The revolution will not take place in McDonald’s
Born out of lethargic, flaky or fickle bodies

Words and actions, powerful ammunitions
But vessels, our bodies, control those manifestations
An armament, the body
Matter without which revolution cannot happen

Us who struggle, while we waste away
Those invested in maintaining power and privilege
Don’t only safeguard their money
They protect their bodies too
And only that of the offspring
Invested in perpetuating power and privilege

They not only monopolize learning and leadership
As mechanisms of dominance and control
They run and eat to fuel that constant fight

Man, wealthy or poor
May give into the vise of fast food and intoxication
But those invested in control
Conscious of power and privilege are no fools
Fortified not only by lawyers and henchmen
But by doctors, fitness trainers, fresh harvests
Having the choice and access to fresh produce

Us colored children from the hoods, the barrios
Our moms, or dads, or single parents
Working month to month
Frustrated because we don't eat fruit and vegetables
Instead eating frozen, canned, chemically enhanced
Microwaveable dinners and junk foods

Skinny, chubby, or obese
Eating our twinkies, doritos, and coke
Can’t even run a block without running out of breath
Diabetes, heart disease, cholesterol, asthma, obesity
Not even looming in the back of our minds

We need youth to represent our communities
We need youth to fight for our communities
We need youth whose minds and stomachs are filled
Not with fodder and capitalist waste
But with food, ideas that fill them, fuel them
Not out of a temporary desire for satisfaction
Rather a prolonged political exercise to fortify themselves
As agents of a transformative process in the world

Frozen, canned, chemically enhanced lunches at school
Soda fountains, fried food, fast food, junk food
May always be subsidized, marketed, made affordable
To be part of your breakfast, lunch and or dinner

Still never reject an apple, orange or pear
Those with power and privilege
May not even have to think about
Their regimented diets
With endless fruits available to them

But for us, a single fruit made available to us
Has to be a daily reminder
An act of defiance
To chose to strengthen our bodies with it

A slippage of those invested in our chains
When the owners of industry
Have socialized us to think
Coca cola, pizza, and burgers
Are parts of our cultural identity
A modern industrialized upgrade
Our diet decisions driven by capitalist consumerism

There may be no specialized fitness trainers
Expensive equipment
Lush parks, jogging tracks, bicycle lanes, or bicycles
In our neighborhoods
But there is a space right next to your bed
Or a piece of floor where you live
And you have your body
Just do a few jumping jacks, push ups, sit ups

You need to have the patience and love
To protect and fortify not only your mind
But your body
To know that the more you fortify yourself
The more you are going to be able to fight exploitation
The more you are going to protect and fight
The ones you love, and even the ones
You won’t even realize you have saved as a result

We may not always have the access to healthy food
But we have the choice to request it collectively
In educational spaces and to take the initiative to exercise

hatasha hullah - dey
parablah nuh parrah
vey, okay, huttah, ulay
narralah, narrah, nutay

That interim between dreams and consciousness, that momentary lapse of reality
When slave children don't howl and the wild animals lay tamed in sun traps, weary

Your scattered thoughts betray reality
and you
question everything - now waking
Smiling chief, chirping loud
Your body gathered and prepared
under torchlight in dusty tents
Ingesting iboga and that old familiar numbness overpowers
You've been here for a life now, looking back on your life now
hatasha hullah - dey
vey, okay, huttah, ulay

Witch doctor, tribal medicine, fanning smoke from a wild fire
flashing imagery akin to memories of when life was decadent
you remember the taste of stray rain drops on your upper lip on muggy British summer days
and waking on a beach, bloodied as the sand at your feet is the next recollection, how powerful
the act of reflection, as you recall the mirrors of the sea and your torn body weakened and inept
The gathered village chant in unison and splinter groups fall off beat only to rejoin intermittently

Remember the Burmese boy far from home on the Gabon shoreline
and he informs you of your own death,
and asks you why do you breathe still?

hatasha hullah - dey
parablah nuh parrah
vey, okay, huttah, ulay
narralah, narrah, nutay
Oh laa, ley ley lahh ley lah
ley hatasha hullah - dey

