Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Matt Feb 2015
1 million Afghans and 15,000 Soviet conscripts died
Fought with American guns

Foreign nations had tried for centuries to conquer Afghanistan
In the 1970's it became a focus for the superpowers

To Moscow, a friendly Afghanistan was important

Afghanistan's new leader looked to the Soviet Union for support
The Soviet Union sent advisors to advance socialism

Land was taken from large owners
And handed to the peasants who worked it

Women were encouraged to stop wearing veils
And were put into literacy classes with men

The reforms were seen to threaten ancient customs
And the authority of the Mullahs

The Mullah says,
"God has decided who is rich and who is poor,
It can't be changed by communists."

Opponents of the reforms
Burned down schools and universities
Resistant grew throughout the country

Iranians joined in
Calling for a Jihad
Against the communists

The U.S. thought
That the Soviets might use the Afghan crisis
To move south
And seize the oil of the Persian Gulf

Meanwhile the Shah of Iran was overthrown
The U.S. lost its most important ally in the region
The U.S. considered the possibility of a Soviet controlled Iran

Carter sent the Mujahideen equipment,
Mostly communication equipment
They were mostly peasants

Recruits for the Jihad walked for days
Across the mountains to reach the fighting

Soviet trained Afghan army
Thousands of men deserted
Kabul requested Soviet troops

Afghan president met with Soviet leader

The Soviets feared the spread of Islamic fundamentalism
Into Afghanistan from Iran
The Soviets felt they had to send troops to stabilize the region
Moscow hoped they could complete their mission in weeks

Moscow had Amin assassinated
They didn't like him talking with the Americans

At the United Nations
The invasion of the Soviet Union was condemned

The Soviets began with large sweeps
Their approach was a disaster
Mujahideen remained in the villages
Guerilla fighters remained in the mountains

Reagan stepped up aid to the Mujahideen

The Mujahideen were spilt along tribal lines
They sometimes fought each other

A war fought with our gold
And their blood
According to CIA man

The U.S. viewed the conflict in Afghanistan as an internal
Cold War struggle
The U.S. provided assistance to anti-Soviet forces
Through the Pakistani intelligent services

The Red Army changed tactics
And took to the air
Soviet commandos
Dropped in by helicopters

Soviet aircraft bombing indiscriminantly
Village after village pummeled into oblivion
Then overrun by Soviet troops
The village men who refused to join the Afghan army were murdered

Thousands of civilians killed in Soviet atrocities

The mujahideen attacked Soviet convoys
2,000 Soviets died each year
The war seemed pointless to the Soviet soldiers

The mujahideen favored sabotage operations and assassinations
The Stinger missiles were effective for them as well

Reagan said,
"To watch the courageous Afghan freedom fighters
Battle modern arsenals with simple hand-held weapons is an inspiration to those who love freedom."

The war lasted almost a decade
The early foundations of al-Qaeda
Were allegedly built on relationships
And weaponry that came from billions
Of dollars in U.S. support for the Mujahideen

Scholars have argued that Bin laden was outside
Of CIA eyesight
And that there is no support for the claim
That the CIA funded Bin Laden
www.youtube.com/watch?v=D3m95FosmTw
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soviet_war_in_Afghanistan
ShamusDeyo Feb 2016
Freedoms Shot Down by Bullets of fear
The Fascist Faces Arise in the Crowd
As The Elections of Politicians draws near
The Neo Nazis and KKK Proclaim out loud
The Boasting and Bashing of Religion and Race
Stares America Right in the Face.....
Will you Stand and arise to Fight of Note?
Then Get off Your ***** and.....
GET OUT AND VOTE!!!!!!!

