"assassinate" poems
The Story
by Kamal Nasser
translation by Michael R. Burch
I will tell you a story ...
a story that lived in the dreams of my people,
a story that comes from the world of tents.
It is a story inspired by hunger and embellished by dark nights of terror.
It is the story of my country, a handful of refugees.
Every twenty of them have a pound of flour between them
and a few promises of relief ... gifts and parcels.
It is the story of the suffering ones
who stood waiting in line ten years,
in hunger,
in tears and agony,
in hardship and yearning.
It is a story of a people who were misled,
who were thrown into the mazes of the years.
And yet they stood defiant,
disrobed yet united
as they trudged from the light to their tents:
the revolution of return
into the world of darkness.
Kamal Nasser was a much-admired Palestinian poet and Palestinian Christian, who due to his renowned integrity was known as "The Conscience." He was a member of Jordan's parliament in 1956. He was murdered in 1973 by an Israeli death squad whose most notorious member was future Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak. Barak (born Ehud Brog) later ruled as Israel’s tenth Prime Minister from 1999 to 2001. His adopted Hebrew name Barak means "lightning." As a younger man, Brog/Barak was a member of a secret assassination unit that liquidated Palestinians in Lebanon and the occupied territories. In the 1973 covert mission Operation Spring of Youth in Beirut, which was part of the larger Operation Wrath of God, he disguised himself as a woman in order to assassinate Palestinians. The raid resulted in the deaths of two women, one of them an elderly Italian. Two Lebanese policemen were also killed, along with the poet Kamal Nasser.
Nasser was the PLO's most prominent Christian and he enjoyed "great appeal" in Lebanon, Syria, and Iraq "both as a distinguished poet and likeable personality." He was the “conscience of the Palestinian revolution,” according to Nazih Abul-Nidal, who worked with him on the magazine Filastin al-Thawra. Nasser “had the most democratic outlook of all Palestinian leaders at the time,” he recalls. He respected opposing views, admired the commitment of young people, and was a major recruitment asset for the Palestinian revolution. “That is why he was put high on the hit-list.” The previous year, the Israelis had murdered another renowned Palestinian writer and activist in Beirut, Ghassan Kanafani, by booby-trapping his car. Nasser’s successor, Majed Abu Sharar, was also assassinated by Israelis, in Rome in 1981 while attending a conference in solidarity with the Palestinian people.
Keywords/Tags: Kamal Nasser, Palestinian, Palestine, PLO, Conscience, Ramallah, Christian, religion, poet, Arab, Arabic, Arab Spring, betrayal, conflict, courage, devotion
Dec 9, 2021
Dec 9, 2021 at 7:55 AM UTC
Long days seem so much longer.
Distance does not make the heart grow fonder.
You’ve conquered the empire of my subconscious.
Your crusade so short,
Yet I hope your reign continues for eons.
We’re far past passive flatteries,
Instead, we fill each other’s hearts with vows.
You mean them now,
But what about a few months?
What if you decide I’m not what you want?
The torment I am slowly approaching,
Consumes my distant soul.
I can hear the sounds of futuristic loathing,
From when you decide this love has taken it’s toll.
So tell me.
How can I pay this inevitable toll?
How can I save us from Cupid’s malicious tyranny?
His arrow is too far lodged within me,
I cannot remove it.
I can only push it farther and farther
Into my heart until it falls out of my back.
But this arrow, trenchant.
Cupid, the sharpest of marksmen.
Yet colorblind, he is.
He sees not what colors his targets represent.
He draws his bow for the pure love of marksmanship.
Sometimes, yet not often,
He will hit the intended target.
But the odds are scarce.
His subjects are often punctured,
And connected to one whom reciprocated Fate’s desire.
Yet this time…
This time…
Cupid must have hit a target of Fate’s approval.
For thrice he has missed.
This time He and Fate are in sync.
This wound may stretch over time,
But the arrow shall remain firmly lodged within my *****
***** and immovable.
Until you kick it through my backside.
But until then,
I can only endure.
I can only be woo wounded.
I can only survive,
Another ambush of the militant called Cupid.
But I will do it for you,
For by you,
I’ve been so divinely seduced.
Wooed by your lips.
Not by your kiss,
But by the music,
Which your mandibles so express.
I desire not to seal this wound,
But to evade its’ repercussions.
For I have endured a similar wound thrice.
He is winged as if an angel,
Yet Was Lucifer not once an angel as well?