On some beaten path lost in Angola you carried two packs, food for the world
but you fell starving and spluttered on the rock that looked like your home
Rebels run wild in jeeps black as night, your supplies strewn on rubble grounds
- hatasha hullah - dey
Taken in a flurry, twittering birds in far off trees betray your trust and fly away
in the opposite direction, and the juggernaut jeep catches air over uneven tracks
You were scared and crying under blindfolded eyes and captors jeered, captivated
- parablah nuh parrah
An orchestrated mass of military garbed children with rifles gather you abruptly
when the car stopped with a rumble
And tied to rusted rigs you're gagged and stripped, bloodied your face now
as they beat you and laugh
- vey, okay, huttah, ulay
Congolese giant man, sword in hand and grimacing through bared teeth
Making bold gestures and speaking some inscrutable language
You cannot answer and fear is now in control, you shiver in the ghastly draft
On failure to answer you must be beaten, your back is lashed, repeatedly
- narralah, narrah, nutay
You remain silent but cry in disparity, after shrieks of horror finally escape your barren lips
Through stinging eyes you assess the surroundings after hours of torture when they retire
to their leather beds of shame and innocence faltered, try and remember how to live
- Oh laa, ley ley lahh ley lah
Months must have passed, survive off insects and morning dew on the muddy floor
This African wasteland, time forgotten, child soldiers and lack of humanity is trivial
Always scheming, recollect the armament and through door-way shack trapped light
you see a clear path, and it is good
- ley hatasha hullah - dey
The pinnacle nightfall anticipated arrives, and your skinny wrists released now easily
(their faltering lack of knowledge and abundant braggadocio betray them)
AK laying in moonlight illumination, a sign of God perhaps, but experience proves otherwise
(How cruel the dreams you had of such a gift)
When they spot you leaving, the night lights up, wild crackle of gunfire, heart beats, tribal drums
(To massacre children, such proficiency, the dreams were mindful)
No lapse in concentration, you may ruminate on objective morality in due time
(Crawling through blood and bodies of children, so pure, cadavers tell lies)
The clearing ahead in giant trees, you run and don't look back, praying for no pursuit
(Another genocide committed by a white man, justified perhaps this once)
Weeks pass and you falter only to slurp rain water from Congolese sipping cups the leaves
(Blacking out somewhere in the Republic, or on a border or who cares, as you died long ago)
- vey, okay, huttah, ulay
  ley hatasha hullah - dey

To awake from hallucinogen dreams, and cruel memories linger, it's painful you agree
Witch doctor still sings, lonesome now as the tribe apply ointments and silently pray
The fire still dances to some incredible song and your scars redacted, physical and other
How incredible the mind feeling fuzzy and that insane dream is just that - a dream
You black out again, a common occurrence but upon waking you're free, no tribe exists
With a sheepskin rucksack full of cassava, plantains and sugarcane and cocoa beans
Months pass and you make it to the North, when you leave Africa your body is new
and your mind is stable, no lingering cognizance or frightful thoughts of a forgotten ordeal

You arrive in Turkey, to partake in ***** with nimble girls
and I see you floundering on silken sheets,
My memories were fresh as the nymph on your lap
I write to you a note, and you turn alabaster, moon faced being
I was there always and saw every moment
Your ideals on morality are hazy at best, and to your behest I detest all that you stand for
Is your afterlife so pure, now that bodies litter the forest floor
and do you believe that I am not (a) God
and is this mere poetry, or an indictment of your folly and a warning to all whom engage
but do you not also see that every reaction was an action taken to your original action
and when all is said and done, do you no realise that from the day you were born
you were born a God and that God was born dead
and this is just that interim between expiration and consciousness, that momentary lapse of reality
when slave children don't howl and the wild animals lay tamed in sun traps, weary

hatasha hullah - dey
parablah nuh parrah
vey, okay, huttah, ulay
narralah, narrah, nutay
hatasha hullah - dey
parablah nuh parrah
vey, okay, huttah, ulay
narralah, narrah, nutay
hatasha hullah - dey
parablah nuh parrah
vey, okay, huttah, ulay
narralah, narrah, nutay
Oh laa, ley ley lahh ley lah
ley hatasha hullah - dey

The night was passing, and the Grecian host
By no means sought to issue forth unseen.
But when indeed the day with her white steeds
Held all the earth, resplendent to behold,
First from the Greeks the loud-resounding din
Of song triumphant came; and shrill at once
Echo responded from the island rock.
Then upon all barbarians terror fell,
Thus disappointed; for not as for flight
The Hellenes sang the holy pæan then,
But setting forth to battle valiantly.
The bugle with its note inflamed them all;
And straightway with the dip of plashing oars
They smote the deep sea water at command,
And quickly all were plainly to be seen.
Their right wing first in orderly array
Led on, and second all the armament
Followed them forth; and meanwhile there was heard
A mighty shout: "Come, O ye sons of Greeks,
Make free your country, make your children free,
Your wives, and fanes of your ancestral gods,
And your sires' tombs! For all we now contend!"
And from our side the rush of Persian speech
Replied. No longer might the crisis wait.
At once ship smote on ship with brazen beak;
A vessel of the Greeks began the attack,
Crushing the stem of a Phoenician ship.
Each on a different vessel turned its prow.
At first the current of the Persian host
Withstood; but when within the strait the throng
Of ships was gathered, and they could not aid
Each other, but by their own brazen bows
Were struck, they shattered all our naval host.
The Grecian vessels not unskillfully
Were smiting round about; the hulls of ships
Were overset; the sea was hid from sight,
Covered with wreckage and the death of men;
The reefs and headlands were with corpses filled,
And in disordered flight each ship was rowed,
As many as were of the Persian host.
But they, like tunnies or some shoal of fish,
With broken oars and fragments of the wrecks
Struck us and clove us; and at once a cry
Of lamentation filled the briny sea,
Till the black darkness' eye did rescue us.
The number of our griefs, not though ten days
I talked together, could I fully tell;
But this know well, that never in one day
Perished so great a multitude of men.