All the Work here is licensed under the Name
®SilverSilkenTongue and the © Property of J.Flack
its your choice.....
aria xero Oct 2012
Fire Hazard
A crime against humanity,
this life is pure and utter insanity,
waking up to restrictions of gravity.
I find myself committing to humility,
a step forward from brutality.
A ******* high trip of no pure quality.
Stop.
In honor of desperate assassinations,
Throw away any glimpse of foundation,
spiraling into a sess pool of hallucinations.
Cloudy minds smear wind shield wipers,
across grimy fixations.
Drop.
Clear all hesitations
of this imperfect reality
there’s no cure for the mental stability,
of human nature
that we so seldom take as a sign of fertility.
Wake up to noise that bleeds ears like
sewers so fatally.
Roll.
Ignorant mortals,
try not to sound so angry.
Austin Heath Jun 2014
Peak temperature water levels fake diagnoses white psychopaths starving hunger jingoism violence [systems that deprive us] guns entitlement shots fired accidents grief/mourning choking hazard corporate mascots corporate favoritism corporate bailouts corporate people ideology without monitor nationalism patriotism conservatives patriarchy ******-****-suicide victim silence lack of conviction religious ******* false history infant mortality job insecurity invisible hands trickle down economics union busters corporate police brutal police evil police secret police debt bankruptcy foreclosure homelessness lost confused prisoner criminal banker war preparations propaganda ballots commercials advertisements campaigns money power puppets figureheads armies genocides **** bomb gas fire no survival violence wealthy lawyers assassinations heart complications death sleep.
mother died today or maybe yesterday i can’t be sure  the telegram from the home says your mother passed away funeral tomorrow deep sympathy which leaves the matter doubtful it could have been yesterday - “the Stranger” Albert Camus

a misguided partiality exists inside me i feel safer around women maybe i’m fooling myself and women are equally capable of the brutal cruelties i associate with men i don’t know i guess i believe women hold themselves to a higher behavioral standard gentler more nurturing there’s another aspect to my belief women floor me i am totally vulnerable to a pretty woman but it must be stated my tastes run quite peculiar i prefer alternative looks and am put off by classic American glamour i guess the real deal is i’m a guy most comfortable among men watching World Series Sunday Monday Night Football despite the fact that if i were with a woman would be my greatest craving who cares what i think i apologize for opening my mouth

we are stranded by the side of road from out of nowhere a beat up gray truck pulls along side in a cloud of dust we cannot see driver from passenger side stubbly shaven mustached man wearing red bandana under tattered western hat in accented hoarse voice hollers out how much for the girl with terrified expression in her face her hand reaches for my arm i peer coldly into man’s eyes then glance away answering

a. what exactly do you have in mind

b. how much cash do you got on you

c. she’s not for sale

d. we need a ride

e. we’re lost do you have a cell phone

f. please leave us alone

g. all of the above

an extraordinarily attractive member of opposite *** runs into you on street in familiar tone of voice greets you speaking your name it’s been ages you look terrific i was just thinking about you the other day it’s such a wonderful surprise to see you do you have time to stop chat over coffee or drink i live quite near here please come over to my place let’s catch up i’d really love that this person then looks at you in a flirtatious seductive way yet you cannot place or remember where you know them or if you’ve ever known them you answer

a. yes

b. this is embarrassing i’ve forgotten your name

c. how do you know my name where do we know each other from

d. is it possible you’re confusing me with someone else

e. i have no idea who you are or what you want from me

f. all of the above

these are dark times every one acknowledges post-modernism post-911 is bleak jobless homeless callous frightful kali yuga no one nothing nowhere  is safe wars gruesome atrocities piracy blood diamonds **** mutilation theft deceit betrayal school yard bullying assassinations cyber espionage anti-depression drugs vicious video games why aren’t people making positive video games referencing cooperation affection happiness instead of Grand Theft Auto Vice City Call of Duty World at War Mortal Kombat what kind of world are we creating for future generations why does violence sell more than *** why is *** so unkind what kind of people are we better off dead they shoot horses don’t they what happened what’s happening why are we making this hell why aren’t we making better wiser more loving choices i don’t understand

in the late 1960’s early 70’s parents didn’t have money to buy their kids high school graduation gifts or perhaps the notion was not invented yet nobody had cars maybe a few guys i knew owned cars they bought with their own hard earned money everybody i knew who lived off campus and too far to bicycle hitch-hiked to school then hitch-hiked home every day for 4 or more years that’s how we all did it in Hartford i remember sitting in different adult’s cars indebted grateful looking thinking wondering will i grow up to be like him or her projecting connections