Cupid is an impostor.
A spy of Agony, himself.
He prays on the young, the old, the strong, and the weak.
He cares not who he obliterates in his crusades.
He is a bloodthirsty heathen.
He makes scoundrels of Saints,
And Harlots of Housewives.
Saint Valentine is no Saint.
He is Satan’s nightmare.
At first, his arrows are ecstasy,
But like a cancer,
His poison-saturated arrows
Seep deep within every crevice of your body.
They consume you as if enriched with ******
And eventually rot within your *****
Until it is nothing but dust and a memory.
One day I will assassinate Fate’s Malicious militant,
The one we call Cupid.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 1:25 AM UTC
Some times tremors of foolish wise thoughts,
pass man's mind like waves of earth quakes
across the muscles of unsuspecting earth,
to day one of the type has visited my brain,
i ask myself why John F Kennedy committed suicide,
with all the resources and riches in America of Kennedy's time,
The FBI, CIA, NATO and the shrewd Mozart, the security masters
of the world's vogue all guarding the Kennedy the president,
how came that the public imbecile had claim on his life,
money overflowing like the waters of River Congo,
into insatiable Atlantic basin is the simplest measure
of American riches that Kennedy headed at his time of demise,
full backed with intellect matchless muscle from study of history,
eloquent like the weaver birds of Uganda in the city of Mbale,
sending all packing in the likes of Nehru, Nyerere and Nkrumah,
perhaps subdueable in single phase to the mighty of Castro,
how comes that a madman killed Kennedy in the fullness of the day,
was it the invisible hand of the Ku klux **** Synagogue of Satan or Freemason,
the death of Kennedy is none other than beautiful suicide
or the active curse of fate, misfortune and violent death.
Why Nkrumah died out of power was political suicide,
his knowledge of the world set African pace,
towering mentally above all else in the chronicles of consciesism,
he stood like a tor on the African mountains against Senghor
Why Colonel Afrifa putsched Nkrumah is none else
other that suicidal politics played at helm of power.
why Tom Mboya died is suicide of suicides
to believe that reason can overwhelm ethnic sentiments
in a tribal consciousness of country like Kenya
in time of Kenyatta,
to foolishly conceive that Kikuyu can assassinate a Kikuyu
was Luo foolishness of that particular century,
it is Mboya who bought the gun that shot him dead,
it is Mboya who bankrolled his own assassin
he brought to the world political suicide of the century.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 5:52 AM UTC
I look forward to the re-enactments of historic moments in the pageant of The United States of America. [sic]
Gettysburg, Crossing the Delaware, The Moon Landing, Paul Revere's Ride, The March on Washington, The Storming of the Capital, The Clearing of Lafayette Plaza, The George Floyd ****** The Separation of Families, The Arizona Re-count, The Plot to Assassinate Democratic Governors, The Imprisonment of: Jared, Donny, Eric, Ivanka, Don, Carlson, Greene, Gaetz, Guilianni, Hannity, Conway, McVeigh, Barr [sic] (just to mention a few of the Founding Fuck-Ups.), the death of 650,000 people (the vast majority being innocent), The Pandemic of the Unvaxxed [sic]
After July 4, 2024, History may never be the same. See it now!
Jul 22, 2021
Jul 22, 2021 at 3:39 PM UTC
If I told you about the fifty mile trek I took,
with ice accumulating on my beard,
and shivering to sleep in the tiny hollow,
would you believe me?
What about the time they thought I was a terrorist
trying to assassinate the queen?
Or the time they took everything away from me;
my clothes, my hair, even my name?
Would you read it as fiction?
"That kind of thing doesn't really happen" you might say,
and I no longer care to argue my case anymore.
as you explain to me how, in a modern day society,
these kind of things things really work.
I wonder whether I should care,
as I nod dumbly to your every point,
telling me why you know, definitively,
that I am lying.
This is why my poetry shall refer only to emotions.
Nobody reads emotion as fiction;
you can feel it as they tug at your own-
A broken heart, a smile, a stray giggle.
Whether I made that journey is no business but my own,
but the cold I can describe perfectly;
Not biting, but stinging, and numb in every other sense.
The fear giving way to tears, which froze on my cheeks.
Besides, if this really is fiction, if I had really
made all of it up inside of my head,
would I still lie to you?
Of course I would.
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 11:24 PM UTC
Take up the insomniac’s burden
So sleepless and yet not tired,
Look not up to your bed.