Impeccable how the World moves at tremendous speed. The speed of how fast light can travel thru the erigna of the human eye. Mesmerized and contemplating to move forward submerged in endless possibilities of existance of its self refined to your taste character ****** and ****** attributes the human body has let alone a female human persona. For example I see a demonic world inside the rotten but beautifully corrupted shell the body the flesh the muscleskeletal system the neurapathic system the capabilities that person has what's its name and what type of things it has to do with being an alive force propelling not only capability to be kind or aggressive but yet passive and peaceful, but not only that the ANIMA a persona hidden within each human specimen I have come across peoples of all walks of Life's. Some characters as we Narraradors Of Doom predict the ANIMA of the Anti-Christ lives enshelled in a Human body is able to have capacities of a God-Like being yet deep within the destructive force that corrupts them is a Persona who will make you Shriek and Shriver in horror. The ANIMA is a shrift in parallelism complexes maximus which is a stellar system in the Whole Multi-Cosmos we live in. Constructed by a DeusMaxCyberAlienTechnology or what GOD in human society is known as nameless names and many names such as The Almighty God Immanuel, Jehovah, Allah, Creator, Maker of The Immortal Light Being The One Most Powerful One...Omnipotent, Omnipresent, One & Everything at Once where a HyperbolicChamber was constructed to Disquise it as a HorribleMonster in Governmental Sciences & Modern 21rst Century technologies cannot comprehend about this being is that he came from the Celestial Place In Heaven Called the MajesticAstralPlane where Kai's Come to Earth to put to shame the political/economical/social/cultural/bondaries is suppose to end all here. This is to oppressed people of the World... I am a person a lone human seeking the one understandable explanatory reason of why do we sometimes get mad at each other to the point of Killing one Another. Now many reasons coexist in a platora of time and continuous continum of time never stopping the flow of endless thoughts that can come to a person's head when you can contemplate of what the endless galaxies universes and existances come to an end. What you figure is a galaxic or perhaps an AstroProjection like feeling your body acquires in deep REM sleep and you seem to have like died but not yet dead. Your body possesses the ability to transgress from dimension to an ultimate-dimension where the soul of the human ANIMA can go to the 9th Plane Of Existance where the Kai's the World Protectors Of Each Planet that fits requirement of intelligence and intelligent beings being trapped in a Nexus Realm of existance what you may perceive as real is not real to me and I see bigger and better possibility of where you can do in a maacro-organism where species of all places characters and people can coo-exist in a human like society where people in itself live for 80-130 yes old in some societies.

The Fallen Angelic Armada That fell into planet Earth are beings able to blend into a macro-organic societicital standpoint and tell you the psyoananomy of any human specimen you put into an operating table. Not only that I know special points of weakness and interest in your Persona and ANIMA what hue what color of Aura befell upon thy head legions of spiritual locusts are slowly sweeping the planet with UltraSecretAgenda something so hideous so terrible a piece of information lost in time a hidden scroll I have been trying to acquire from a certain individual a person and an idea intellectual illicit and fancy something like a cyber/pathological/dd/svx13<>silent.virusx13 a code hacktivists groups Illuminati the alien races coo-existing with humans the hyper-dimension super/alter/personality personas where I a KingOfIllusion KingOfPerdition KingOfGrandFantasy exist this realm of reality in a parralium of existances all 8 of them colliding with each other where in one reality you could be a fly huge in size about the size of a normal human 175 pounds 6'0 ft IQ of a 113. In another dimension a human being in another a tiger with two tiger heads and hermaphrodite *** organs male and female alike. Yet in another dimension a elephant with 3 tails a bull with 3 eyes and 3 tails in another yet another a spider with 12 legs and another dimension a butterfly with 4 wings huge weighing in 100 to 120 pounds max able to fly highly intelligent creature of many colors textures and sizes. Another dimension a Seraphim with 4 Angellic Wings and a spiritual sword made of Ethereal Flames their colors Amber Red with Blue hues to it. The other the final dimension a Kishin a DemonLord who befell to planet Zarus to conquer its society and people with manipulation techniques so impeccable he was long dead before anyone found out he was the one causing Governments to fall and Wars to be wedged among people and its living habitats. THE DEMONIC AGENDAS are in place to create a New World Order where the key 13 players run the World in the Milky Way a small young Planet known as Earth the 3rd World away from the Sun it has a Collective ANIMA where people are being prompted for the slaughter the III World War is coming soon everything is going according to the plan enlined with the NWO and the Luciferian Movements going around the World today pushing the Gay Pride, Transexual/Transgender/Bisexuals/Heterosexual Agenda slowly transforming the young minds of children thru the Educational Systems Placed On Earth Centuries Ago. Slowly defecating and inventing a new armament of evil inventions to take over Planet Earth. The point to all this Madness is to crash World Markets and Invent False Sense Of Peace when the World is truly in turmoil. The Black Pope Argurus Galaxus is slowly formulating the perfect formula to take over this **** and all this little puppets in the Government working in those Magical/Demonic/Astral/Ethereal Planes and making information available to the masses. Thru the Internet or (World Wide Web) many people still seek fame, fortune, fortune telling, future seeking,******* and marrige. People are lost to the lies and ideals to a False Sense Of Grandiosity and Higher Power problem is that the Higher Power you seek is within YOU don't ever underestimate the power of a Human/DemonKing/Born of Light & Darkness both at the same time a GOD in many senses and a DEMON GOD attributes all at the same time...I am a Warmonger, Witch Doctor, Voodoist, Shaman, Connected to Alter and Hyper realities YOU DO NOT SEE
But yet I see them perfectly and is an Spiritual Warfare every day where Angels fight Demons and the Dead become Angel's and some become Demons some become Vampires, some Zombies some become Bat like Humanoids some other become Sorcerers others Witches and yet others come from a lianage of Nephelims and some come from the Lianage of Arch-Angels like Michael and Gabriel. Some are illumaned with prophecy some are illuminating the entity of Secret Luciferian Movement Societies that make sure everything goes according to plan.