when i grew up it was a different time turn on tune in drop out in a way hippies were reactionary to all the modern progress atomic age we winged it by inexact methods that time is gone it is crucial at present to be coherent sober accurate mindful wakeful vigilant wary prepared 24/7 this history being written how will it be told i’ve been around long enough to know how these deceptions work we are all using feeding ripping off each other we give in to whoever wants us become whoever seeks to destroy us we disgust ourselves i’m astonished dumbfounded talk with me who are we please explain i beg you

who if i cried who would hear me among the angels even if one of them pressed me against heart i would be consumed in overwhelming existence for beauty is nothing but beginning of terror we are still just able to bear we are so awed because it serenely disdains to annihilate us every angel is terrifying – “2nd Elegy” Rainer Maria Rilke
Ston Poet Dec 2015
I buck the system my *****, like forget the system ***** , This world is  so Corrupted, The government just wanna take away are feelings, & make us into killing machines..just like the Nazis
(****  America)..Uhh

(They lie to us2,..MK Ultra,
(Its mind control
2)..mind control
This **** is getting way outta control..)*2

Uhh, The **** been going on , I been In my zone,
I been sad for so very long..
I been writing all alone, I been stuck in my room, broken mirrors, & Monarch butterflies all around me, The voices in my head won't leave me alone mane, tryna distract me from my Fathers truth homie, I'm having  Dreams of demons tryna take hold of my soul..(I won't let em get to me thou..)..Ayo, I'm getting so sick & tired dawg..Im feeling very depress, homicidal & suicidal, like Tommy Wright the 3rd but forget killing myself dawg.. I'm  just about to buss out the AK & go Rambo &  make these ******* die dawg..They are gonna feel the wrath of Young Ston Poet.. The ****** Disciple , that I felt for so very long..Man its eating up my insides..Uhh

I buck the system my *****, **** The system my *****,..I'm bringing pandemonium..
**** The CIA ***** , America isn't protecting us  , They ain't doing nothing but putting us on a string..Uhh, So Forget America mane..Im blowing **** up like the Two brothers did at the Boston Marathon dawg..Real Talk man..Uhh,...I just don't give a **** any more,about nothing..Yeah

America **** them..Yeah
America is just filled with puppets man.. Sinning Machines, humanoids,clones..****, people thats just here for devilish purposes, like assassinations, & prostitution..
**** all of that sick **** man, **** being a robot for the white man, **** mind control..Imma stand against the **** ****..This is Only For The Real..This is Only For The Righteous.. Uhh

They lie to us, Its mind control.. MK Ultra..Uhh
stonpoet.tumblr.com
james nordlund Jun 2020
All saw united **** of assassin's Gov't's premeditated taking
a knee for 9 minutes on George Floyd's neck, the **** cop
calmly looking into the camera, an assassination for many
reasons, who's seeing past the 'show', following the $?

Ebony, ivory supremacies repeating their victory of 2016's
(Only) Black Lives Matters participation in the Int'l criminal
conspiracy's installing **** into the Black House, etc.,
determining their dividing the nation, in perfect harmony.

Like the bi-headed, Utin and Utin's ****, global axi of
supposed power has re-established, East, West, you're
either totalitarian or not-see, and if not you're murdered
by both, now either Black or white supremacist, or die.

For 15 years ebony has dictated Caucasians call themselves
"white", "be proud of being white", make believe they have
"white privilege", to the benefit of division, ivory, when
there's no "whites", and almost no non-repubs thought it.

That while the reality is their class war against the lower-
middle-class to poor, the boot on our neck, by the police/
military/intelligence complexes, is all 23 flavors of the
baskin + robbins of supremacies, usa, the global oligarchy.

Criminal insanity, that illegally installed the Int'l crime
family **** into the Blackhouse: repubs, conservatives, global
hackers, wicked leaks, J. Assange, usa intelligence/military/
police/prison industrial complexes, J. Comey, R. Barr, C. + K.

