"amerikan" poems - Hello Poetry

All these whinging intellectual poetic wankers, scribbling Conditional Love "poems"that boringly lament why they are such obvious failures at the game of life and self realisation. Spewing out weasel words of poetic hypocracy while wrapped in navel gazing infantile emotions. Writing degenerate untruthful words about a love they'll never know or never have known, as if unconditional love can be bought at the local Walmart. Voluntarily assisting the machinations of mind and groupmind, since their birth into a lifetime of Conditioned Identity, in the servitude of the Amerikan Oligarchy . Strings of meaningless associated words, lines of lies about life and love that are ever popular with "poets". Starting with every one of the so-called "holy" books from millennia past--calling for suicide bombers and child killers to strut the world stage spewing religious racism and sexism like enlightened beings.. After all words have NO SHAME nor have poets.. Sin Verguensa. Words have NO GUILT nor have poets. Words have NO EMBARASSMENT nor have poets. You cannot hide behind your lies from me. I see you--I have nous. Your beard is transparent. Your unceasing lies deny to others information to which they are entitled, "poets" are the worst LIARS of all, so easily spottable . Read these pages--see for yourself, through my eyes . See the silly shit-fed children of the Amerikan Oligarchy, wrapped in spangles and colours --posturing like super-heroes. Vomiting verbal diahorea in lifes gutters, appealing for just one more chance to play at love and humiliation. People with low IQs and lower morals pretending ,as always, to be mature and human, characters moulded like products of talk show hosts . No integrity. No truthfulness. No honour. No decency. No morals except those learned from Readers Digest. No to these escapees from the gallows of decency, torture instruments dangling round their necks, their prophet validated by being nailed and denied.

0

Jul 9, 2014

Jul 9, 2014 at 12:07 PM UTC

mannley-collins

surely enough is enough

All these whinging intellectual poetic wankers, scribbling Conditional Love "poems"that boringly lament why they are such obvious failures at the game of life and self realisation. Spewing out weasel words of poetic hypocracy while wrapped in navel gazing infantile emotions. Writing degenerate untruthful words about a love they'll never know or never have known, as if unconditional love can be bought at the local Walmart. Voluntarily assisting the machinations of mind and groupmind, since their birth into a lifetime of Conditioned Identity, in the servitude of the Amerikan Oligarchy . Strings of meaningless associated words, lines of lies about life and love that are ever popular with "poets". Starting with every one of the so-called "holy" books from millennia past--calling for suicide bombers and child killers to strut the world stage spewing religious racism and sexism like enlightened beings.. After all words have NO SHAME nor have poets.. Sin Verguensa. Words have NO GUILT nor have poets. Words have NO EMBARASSMENT nor have poets. You cannot hide behind your lies from me. I see you--I have nous. Your beard is transparent. Your unceasing lies deny to others information to which they are entitled, "poets" are the worst LIARS of all, so easily spottable . Read these pages--see for yourself, through my eyes . See the silly shit-fed children of the Amerikan Oligarchy, wrapped in spangles and colours --posturing like super-heroes. Vomiting verbal diahorea in lifes gutters, appealing for just one more chance to play at love and humiliation. People with low IQs and lower morals pretending ,as always, to be mature and human, characters moulded like products of talk show hosts . No integrity. No truthfulness. No honour. No decency. No morals except those learned from Readers Digest. No to these escapees from the gallows of decency, torture instruments dangling round their necks, their prophet validated by being nailed and denied.

51

Remember summer in blue, Dressed to the leg in wonder too, Wearing Love as a charm In worn-out body from Hollywood Smeared blood on eyelid, broken morning Room-service waits for door to unlock Get up from bed and answer the door They’re waiting and will wait no more Hurry hurry hurry to the door Jump over the heartaches on the floor Juggle the pins and needles with ease Open the door and see the hall empty They waited and could simply wait no more They’ll be back, surely one knows They need their money, like Amerikan vampires Empire minds, building nonsense and putrid wasted art Selling ideals to the college-bound toddlers Delivering the news of Santa being Satan in a mask And handing over the papers for a non-physical death Certified by the highest suits in the highest cubicles, Signed by God himself, and nailed to the cross Worshiped by the lonely and shunned by the worried The plastic coins in the fountain one day will explode I know this from sheer experience only Trust my word for I never ever lie Only to myself, and even then that’s still the truth.

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Dec 12, 2013

Dec 12, 2013 at 4:31 PM UTC

kristofer-von-coons

Verse 2, from 'Winter Rag Song'

Remember summer in blue, Dressed to the leg in wonder too, Wearing Love as a charm In worn-out body from Hollywood Smeared blood on eyelid, broken morning Room-service waits for door to unlock Get up from bed and answer the door They’re waiting and will wait no more Hurry hurry hurry to the door Jump over the heartaches on the floor Juggle the pins and needles with ease Open the door and see the hall empty They waited and could simply wait no more They’ll be back, surely one knows They need their money, like Amerikan vampires Empire minds, building nonsense and putrid wasted art Selling ideals to the college-bound toddlers Delivering the news of Santa being Satan in a mask And handing over the papers for a non-physical death Certified by the highest suits in the highest cubicles, Signed by God himself, and nailed to the cross Worshiped by the lonely and shunned by the worried The plastic coins in the fountain one day will explode I know this from sheer experience only Trust my word for I never ever lie Only to myself, and even then that’s still the truth.

26

piss-poor and merry bleeding in the hot noon sun moon junkies gripped in another static embrace slumped on the run of an amerikan dream hoping manana to rize again in Freedoms Anarchist Joy

0

Jan 10, 2016

Jan 10, 2016 at 9:04 PM UTC

aaron-conway

Untitled

piss-poor and merry bleeding in the hot noon sun moon junkies gripped in another static embrace slumped on the run of an amerikan dream hoping manana to rize again in Freedoms Anarchist Joy

12