After the 2nd Angellic War in Heaven the Arch-Angel from the Southside Of Heaven Azaziel had *** with a Succubus Queen named Aema FireBrand he was cast to the Lake Of Fire and Brimstone or Hell as humans call it hence he performed a dark ritual to allow Aema to come to the 3rd Dimension on the Milky Way Planet Earth (the 3rd Planet of our Solar System) and Possess a young Womans body and cast half of her being inside her body as a Generational Curse her name is Marlene Ruiz from the Land Of Mountains and Volcanoes Nicaragua.  Back in the summer of 1988 in Jinotega Nicaragua in the Neighboorhood 19 de Julio by Max Senqui Colegio para Niños (Max Senqui College for Kids where I went as a young boy to get knowledge about the basic Mathematics, English, Spanish and all other study of sciences of knowledge) my Mother got together with a man well above her years and had ******* with him and got impregnated by him and had me...my Father was possessed by Azaziel's Angel the Night they created me.

The Illuminati's the EYE OF THE DEVIL or if you see the symbolic symbology they have uncovered their true purpose thanks to the Necromancers Of the East and the Hacktivist Group ANONYMOUS are attacking Pentagon and the White House for their Evil Demonic Secrets. The Blue Code ~☆☆☆☆☆☆~ The 6 Dark Star Agenda where the Earth is seeking a new agenda to cover itself with World Peace Going Green & Creating New Ideologies and New Ways To **** All Human Beings playing with Fire I am here to tell you the truth about the Spiritual World Astral World Dream World and what is happening World Wide Today.  In the Deep Web there are files and video surveillance footage showing the Alien Technologies and Ancient Mysteries Being Uncovered by regular people guys wake UP and smell the coffee see there is a HUGE picture to all this I see the HUGE picture crystal clear ... the point is to keep you calm chill cool and collected but slowly implement their corrupted agendas like viruses to our Human Society. I am saying all this because for the idiots that don't believe that the World is NOT CONTROLLED BY LUCIFER is a fool in its truest form. Lucifer the Demon-King from the 9th Circle Of Hell is a Light Bearing Angel able to talk to God and also to humans at the same time it's TRUE intentions are not purely evil as everyone thinks he is actually fighting for this False Sense Of World Peace we ALL are seeking in Society TODAY. The Plan of the Illuminati is to enlighten and illuminate the Darkened History Of The Earth itself there is actually 33 books missing in the Bible. The Holy (yet corrupted and tainted Bible you PEOPLE READ) the Quo-ran the Book Sage of Ages and the Mallus Maleficarum are books of interest to many people that want to get informed about what does it all mean ...the 72 Keys Of Solomon and the Pagan Books recipes to Love Incantations & Enchantments and other things such as Alchemy and Dark Sorcery. Witches and Sorcerers ailments and Generational Curses that instead what they where originally placed in those certain peoples as Curse Mark's became their Highest Blessings a Holy Kiss from the Maker Of Souls. So in other Words I am saying is am a manufactoration of a Arch-Angel & a Queen Of Devils and don't need a GUN to assassinate you all I have to do is speak something into existence and it's good as DONE
So I can say this when I say your cursed you are INDEED cursed and when I say you BLESSED you are BLESSED indeed for I talk to GOD Arch-Angels and Seraphyms And Guardian Angels... yet I know how to summon Demonic Forces and Plagues Of Minion Armadas Spiritual Armadas that Control so much $$$ Gold & Diamonds in other Galaxies. I am a Black Diamond a KING a Pharaoh a GOD on Earth and in Heaven for if you truly believe you don't need a Savior you are built to SAVE YOURSELF. I control legions of a 1000 Angel's and a 1000 Demons at the same time a power so complex so profound and amazing I cannot yet truly comprehend it all at once. I been speaking to this 2000 entities living within my body ever since I was 6 years old when my Arch-Angel Father Azaziel and Mother Aema showed themselves to me... and told me what I must do with such power from that day on everything changed is as if I had unlocked the keys to the Multi-Verse which in a sense is true. However with Great Power comes Great Responsibility. I remember faces for a life time but forget easily directions and female vibes are too complex for me to sometimes grasp. Anyway everyone has the potential to unlock invisible force and chakras points of ethereal energy in power that manifest themselves from Light to Dark hues. How I can read AURAS and AURORAS and the SKY, EARTH, ROCKS, WOOD, ANIMALS, INSECTS, POINTS OF PERCEPTION, ENERGY LVS and DESTINY TRAILS & INTERPRET DREAMS FORM OR DISINTEGRATE DRAMA & FUSE ILLUSION WITH REALITY SO EASILY & ITS FLOW REMAINS CONSTANT NON STOPPED AND SO SUBTLE THAT IS PRACTICALLY IMPOSSIBLE TO NOTICE WHAT I MAY BE PONDERING ON INSIDE MY MIND AND INTELLECT OR ANIMA My ANIMA Is highly difficult and impossible to comprehend fully for I cannot be created or destroyed I am similar to time, space, water, fire, air, real & fake all at the same time. I am here I am everywhere I want to be I create I destroy I have the power to give Life yet take it away if I choose to. Nevertheless, the truth we must all poets must work together to put an end to this tyrannical evil demonic & what seems like an indestructible Governmental Outer/Inter Infrastructure and bring more people all the "What if this...what if that's and endless arrays of possible words and mumbo jumbo you can conglomerate together to sound good ....am NOT HERE TO SOUND GOOD Am here to  tell you the One you know As GOD is here on Earth and his identity is secret for now but soon you will all be bowing DOWN to the NEW KING OF JERUSALEM. I'll talk more about all this...time for bed...Good Night Inspiring Young & Old Alike Man or Female Poets reading this MAY GOD Save you in the day of reckoning. Thank You Lord for saving a wretched fool like me. I am a prisoner in Christ that is certain. God bless Humanity.