West, J. Stein, 13 % of Bernie or Bust 'Bots voting **** and
another % that stopped the youth vote from getting behind a
"not perfect" Hillary, "boat loads" of organized crime $ from
Russia, Ukraine, white supremacy, sinos, linos, ginos, ainos,

dinos, Moore for hawking 'trumpland' entitled book for months
before the election while projecting **** "would win", a % of
the elite of the black supremacy, etc., just allowed the not-
sees, totalitarians to destroy, ****** at an increased clip,

now add premeditated pandemic, ebony/ivory dictated duality,
racial environmental justice "only my environment matters"
movement and voila, the end of the climate crisis movement,
total extermination of humanity to it's extinction, in a can.

It's not a coinky-**** that the "knee" was taken upon the
news that "Biden was considering not choosing a woman of the
right color, Black".  For Ebony figures "if they're not get-
ting a Black president now, through a Black VP pick, they

might as well just put up with 4 more years of ****.  Biden,
Sanders, Warren, etc., will have aged out, Booker, Harris,
Patrick, etc., will be sitting pretty for the 'once you go
Black you never go back' prez job.", same as it ever was.  

Even though the 'show' was able to pull a Mattis out of their
hat, supposedly legitimizing not just the military, but the
republican conspiracy, during this 15th anniv. of the 'use'
of Katrina to "clean out the bowl", and "let the river take

what's the river's", exterminate the lower-middle-class to
poor, gentrify, militarize NOLA by purposely not preventing
the failing of the levees by 2005, by Reagan "we got 300
buses but no drivers" Nagin, Gov. Blanco, etc., to the tune

of mass-murdering going on 3000 predominantly lower-middle-
class to poor, mostly people of color, like king george and
his ****, cheney didn't the terrorist attacks of 9-11-01 and
serial murderers masquerading as cops don't daily terrorist

attacks, their one-sided and continual coverage of the
"current controversy", as ebony and the 'Blackish' lead
actor called the premeditated murderer of some women, ******,
kidnapper of 100's more, B. Cosby, was suffering from, is

clear, keeping the faux opening news out.  No ebony racist
comments, like the Houston Police Chief who repeatedly stated
throughout the day that "the looters were white" only, were
even remarked on.  The lock, ebony and ivory, the fix is in,

if it ain't fixed don't break it.  All the smoke and mirrors,
song and dance, show, weapons of mass distraction, to take
the news cycles off the too early "opening of the country",
pandemic, by ebony for ivory, in the world can't change the

facts, even though it's death toll is only 111,000 by their
accounts, actually 122,000, and there's going on 2 million
infected, there will be an extra 100,000 murdered by ****'s
policies and lack thereof in handling his virus circus.

That there's more prisoners, defacto-slave laborers now than
the number of slaves at the height of the slave trade, here,
not spoken about because ebony, ivory are both the corporate
structure, global oligarchy that it enriches, won't change.

See how the assassinations of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor,
George Floyd, have paid ivory by ebony, like they did in 2016
to stop there being a minimum of 16 years straight of 'white'
prezs, Hillary and Tom.  Their deaths and the aftermath being

used now to cover up the premeditated ****** of 10,000's of
Blacks by ****, because ebony + ivory, working together in
perfect harmony to fill every news cycle now and for months,
want 'the economy open', to make them more $ now, instead

of saving all those Black lives who don't actually matter to
them at all, 'cause it's all about the benjamins, instead.  
Biden should pick a progressive woman to cement Bernie
voters, if not, then a liberal one of color, no particular hue.  