For there is nothing more we desire.
We live in simple contradiction,
At day, the city hums it’s lullabies
But here we are. Awake,
Forced to endure those sleeper’s sullen cries.
Take up the insomniac’s burden
To never feel again,
The patience in that persons eye
And you thought there’d never be an end.
They wonder why we don’t sleep
You see..us insomniacs are all the same
In some way there’s no getting over
The hurricane after the rain.
Take up the insomniac’s burden
A war of raging peace
Still awake, our soft hearts breathe irregularly.
It’s frustrating. To say the least.
To know that you won’t be the same
At least not anytime soon
To know that person’s gone forever
And all she left for me? The moon.
Take up the insomniac’s burden
We live just night by night
Some of us..nothing but ****** romantics
We’re just attack dogs without their bites.
We sit and over think our plans
Plotting on how to set them in motion.
So go tell the city’s lovers we’re on our way
To assassinate. Their emotion.
Sep 19, 2010
Sep 19, 2010 at 5:53 PM UTC
It is simple, and yet sublime;
Incapturable.
You need not go in,
Take away the man, destabilising the economy
That you so love
Letting them die
You need not assassinate and collaborate,
Scheme and puncture
Spheres of influence that stretch and bubble
In Latin America and Southern Asia,
You need not sign secrets away
Safe and deep
In silos and bunkers
Where Armageddon sleeps.
You need not supply, buy and axchange
Implements of violence and rage,
Picking sides in civil war, tribal conlflict
And bigger,
In lands you do not understand
Lands where the mountains resonate with holiness,
Lands of spiritual awakening awaiting for the young;
Concepts you can’t grasp, that don’t sit well
You need leave them be.
Enough has been done,
Not always with bad intention
But rarely for the greater good
Enough has been said and bought and replaced
Captured, shot at, disgraced,
Caricatured into funny cartoons
Taken over, the masters’ role assumed.
For all the radars and sonar
It seems impossible to listen;
Simple, yet sublime.
Incapturable.
Irreplaceable.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 12:52 PM UTC
to take out your whole crew
it only takes one call
we'll see you riding solo and
put yo **** against the wall
trigger hammer gunshot to your head watch your dead body collapse fast and fall to the floor all sprawled
paint a picture see your brain splatter
I'm going crazy like the mother ****** mad hatter
does it matter
ha I think it does
because the threats a promise on the lines made out in the plan cuz
I'll creep in and silence you
show you how the violent do
didn't you know that calm one's always kill you (for real dude)
You walk tall with your glass jaw and your liquor
you're girl is so drugged up that's why she only sticks wit ya
you're loud and obnoxious with a
brain and breathe so toxic
far from hypnotic well over neurotic and
My only logic
is to show you how parassitic,symbiotic, pathetic, you don't get it, your read it but you're illiterate
while I spit a bit
you try to make a legitimate comeback but you slack ***** don't talk back
you lack the determination,education, dedication, it's amazing
that you even think you're on the same level
I'm a new school rebel tearing old fools like you on the heavy gettin pretty messy
I'm pushing boulders while you're pushing pebbles
you're nothing but a ***** like barney rubble
such a tragedy.... oh wait nevermind
evolution called you're just a waste of it's time
you **** too many ****** and 1,2,3
an itch and a burn oh! STD!!!
magically it came be
you're suffering
and on your knees
you're screaming please
while I end it with ease
and you don't really know who I am
assassinate, desecrate, emasculate, devistate these mother ******* need to know that I won't ever hesitate,
to put em in a black hole out of existence
twist em up turn em up into nothingness
I'm no longer discussing this
come on be my witness
I'm bringin the apocalypse
into this low grade *****
phaze come and take the switch
before I **** em a twitch of the hand back slap come on pack clap wit ya man
Dec 19, 2010
Dec 19, 2010 at 10:39 AM UTC
Your anonymous blog
To my face you are kindness itself:
cheerful, always upbeat,
but in your anonymous blog
you rip me apart.
You press your thumb and forefinger on each side,
hold, pull and rend,
and rupture my very innards.
You focus on me,
my life, my words, my actions and my body
like you are a Celestron Telescope
searching for every single crater and irregularity.