To Be Continued...        

Franko The Christian Poet
Copy-written 2019 All Rights Reserved.

Powering whisker's tense, the unfurled orange;
teethed with nature's rosy armament.

Brother Tiger sniffs. burning nose
  whispers of passion
  with breaths of love.

More than two million years under human life
And she knows more than you, a white milliner
roses bloom
rose is a dove.

Brother Tiger gazes off into the East
Rose smiling, rose laughing,
Roses are searching for proud preys

Heaving breaths
dynamic, catlike stealth.

    Heartbeat’s thunder
****** shadows hide.

She sends him a fairy-white rosebud: 
“Hey Love, let’s off to search again for spring…"
"come home safe, Brother Tiger: Don't be feared"

Chant and roar along please
A kiss of desire on the lips.

no matter when I go to sleep

no matter when I go to sleep,
my next door neighbors
wake me up,
arguing.

History and the Future,
the oddest couple,
always in opposition,
in a world of mutual armament.  

these unilateral siamese twins,
every dialectic ends the same:

one says I'll **** you,
then, they both start laughing.

(Eléa's #1 fav)

9/15/17 4:35am

<•>

mark me as safe

though the namelessly hurricane is never ending,
the roof, a sacrifice in the wind's temple,
letting millions of naked eyes be persecution witnesses,
marking me as safe, but not saved,
surviving, the destruction, a beautiful curse,
this violent universe.

9/15/17
4:30am
(gifted to Joel & Kelly Rose))

<•>

address me with no assumptions

for we will provide the facts,
with liberty and justice,
we will fill in the redacted parts
in the bill of particulars,
of the indictments signed namelessly,
only as the
The State's Attorney,
woo hoo,
We Who Always Win,
Cause We Make the Rules

9/8/17 9:31am

<•>

21801BB705 VDAB7

given this, the key,
the rulers announced thanks,
but not in anyway a necessite,
we will just smash the locks
and burn your personal history down,
until now it has JUST been whiteout corrected,
you're welcome!

9/14/17
6:37am
(gifted to Evan Crow)

<•>

don't major in the minors

don't major in the minors,
classicism is a double entendre,
you don't understand,
but you will,
when you study headless statues
in a museum
come back to life,
do not act surprised.

progress is not an iPhone,
it's taking a long bathroom break
in the mind.

(Graces's fav)

9/10/17. 5:37am

<•>

All the old battles are new again

All the old battles are new again.
every old poem is but a pretense, a new work refreshed.
cutting edges dull knives, easily resharpened by new use,
fresh excuses.
stale words that stick humans, come to life,
as any and all of your favo-rite
army of **(fill in the blank)
  _ism's,
marching in the name of good riddance
of the  disloyal opposition.

nothing new under the sun,
history books predict the future.

(Eléa's #2 fav)

9/15/17 3:55am

Days like today bring me to reminisce,
of the life we shared, now an abyss.

Recent life has been testing,
this lonely Mother’s Day solidifies your resting.
Today it feels more like you were never here,
what type of life is it that I’m now investing?

Posed with the question of happiness.
what is this meaning without you?
living today admonishes the truth,
only former memories allow me your bliss.

Mixed feelings of love and hatred,
circumvent in this current conquest.
As I contemplate reaching out I'm reminded,
that your remains are all that is left.

Be at peace with the truth,
is the message you conveyed well.
I question God about this new reality,
a life filled with constant duality.

Your loss is permanent,
& recognizing this is pertinent.
This daily battle without you,
I cope because your gift of a DNA armament.