'De-funding police dept.s', etc., should wait until after the
election, unless ebony's insisting **** wins to get a Black
prez in 2024, instead.  The determined Winter of our death,
extermination to come, will surpass their class warfare's

liquidation of ases and assets of the masses en masse's
increased rate of blitzkreiging Gaia's kids to their
extinction.  Now it seems too late, their 'use' of pandemic
to subjugate the world to survival instead of alival,

exigency instead of humanity, has closed eyes, minds, pulled
the rug out....  But, "...we(e),..." can't be over-confident,
apathetic, cynical, complacent, nihilistic, pessimistic,
burned-out, for supposed anarchy is the global bi-polar axi

of supposed power's mutual modus operendi, to determine
la machine's chaos, and the division it causes, increases
vacuum-up economics to the global oligarchy, replicating the
'show' that must goes on, including colonialism, hegemony,

patriarchy, imperialism, supremacy, conspiracy, etc..  If you
didn't vote Hillary you voted Utin and his **** be installed
into the Black House.  There's public records of who did and
didn't do what, please stop them from doing it again, or die.

Protect, occupy, GOTV, "you can't dismantle the man's house
with the man's tools", Lordes, notseeism and totalitarianism.  
"The root of all oppression lies in (supposed) science",
Gandhi.  If you're not taking bullets you're making them.  
Viva la vida, solidaridad, la evolucion   :)   reality
The normal they want to return to, northern malaise, euro-centrism and projections of academia, a blood disease, have always flown in the face of necessity, progress and the need for humanity to even be allowed to exist.  Yet, now with coronaing of everyone going on, that desire for normalcy and return of norms takes on new hues; some very human and even desirable.  That while the purposeful too early opening of the country has already determined that being pandemiced is the new normal for at minimum a year (possibly permanently); until we get a vaccine or more life-saving treatment possibilities.  This has all opened many eyes to the disparaging realities of pre-pandemic America, where the life expectancy of people of color, and more so, the lower-middle-class to poor, were predominantly still only being addressed by their getting the establishment’s projected healthcare for them, eat st and die.  That goes for sociological maladies as well, for e.g., the lower-middle-class to poor suffering oppression from serial murderers masquerading as cops; police brutality tantamount to a incurable birth defect of all poor.  The injustice system and their dictating everybody accused of anything must plead guilty to a lesser charge or face the draconian rage of la machine’s dictating they get little lousy representation in fixed trials that most of the time determine ******* up or false convictions and incarcerations unequal to the reality of the circumstances that took place.  I wish I weren’t diffabled to the point where I can’t be at the front of these demonstrations for real change taking place now; as I had been for decades in the past- yet, still am doing all I can.  Thanx to you and All for doing all you do; have a great day    :)    reality
Coop Lee Jun 2014
some say love is a burning thing. that it makes a fiery ring.

so kiss her.
or don’t.
and always regret.
always bike home thinking.
always think of love.

she’s in a parking lot somewhere drinking cheap wine,
balancing on the bumper.
he’s on the river somewhere drinking cheap beer,
balancing boulders.

a dog sprints by and forgets all heartache.
he is happy.

the town and the people and the job and the dreams.
the nothings
and the everythings.
and the little life this is.

to slipstream years gone by.
one fire in the sky, or another in the hills
just west of town.
something said about the smoke.
we take a weekend to spool through the story of your folks.
film cans or video cassettes,
or home re-sets. rewind.

words and faces scrawled in a tome of note.
spoken little memories,
little mysteries.
stories to tell no one.
stories to tell those who will listen.

the boys with dirtbike brothers.
the brothers with drunken fathers.
the fathers with dead wives.
the wives with ancient mothers.
the mothers and their children.
and the children living well enough.
living calm, then free.
far away, then close.

an empire.
of highways and histories.
of songs and the souls they swing.
of old money/new money,
betrayal on the horizon.
blacktop jamborees and assassinations.
driveways and nicely neighborhood lit-upon lawns.
well-trimmed trees.
a never-ending tree of lovers,
grasped and gasping for the sky.
listen and wait.
for the sun to kiss the moon goodbye.