With an Ultima Barlow lens
and your Leica M9 18MP
You grab each natural image
and then rearrange reality with
your precious, perversely pesuasive, periscopic Photoshop technique.
poetic liberty has leased you a license to assassinate,
humiliate,
decimate,
invalidate,
severely lambaste,
and mockingly castrate
everything that I identify as me.
literary freedom allows you to liberally fabricate,
mutilate,
denigrate,
incriminate,
scathingly castigate,
and maliciously urinate
on what others think of me.
To my face you are kind beyond selflessness,
but on your online beat,
your anonymous malevolence
sets you apart
from all the others
that have ever wanted
to write me up,
put me down,
and publish me out.
– Zumwalt (2011) (copied from www.zumpoems.com)
Aug 22, 2011
Aug 22, 2011 at 8:53 AM UTC
If the Messiah they need is a woman
Convince them only men are holy.
If the Messiah they need is black
Convince them only white is holy
If the Messiah they need is same gender loving or non-binary
Convince them only heterosexual is holy
If the Messiah they need is proud
Convince them only humility is holy
If the Messiah they need holds knowledge in their left hand
Convince them the right hand is holy
If the Messiah they need has a ten point plan of righteously defending one's self
Convince them that the only holy answer is nonviolence.
If they ever one day happen to believe that they can define:
Self
By Self
Through Self
Of Self
Convince them that holiness is only attainable through a message and belief of:
Holy and selective Prosperity
Holy and selective Favoritism
Holy and selective
Elitism
If they ever happen to look in the mirror and one day love all that they see
Convince them that the holy standards of beauty deems every and all that makes them what they are ugly
If they ever happened to one day realize that the Messiah that they need is within all of them as a United People
Convince them that the holy Messiah can only lay in one person per generation and then publicly assassinate the person that they believe
Or you have chosen
To be their
Messiah.
© Christopher F. Brown 2018
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 2:04 AM UTC
Stop telling me what to do, how to speak, how to feel.
I'm not listening to you anymore.
You don't control me
I am reclaiming my body, my life
I am reclaiming me
For many years you had me restrained.
I listened to every word that left your Lips
Like the wind blowing through the trees
I listened
And I felt, and I heard….
And I hurt.
You don't control me.
I am reclaiming my body, my life
I am reclaiming me
And no matter how many times you afflict pain on me,
Leaving me bruised and scarred
I will not listen.
My ears are clogged up to your voice
And I will not listen.
My feelings you cannot manipulate
And I will not listen
This mind control you once had over me is pulverized
And I will not listen
You still try to speak, demanding attention with every word that leaves your pitiful mouth
Like you are the teacher and I am the student
But is it not time for the student to become the teacher
I will annihilate you, extinguish you, nuke and shatter you
Until you are the one begging for my forgiveness
Until you are the one deal dealing with the pain I dealt with for far too long
Until you are the one that everyone abhors.
You see…
I've been dealing with you since the 5th grade.
You are the pesky mosquito in my ear that I cannot assassinate.
You are always there
And I can't eradicate you
You don't control me
I am reclaiming my body, my life
I am reclaiming me.
Depression, anxiety I am terminating your hold over me
This relationship is deceased.
Your words are mute in my ear
And I cannot listen.
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 3:33 PM UTC
I never meant to break your heart
I never meant to walk out that night
I never meant to make you cry
I never meant to assassinate a part of you
I never meant to die that night
I never meant to run away
I never meant to
Please believe I never meant to
You see, I was always afraid
You were touching a part of me that I never thought anyone could
It felt so strange but it felt so right
And I hope you understand that it was too much for me at time
So I simply took a break
Running as fast as I could to the other side of the world
But when I finally arrived I realized I had made a great mistake
But I convinced myself that it was already too late
I never muscled up the courage to return home to you
I thought maybe you'd be upset with me
That you would never forgive me
Just causing me to really die inside
But I started to think that maybe I deserve to
Just thinking about how I must've made you feel
I began to cry every night starring at an old picture of you
Then I made up my mind that I was coming back home to you
But when I finally arrived I realized I had made another mistake
Because all I saw was you smiling away
I don't know what I really expected
I mean you were always too beautiful to be single forever
I see you got the two kids you always wanted
A boy and a girl named them Linus and Aries
I'm so happy for you
You fulfilled your dream
Then to make it even better you forgave me
I should be so elated, jumping in so much joy
But for the life of me I can't even put on a fake smile
So I walked away again
This time I went to the lake by the old house we bought together
Then I pulled out the gun you brought me for my birthday
Finally I closed my eyes and began to pray
Next thing I know I was dead
I never meant to break your heart
I never meant to walk out that night
I never meant to make you cry
I never meant to assassinate a part of you
I never meant to die that night
I never meant to run away
I never meant to
Please believe I never meant to
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 2:12 PM UTC
Red water, thick fluid
It's all the same
The blood running through us
No matter the life. No matter the name.