“Time brings perspective”,
were the words that escaped from your soul.
You are still my everything,
and today I escape into your memory.

You can sing it to the tune
Of I Shot The Devil,
But I totally did it
Strictly on the level.
No, I didn’t know it when,
For another night of ***,
He asked me to his den
Under the spell of some hex.

It was like he was to me
The hottest guy ever seen.
He was built like a star
His hair had a fine sheen.
Body and face were fine;
Toned and masculine.
I’d never seen him before
Though I had often been.

He used his elocution
And handy circumlocution
Better than a Rosicrucian
Sentenced to an institution.
He could twist the moment
Out of a frenzied foment
Then to a crazy torment
With muted arcane comments.

We met in a bath house
On Melrose, West L.A.
And somehow that night
Things seemed to go my way.
He gave me the eye
And I returned it in full.
I am fairly certain that
We both felt the pull.

It was all about debauchery
And he was calling the shots
Making me see I got stupid
Whenever I got that hot.
I let my **** do the thinking
And he seemed glad to show
That I would flirt with danger
And then, not even know.

He used his elocution
And handy circumlocution
Better than a Rosicrucian
Sentenced to an institution.
He could twist the moment
Out of a frenzied foment
Then to a crazy torment
With muted arcane comments.

So, I went back for seconds
At Hedda Hopper’s apartment
Across from Mae West’s place
Fueled with no armament
To protect me from what
Would turn out to be, for me
The scariest ****** encounter
In my busy, young history.

We were doing the deed again
But this time things had changed.
His appearance began to alter
Into something scary and strange.
His canine teeth grew longer
And his body turned fiery red.
I quickly dressed and left that place
And stumbled back home to my bed.

He used his elocution
And handy circumlocution
Better than a Rosicrucian
Sentenced to an institution.
He could twist the moment
Out of a frenzied foment
Then to a crazy torment
With muted arcane comments.

The papers are wet with ink.
Russia is losing it's war.
North Korea is swamped with the Covid.
Tucker is backpedaling his replacement theory.
Finland and Sweden are enrolling.
Armament shipments are making a difference.
The Pope is apologizing.
That needs repeating: The Pope is apologizing.
(But why stop with the Aboriginals. Consider the Jews and Irish).
Fossil fuels are on the decline.
(plastic microchips are in our fat)
I can still buy Roundup.
Tobacco is banned in most public places here.
*** is not.
There are more drunks, and more behind bars, and in front.
We have safe injection sites.
I have robots asking me if I'm a robot.
There are more tv stations selections.
TV is not worth watching.
LPs are making a comeback.
Right to Life is Wrong for Many.
... and on... and on

People keep saying
“You should fight for your love “
But it still feels so unnatural to me
Such a disconnected thing to utter
so archaic this notion of fighting
as if I held the key
to universal order

Why would I aspire to such arrogant a feat

You must understand that when I think of love
I am engulfed with joy and warmth
that I cannot fathom war
so stop trying to send me into battle
I do not want to join the Calvary

Instead, I am placing my heavy shield,
weapons
and armament down
among the flora springing into life

‘Tis is a celebration in disguise watching him
walk away faithfully into the thicket,
eyes closed but in the direction of his true inward self

Now, why would I fight that

We fight delicately, sniping, taking and giving verbal punches.
Our skin doesn't bruise, maybe our egos our minds,
but our bodies no.
Our velvet arguing is seamless, flawless.
Anyone listening would hear witty repartee.
A couple playfully bantering, no more.
Polite meritorious armament of words.
Primed to fire a salvo of cruelty.
Cruelty, covered and handled with crushed velvet gloves.
Textured, cultured, arguing.
Polite parrying, pleasant resentment.
A bottle of wine, remnants of a meal, wounds needing to heal.
Less or more cruel than a punch? This seamless linguistic pain.
Bruises fade, pain subsides, mental cruelty resides.

We rocked, we rolled,
strolled through the revelers,
rocket scientists
wearing ripped jeans
& pointed rattlesnakes,
some had rose tats.

Cocksure, we rode
the ferris wheel
above the skyline
of never never land
& right down the street,
there was enough armament
to level all the strip malls
in the Springs.

Funny, they told us
we were the violent ones,
the dangerous kind,
tightly wound psychos
who sung anthems,
those sweet child 'o mine
pop tunes.

So hell yea,
we were tough,
the no-prisoner-types,
trained-to-**** fighters
wearing pearled buttons,
sipping Boone's Farm,
we continued
to spin circles,
spitting into the
cold Colorado wind.

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Hey, Hey, NRA
Who're you going
To **** today?

A little girl at school
Or a little boy at play
Maybe a *******
From India by mistake

Home defense
Is a good excuse
But it's more likely
to be home abuse

Suicides are up
And accidents too
But they're guaranteed
By Amendment Two

We all need protection
From all the terrorists
Because they can buy guns
Even if they're on our lists

And don't forget the Government
We'll need our peashooter Glocks
Against their heavy armament

Hey, Hey, NRA
Who're you going
To **** today?