                              [a family and their dog.]

this chrysalis.
this coincidence that is us, on one good gust.
from heart to hand to sons and daughters.
synchronized to die and revive and imbibe along the ride.
a tableau of animalia.
feasting and sleeping and awoken
by the wide little world all around.

we are fires in the night. let us bathe you in our light.
I wrote this during the actual Two Bulls Fire of western Bend, Oregon 2014. The sky was lit orange like I have never seen it before, but poems about the sky and fire have been scribed to death. So I wrote about more than just fires, in fact nothing about fires, besides fires of the heart &/or, love.
Martin Narrod Dec 2014
The inside's come out of the skin. Nothing is satirical. It's just not funny. Spiderwebs on the elbows and cancer coming into the ears. Hair is everywhere and all of a sudden. The writer risks blue and black blood for another second of this bliss cessation. But cleverly, sins and bedevilments come. They hide poorly or not at all. bump they go go go in the daytime while I am fastening sleep and heating up.
     The cadaver masterpiece is happening again. The same as it always was for has beens when their lucid dreaming raises the rage in their real lives.
     There isn't a safe-word, just a blanket. Two tee-shirts with signatures, and lingerie that lacks a heartbeat.
     Half a tooth brush missing the rest of its teeth, and a knit panda hat empty from above the bottom of its feet.
    To be sick of it does not make a difference. If broccoli was the word, Dana Carvey would have come to chop it up.

When it breathes my pores leak nostalgia from the predicaments; We pretended to grow up. This isn't the adventure season I hoped for. I could see the page crawling up the street beside every single cigarette I threw across the parkway. Now Michael styles the mercury, while those grown ups we knew cry themselves into a blur; Like a movie they just couldn't escape, or the way they met one half of chaste, there are just some things that shouldn't be erased.

Playing with a bazooka while emptying my ice box. I build on schemes of crazy the d oh d just wishes they could ignore. I drink lemonade, you drink lemonade. IPA after motherf*ing IPA. It is or it isn't but I'd thought you had enough trying typhoid drip one after another hysterical catastrophe. Dear I was poisoned from an ill-witted sickness, I messed around with your Blackjack and doubled-down into two black diamonds. Instead of learn'd weekly abuse.
                                                          Our island on a hundred dollar towel. An eroteme waiting to implode. Four periods every other week, I just waited for the mouse to roll.

gut rot
migraines.
painful exploding pressure of the skull
does not eat
hearing increase
eyesight improvement
proudly made in the u.s.a.
chipped nail polish comes off middle fingers
does not sleep
erupts verbally
bleeds from fingertips
hates. hurts.
Be is the short form of Is
She has eyes that tell her truths
That bruise youth
But do not amuse
Ferris Bueller's muse
Silver too. Haircut rivalries.
Privy eyewitness testimonies
For assassinations that haven't
Begun happening. But rapt
The veiling attachment,
Froth of words, the disaster
Never brings.
Lies upon lies upon lies
Until we both stood up.
Written to Doc's Song (End Credit Reprise) by Rostam Batmanglij - The East (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) and "It's You" by Robert Schwartzman from Palo Alto (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)

Rice Krispie, you read the message wrong. You were supposed to avoid Logan Square.
History's greatest psychic,
Micheal de Nostrademus prophesied.
He wrote and wrote.
Words on calamity
of terrifying magnanimity.
War leader after another,
battles and assassinations after the previous one.
Morality in all decisions was part of his plans.
Blood, death, waste and famine are quite familiar in our age
but in the end our century will be peaceful.

    "Peace prosecuted by death
    shall be achieved.
    In one night,
    green that have
    been long dead
   will grow green again.
   After the war,
   there would be a re-newed rain
   and a Golden Age,
   and a peace that would last
   a 1000 Years.
jeffrey robin Jan 2016
.



Reading the poetry of the dumb *****

Trying to cram a boy

Into the steel trap vacancy

Of their meaningless lives

While I probe into the lines

Hoping to find a remnant

Of something human



/////
//              //

||

the gentle power

( creation )

The saint in celestial wisdom

Gazes into the pulsations of grace and humility

That linger amid

The countless assassinations

That are the mark of the world's depravity




dumb **** life !

The loveless pretensions !

( no one is really here at all )

)(

Just a bunch of kids

Getting ready to be *****

//

By others

And by themselves !