We all reek of selfishness
with the aroma of sin
We find hatred as pure bliss
Allowing demons to sink in
Letting them take over our intellect
Poisoning our flowers which sprout out of our veins
Our harmony is wrecked
The collectors of our guilt keep them locked in chains
We meditate on the thought of letting go
We raise our wings towards the sun
The sunflowers in your palms begin to grow
Once again we are one
Breaking through the barriers of doubt
We assassinate the demons we own
Our body will no longer fear droughts
We sing along to the melody the wind blown
The drums beat to our valuable souls
We nod our head and grin an incredible grin
Running free and wild with the foals
With a deep breath we feel the sun against our skin
We have escaped
This is our only chance
Without hesitation when the sky is draped
We lift our hands in perfect harmony and begin the sundance.
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 10:34 PM UTC
I'm sort of sick
Of hating you
But loving you is too cliche
I'm just a bit over
Ignoring you
But talking is overrated
I'm so far past
Writing you poetry
This is the exception
I'm just a bit beyond
Trying to get you
Because I'd hate to lose you
I'm not one for valuables
As valuables are stolen
And it breaks my heart
Should I ever get you
The thief would theive
The robber would rob
The hitman would hit
The assassin, assassinate
The seductress, ******
And I would lose you
As I lose everything else
So I won't have you at all
Because I'm above liking your eyes
No matter how they shine
When you laugh so brightly
I'm not one to treat you right
Though I would hold the doors
And take the bill
I'm too good to watch you
While I memorize the words
You say in your own little way
I'm to great for your problems
But if you confided in me
I'd be your greatest ally
And I'm far too good for these tears
Because I've not lied about a single thing
Not a single thing I've written here
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 10:49 PM UTC
I was so proud
Following Cupid
The greatest Cherub
Gifting all of mankind
With the power of love
Aiming the arrows
Dipped in that emotion
Where two fall together
Giving their precious hearts
To be with one another
We never leave anyone out
Be it man loving woman
Man in love with man
Woman falling for woman
Need be, even man and sheep
But I tried to stop war once
Shooting arrows at Presidents
Hoping two men of power
Could bring the love of peace
To a world deeply in need
They had to assassinate them
Put two more warmongers in charge
So once again I tried
Once more they were assassinated
So I hung up my bow and arrow
You see, never blame the Presidents
Because they are only puppets
On strings, led by power mad Generals
Using war to make a profit
But also preventing true love
Jul 5, 2015
Jul 5, 2015 at 12:49 PM UTC
Anarchy
Grows in my heart organically
I'm sky high
Don't apply to no gravity
Mid'flight dog fightin' with insanity
Crash to the floor
My eyes burning with clarity
Mind state retaliate eradicate depravity
Assassinate a character
Animate a passenger
Blind hate.
The scavenger
The ravager
Ravish all the challengers
And massacre the amateurs
Banish all the stragglers
Smack with em a cannister
**** sliding down the bannister
Pay my debts like my second name was Lannister
Vanish like a phantom of the avatar
The damager
The battler
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 10:09 AM UTC
Stone Swamy Downey to death
Roared the Kodfather
Amidst the mob
Hooded, stamping his feet on the ground.
Dust was flickering all over the air
He has
No fear
No pain
No guilt
Kodfather blasted out words.
He spat the cigarette **** out
His is a free mind
'T cannot be ruled
If he survives
We are doomed
Took the mouse from the plate before him
Cut its head with a scissors.
Blood pouring from
the innocent creature's remains
'T was dropped
Assassinate his character
That's enough of an excuse
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 1:08 AM UTC
Reality tv feeding the idiocracy
It's no secret my idiosyncrasy is increasing
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Parallel to my ever elevating feel of paranoia
I have a sympathy insufficiency
I demand more catastrophe
It's a ******* conspiracy!
I blame the aliens
Harvesting our brains
We are the sheep
Home on the range
Chalk it up for each and every mindless chucklefuck
More concerned with dynasty ducks
Distractions and false flags
You are my demise
Scourge of Mother Earth
?sdrawkcab evlover dlrow eht seod yhW
Such staunch contempt for the human race
Object of my fascination
Thou wilt bow to my conquest
Lo, hear my battle cry;
Oh how I vie,
to assassinate
all asinine swine!