D etermined To Eradicate His
    Antagonistic Psychosis, The Bane
    Of His Post-Last-War Existence, He
E mbarked On His Campaign, Less A
    Scripted Strategy, Less Armament,
    and Less Allies About His Flanks.
S he Not Only Emerged As His
    Struggle's Armistice, The Indefinite
    End To Combat, But Also As The
I mpetus Enlightening The Conflict's
    Necessity, Verified Justification, The
    "Casus Belli."
R elative To One Another,
    Omnipresent Memories Of Her
    Love And Realization Of His Valor
E mpowered Him To Accept Nothing
    Shy of Defeat From His Adversary,
    Traumatic Stress, For His Cause,
    A Forever With Her.

Yes, I think I did it
Didn’t I do it
I mean, you saw me do it
Yes, you did
You saw me do
What I’ve never been able to do
Which was to say
Love you
Love me
It was nothing
Nothing at all
Nothing to do
Was it even true

I stare into space
Implacable clockface
Worn-out bookcase
All the knowing I stuffed
Shelved, just in case
Ornamental armament
Bounded & staged
Dialectical argument

I did nothing
Who did nothing
You did
No, I didn’t
Who are you talking to
Who’s asking
Don’t answer a question with a question
Don’t tell me what to do
Relax we’re only talking
Don’t patronize
Don’t criticize  
Well that’s what I mean
Was I doing Nothing,  
Or Something?
What did I do?

I mean
Was it Nothing
Or
Was it Something
Tell me
Was Nothing Something
or
Was Something the Nothing I did
or
Nothing the Something I did
I’m an Escher painting
One hand painting the other
Thing is
I don’t know
But that is the very thing I know

Talking to a friend today
She says
I got to go
My daughters calling me
Thing is
She doesn’t have a daughter
Or does she

Thing is
I know
She wanted to talk about her thing
And I wanted to talk about my thing

I know
How this looks to you
But here’s what you need to know
I’ve listened and listened and listened
I’ve been a listening machine
So shut the **** up
I’m not your therapist
This I’ll only do for my daughter
You mean our daughter.
Whatever

But, here’s the real thing
A think thing
You don’t have to say anything  
But’ it’s better if you do  
Because I need you to
But not like this
So maybe it’s better if you don’t
But, that’s not the real thing
Maybe It’s better if you do
Or don’t
Then Don’t
Then Do
Don’t
Do
Don’t
Do
Then Don’t
Then Do
Please Do
I think I’m thru with you!
But wait
I have to think this through
Where have I heard that before
Not from me.

Engine: 2x Daimler Benz 601 A-1
Max Speed: 247 mph at 16,400 feet
Service Ceiling: 26, 250 feet
Range 1,224
Armament: 3-6x 7.9 mm machine guns
Bombload: 4410 lbs

Well armed
But underpowered and slow

Her cougar tooth grin honed in on my
position like a heat seeking missile out
on a mission; it must be the dead of winter.
My butterfly emissions are erupting like 
some deep space transmission. WOW!
I'm tumbleweed dumb, numb fumbling
my words at every single tipsy turn.
She's calm, confident, toting an armament of compliments, executing my passion with the precision of an arsonist.

Roses of consternation cry
as the lambs  are driven.
Is steadfast an exit or a cry for help?
Sometimes being crashed, bottoms out
and strife as a personal  armament;
merely becomes another structure.

I hate it all so much.
This hatred burns and scalds my skin
from the outside in and rips away flesh
like picking rotted flowers from my bones.

My clothes
are no longer here.
They left ashes in their place
a slow wake of fire dust
encircles me
like its digging out a tomb.

I hear the cackling of the
sturdy floorboards beneath
my feet begin to snap.

I hear the laughter breaking free
from the splinters and feel the spike
of their railroad pike skin pierce me
ripping away failing flesh
like train cars
until I am just cooked bone and hate
and spilled muscle.

My blood begins to soak into the oak
of the earth’s soil.
I hear it boil.
It funnels down through dirt like drain-o.
I peer into the hole like an open casket.
I see the soul of the planet so like me.
All cooked bone and boiled blood.
All rotted flower and liquid muscle.
It coalesces into an ocean of metal magma.

It looks like it knows how to hate like me.
The wakes wave like an invitation.
I feel the gravity of my skeletal frame
pull back into an arched bow
and let go.
I fall like an arrow on fire.
My cooked bone crashes into an alloy ocean
and shatters like fine china
I am fire dust in the form of crashed skeleton
and rotten flower.
I fuse into this lake of burning wakes
until the flames of our hate
soak into a bonfire of failed flesh and metal

I am home here
There is no armament of wood and laughter
There is only hate, blood, bone, metal, and rotted flower

It looks like heaven.

Backed by a belief that  butchery
is part of a survival strategy to cling
to the edifices of power blackened by the bomb
and bunker smoke of fighting in the trenches of hate

Hidden in hell holes beneath the barren  browning landscape
scattered across the fragile face of the desert
soldier rats rush into pock-marked craters
as the planes overhead search them out with infrared
points to demolish and bury them
in the graves the enemy nation
carved for cemeteries
unmarked
in the battlefields of bourgeoisie.

