a shade introspective and diffident, but had to engage when Polly Ester chatted him up. Take a look at Maxwell House, coffee in hand, who congratulated Gene Splice on his recent editing award. Dorit Os munched on the hors d'oeuvres with Cal Ameri.
       Teddy Bear was his cuddly self, and had a good laugh at Tom Foolery’s antics. It has been ages since Ron de Vouz heard the mellifluous sound of Hugh Kelele’s voice and they immediately embraced.
        What a quartet --- Ma Larkey, Rich People, Oz Mosis, and Ray Vaughn, all who stayed late, always the life of the party.
Perry Patetic moved around the room as though his pants were on fire. Everyone felt sorry for Des Titute: who wouldn’t?
There was Rose Bushes, in the midst of a thorny divorce, to which
Geri Atric could relate, as she had been through the same with Gus T. Winds, who had been represented by the mean lawyer, Ty Rade, who also happened to be present with his chief investigator, Al Ibi.
       Van Couver would not stop extolling the virtues of his native country, so Marshall Amps turned it up to 11 and drowned him out. Finally, Will Power stepped in to tone it down, as Eva Dently was going to leave otherwise.
        Billy Clubs and Lance Corporal stood around menacingly, but it was just for show. Meg A. Phone hit on Jackson Hole. I couldn’t tell if she was getting anywhere. The last to leave were Tex Mex and Dawn Trodden, who had nowhere to go. Cliff Hanger sighed and said he’d be back next year.
"Prostitution," Daddy said, "is a 2-way street with
side walks, turn lanes, traffic lights & high curbs."
   "Yes," I had to agree, "all what's left of the Ameri-
can Civil War are beautiful photographs."

— The End —