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC
Evening is the time when the shadows come alive and become crisp in a flickering light, that it is no longer yellow. White, neon, unnatural. No more it resembles candle flame. It looks like a ruthless moonshine which scatters from a ghost lantern. I wake up, not from a dream, but the reality of life and get up, not out of bed, but out of the chair of common life convict. I slip out of clothes and shoes worn by ordinary man. I released the tie, honorary sash won on vanity competition that made me tight, suffocating like a noose. It is not merciful to assassinate me in a flash, but squeezes the breath of life out of me every day, bit by bit. I put my true outfit, specially sewn soft seams on blue silk. My neck is naked, free at last, adorned by corrugated blue organza collar woven by hand, each thread is a smile and a tear streaked with golden sigh. I smeared my face with white paint to hide the traces of blush caused by shame over the living, high capillary pressure of too many emptied cups of bitterness and dark circles as a result of each conscious decision. Hiding clues of eyebrows and transforming into myself, the Harlequin. Painting white to cover the everyday life and return to the carelessness, to the easy present. With the practiced movement I put away my pomades of transformation and close spell cabinet. Last look at the silver reflection and I'm ready for a trip through the deserted streets of the matchbook labyrinth.
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 1:59 PM UTC
Stone Swamy Downey to death
Roared the Kodfather
Amidst the mob
Hooded, stamping his feet on the ground.
Dust was flickering all over the air
He has
No fear
No pain
No guilt
Kodfather blasted out words.
He spat the cigarette **** out
His is a free mind
'T cannot be ruled
If he survives
We are doomed
Took the mouse from the plate before him
Cut its head with a scissors.
Blood pouring from
the innocent creature's remains
'T was dropped
Assassinate his character
That's enough of an excuse
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 10:29 AM UTC
Two men entering the arena
From different regions
Battling
For a precious beauty
Named Sabula
With weapons of choice
Bravery is thy game
Courage
I stand upon
Death is only misfortune
My record of victories
Speaks for itself
Challenging with my conning skills
Boldness and swiftness which involves
A competitor's stance
May the spirits hold me
As I slew
This ignorant runt
For a beauty
I must assassinate
Jan 19, 2010
Jan 19, 2010 at 6:02 PM UTC
Once Upon A Time
The truth is,
I saw you for real,
not just your eyes,
though they were the window,
not just your mouth, though it was the door,
the truth is,
I saw you,
in a flash of light,
in a fleeting moment of intangible time,
somewhere between uncontrollable chaos,
and unconscious calm,
I saw you,
and in that fleeting moment,
I saw we all want to feel,
both comfortably numb,
as well as every possible awkward emotion,
imagine all the people living in harmony,
see there’s a little Lennon in all of us,
just not enough...
We all want to feel,
both comfortably numb and every possible awkward emotion,
who killed John Lennon,
who killed JFK,
they want to assassinate our characters indiscriminately,
anyone could be informant don't know who to trust these days,
is that why what little emotion you still hold,
you try and hide away?
Well,
you can’t hide from me,
you see,
I see you,
you see I see you,
and your unconscious charade,
but your charade can’t fool me,
just like John Legend can’t replace,
John Lennon or The Weeknd can’t replace,
Michael Jackson or how Donald J can’t replace JFK,
or how MLK can’t be replaced be anybody,
because nobody’s even trying to stand for anything anymore,
unless they’re standing drink in their hand on the dance floor,
who killed MLK,
who killed Michael Jackson,
who killed Prince and why haven’t we felt a thing ever since,
it seems we lost ourselves but we don't know how it happened,
and I just want to feel again,
and I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen,
and I know the deal,
the real truth and the real you so please stop acting,
the truth is,
I see you,
so don’t act like you don’t care,
because we both know I know that you do,
and please pinch me to prove we aren’t dreaming,
even though we both know we have nothing to prove,
and nothing to lose,
please show me some meaning in all of this,
and I’m not asking for understanding,
I’m just acting for some acceptance,
I’m not asking for anything else actually,
well maybe also for you to at least acknowledge,
that I see you not part of you but all of you,
you can't fool me with those mirages,
I see right through the tools you use to confuse with,
you see I see you,
so accept this,
without exception,
show me your Self,
or show me nothing,
tell me something,
that you’ve been waiting to never share,
because I’ve gone numb from all these faux pas feelings,
and false hand dealings from those that never cared,
see it seemed I’d lost hope until I found you right there,
and now,
I’m seeing,
something,
someone,
who reminds me,
you remind me,
to remember,
that we felt once,
and for that,
I love you,
forever,
and I’m indebted to you,
and I’m here,
to return the favor,
so I remind you,
that we felt once,
and we still do,
and I still see you,
not the fake you but the real you,
and the real you wants the real truth and the truth is I see you,
or at least I saw you before I forgot to remember,
because you forgot to remind me to remind you...