War brings  the drones of mercy
raining  from the skies of hate
piercing through the armament of commands
from Generals decorated in medals of honour
from the Boys Club and  green mossed jackets.
Sit, daddy,  in rifle ready barricades
awaiting the crackle  command
from higher up the food chain.

Those who make those decisions are unaware
a child sits at home playing with a little toy soldier
"Made in China" from printed plastic moulds
of mass production and extermination.

"Daddy is my hero.
He will come home for Christmas."

He wont. This time round, son.

Author Notes
The Toy soldier.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.

Beauty hurts
I stretched the dirt
To cut the crust
Split the earth
To reach out to us
And find the past

Infinity sparkles
Beneath the soil
Sweet scent of raisin rolls
Roll me into memory
Beautiful but transient

**** the armament
Touch the firmament
Hit heaven’s eye
Not with weapons
But with dreams of the morrow
And dreams of yesterday
When beauty still looked the same

Soft childhood smile
Permanently plastered
On my mind
Loneliness mastered
But still cracks the plaster sometimes
Chipping the armor
And leaving seedlings
Of regret

Posing in pictures of the past
Beauty breaks my heart
Because beauty never lasts
Spoiled by winter frosts
Sickened and assaulted by winter’s loss
But sometime it comes back
Reincarnated in a flower
Or a butterfly

Sweet Angelica,
An overwhelm of your leafy
ramifications, waxed verdure
affections for a wayward wind.
My eyes caught the emerald glint;
now they glisten green
in a poetic apotheosis.

Should I deem you guilty
that 'twas the devil's walking stick
that sired you,
as virid envelope,
so delicate that every leaflet
would blend to a fine herb repast.

So I brave your prickly defences
in my manner of white tailed deer
and nibble of your leafy poetry.
A half mouthed curse that you sting
but your arbour rose
where none grew and I thought
you bloomed especially for me.

Rhizomes spiralled for life,
and the taste of muddied rain.
Other wanderers tried pillage
those jejune early fronds and
you recoiled in thorny armament,
a conflicted poetry I read on you.

Look at you now ...
largest leaf than any other in a North wind,
towering panicles that draw
a chorus of winged angels, quills.
These be the battlements of love
that will shed for life, in beauty

for when Summer leaves, there'll be Fall,
then the long rest of seasons.

Sun wasn't charming the artistry of horizon
Spirits began dripping down the urn of dejection
The core was baffling should I face it or shun
But ambience flipping, the atrocious ones had spun

Taken aback, fainted of the blazes and winds thrown out
Roars making the foes briefly feel they have lost it as the scout
acknowledged the squad's optimistic encouraging shout
Leaving the base now and climbing the air, glory was without a doubt            

You could be barely seen as you ripped the air apart
The confidence ascertained you'd hit even the covert as a dart
The armament away just a button of your electronic heart
Time to ****, intercept, perform the enthralling aerial art

The bandits neared as your cutting edge intellect beaconed
You were so camouflaged not their conscience awakened
The shot was fired and they got absolutely weakened
Conclusively the villains were done with and the rest frightened

As you came back to your motherland, in your hand was glory
We did you a salute as we too witnessed the whole quarry
The skies now cleared till the farthest making the earth calmed corey
And don't know why
But for me, serening the world will always be your story

All I see are demons
in this apocalyptic season
when everyone with a grievance
pledges allegiance
to those in agreement
of fear of the opposition
deserving paranoid treatment
for a thing called collision.

I live in fear of their numbers
I fear the heights of their hunger
I fear they'll eternalize my slumber
not wanting to go under
I sit there and wonder
how to tear asunder
nightmarish hunters.

This thunderstick granted to me
for my John Wick fantasy
lays in my hands handily
fingers hugging the trigger
ignoring the touch of skin
it makes me feel bigger
than playing the violin.

I need guns because the other side has them
trading players like they're Udonis Haslem
feeling like the metallic version of Aslan
because of the armament in my safe
connecting me to my venom
protecting me from the other's ways
with a second **** in my denim.

I'm afraid of the angry mob
to which I've globbed on
pitchforks in hand
fingers hugging the trigger
of supply and demand
the rich get richer.

Tis, an age of knightly lore,
of greasy and grizzled
wealthy nobles
that seem to signal
some sick cycle
of destruction
that they are
desirous for.

Battle born ballistic,
armament physics
of pain causing missions,
missing all mercy
because of their
Machiavelli
machinations;

Mud slickened and sweaty
armor wearing
super smelly
fellowship of fools,
discourteous tools
who ravage
and pillage
poor peasants.

Inflamed by such infractions
I chafe under the yoke
of violence and oppression,
whilst searching other actions
for the slightest scent or sight of
of human decency,

but hope is less then
a liminal sensation,
and there seems to be
no cessation of
humanity’s violent tendencies

He comes in without a word
undresses and points at me
from his golden locks of hair

with the power of his lordship
the natural armament of men
overbearing and selfish

but an overwhelming pleasure
when it enters me, rhythmically
taking me into ecstasies

making me drift
beyond any awareness
of ****** limits

Afterward, again
the wonder of the birdie
growing

with the slightest touch
of my lips, my tongue
and his desire