The truth is,
I saw you for real,
not just your eyes,
though they were the window,
not just your mouth, though it was the door,
the truth is,
I saw you,
in a flash of light,
in a fleeting moment of intangible time,
somewhere between uncontrollable chaos,
and unconscious calm,
I saw you,
and in that fleeting moment,
I saw we all want to feel,
both comfortably numb,
as well as every possible awkward emotion,
imagine all the people living in harmony,
see there’s a little Lennon in all of us,
just not enough...
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
Jun 29, 2017
Jun 29, 2017 at 9:20 PM UTC
Mass hysteria
and this is how we rumble
in black clothes with
cops two streets over
ready to assassinate
US presidents and dissidents.
Ready for air.
Ready for takeoff,
the embrace of the long
arm of the law is a chokehold
is a racist institution and
here we are;
junkies, gamblers, jokers, monsters.
Funny thing, we went hunting for
people dressed as monsters
led by monsters disguised as humans.
Yeah, our geniuses die young and brutal.
Ours is the land of stray dogs,
cold rains and streets of garbage
[people included];
The stereotype is today.
The cliche is right now.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 9:23 PM UTC
There are moments,
Brief instances in time;
Where I convince myself that the feelings will subside.
Fixated on the past,
Perpetuated by fantasy.
Tricks of the mind,
To assassinate the ecstasy.
Any bliss of romance,
Masked as sins of my ignorance.
Live in it.
Fester and brood.
Allowing time to pass,
Expecting duration to change the mood;
Enter you.
Notice how the air has only thickened.
Imprinted on my heart,
The loss has left me sickened.
Distraught,
Futilely taming my thoughts.
Longing to be connected,
But through trial it’s been tested,
I took too long to learn lesson.
The risk of progression.
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 6:10 PM UTC
Yo imma Apex Predator, tell me who be my competitor/
Yo imma Apex Predator, I look into the Mirror, that be my competitor/
Do not be mistaken that is not a Prideful statement/
Checking right outta da clinic I'm not virtuous with Patients(patience)/
Haa!
Misfit in Neighborhoods/ Wood crest I been sub-urban Free Man Opposite of Hood/
feeling like Huey really I'm "understood" like a single lady Target Practice add a "Miss" if you should/
living as a slave drink a cup of His "Blood"/ but I am Not a vampire you can check my diary "cuz!"/
Huh!!
Emotional after a Horror Show/
The genocide a steady toll as I fight for my Soul/
You'll never get me unless you greet me with Fists/
persecution may come imma Radical *********
I tell em bring it and I pull out a Massive fist/
Ladies are only worried bout how many lips I've kissed/
Never worry imma virgin(yes!!) and Pacifist/
Even though I could tongue Twist/ like am An Exorcist/
Ha!!
Not perverted in the Least/
I been fighting with myself forgetting I am a Beast/
Been elated elevated from the bottom to the feet/
So I "kneel " before the Father knowing nothing like"defeat"/
Start a war I be telling em get the Cranium/
Ready for Battle getting Fit in ya Brainy gym/
Challenge intelligence knowing that it is only Him/
I wish a Brother "wood lands"(would land) like the stadium/
Getcha Pride shot I got the Perfect gun /
Verbally assassinate and Hitchu like kasisi Nuns/
The Name Dexter I go Dum dee dee Dum/
Man Up! Lil boy I know that you're somebody's son/
Haa! Told to **** it I was looking for a Bible/
Dead to sin, Walking Dead, a Zombie that you Could stifle/
Die to gain Live for Christ no needing it for a Rifle/
Any body that come forward and Promise to be a Rival/
Ha!
Fruits of the Spirit on the table but your Plate is "Prideful"/
Think you a "Lion" but your lying rocking with mouth full/
Of disrespect do you neglect that you need to recycle/
The sin that Towers you like the Eiffel//
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 5:39 PM UTC