//

The stream that flows by the cabin door

)(

The pure maiden !


//

Alive in the healing magic of her art !

)(

The tenderest memories !

)(

And we ALL are there

::

The young boys and girls !

The sacred words !

The wealth amid the poverty

)(

We DO understand !


////

Along the broken dream streets

We stumble

Some

Trying to escape madness into the

Hearts of each other


Most trying to find solace

In the exicitment of pain

And the herd mentality

Of terminal indifference

•••


Child !

Be ready to choose


Even l am mortal

And will be here for only a little while more !

|||

So

Don't get slimed by a dumb ****

And their promises of numbness

As a form of peace !

We are the warriors

;;

The stream flows by the cabin door


See the pure maiden !

Find the love that is true


You are ALWAYS welcome there


.
Deceptive prying
Lying
Hovering accusations
Twisted assassinations
Burnt offerings
of Misinformation
Dangling
Entangling
Enticing forgiveness
Betrayal unfolded
Put to bed scolded
Love
Max Neumann Nov 2019
i was brought up to
read books and play the
violin

i am from the heart of the
world you
know

a place among thieves
a place among business aspirations
a place among the pines

actually like a
postcard however
someday a clan of

gory
icy
determined

men came into town
men who took up
residence

between pines and a business park
buildings were built by the
men of the clan:

golden paint
giant offices
porsches
lambos
maybachs

gory
icy
determined

men had come into town
yelling in strange terms:

brate
hajde
jebi se

unexpected assassinations
executions of local mobsters
****** threats on judges

jebi se!
brate hajde

old methods
new turf

a war began
clan against mob
murderer against murderer
man against man

this place where i
lived
this place among
pines

turned into a war zone
year 2019

corners packed with hordes
willing to die
armed with

machetes
pump actions
rocket launchers
tanks

this place where i
lived
this place among
pines

turned into a war zone
year 2019
Flobots - Handlebars
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3M104iSE3CI


I can ride my bike with no handlebars
No handlebars, no handlebars
I can ride my bike with no handlebars
No handlebars, no handlebars

[Verse One]
Look at me, look at me
Hands in the air like it's good to be
Alive, and I'm a famous rapper
Even when the paths are all crooked-y
I can show you how to dosey-doe
I can show you how to scratch a record
I can take apart the remote control
And I can almost put it back together
I can tie a knot in a cherry stem
I can tell you about Leif Ericson
I know all the words to "De Colores"
And I'm proud to be an American
Me and my friends saw a platypus
Me and my friend made a comic book
And guess how long it took
I can do anything that I want, cause look

[Hook One]
I can keep rhythm with no metronome
No metronome, no metronome
And I can see your face on the telephone
On the telephone, on the telephone

[Verse Two]
Look at me, look at me
Just called to say that it's good to be
Alive, in such a small world
I'm all curled up with a book to read
I can make money, open up a thrift store
I can make a living off a magazine
I can design an engine
64 miles to a gallon of gasoline
I can make new antibiotics
I can make computers survive aquatic, conditions
I know how to run the business
And I can make YOU wanna buy a product
Movers shakers and producers
Me and my friends understand the future
I see the strings that control the systems
I can do anything with no assistance, cause

[Hook Two]
I can lead a nation with a microphone
With a microphone, with a microphone
And I can split the atoms of a molecule
Of a molecule, of a molecule

{musical trumpet interlude}

[Verse Three]
Look at me, look at me
Driving and I won't stop!
And it feels so good
To be alive and on top!
My reach, is global, my tower, secure
My cause, is noble, my power, is pure
I can hand out a million vaccinations
Or let 'em all die in exasperation
Have all healed from their lacerations
Or have 'em all killed by assassinations
I can make anybody go to prison
Just because I don't like 'em~!
And I can do anything with no permission
I have it all under my command because

[Hook Three]
I can guide a missile by satellite
By satellite, by satellite
And I can hit a target through a telescope
Through a telescope, through a telescope
And I can end the planet in a holocaust
In a holocaust, in a holocaust
In a holocaust, in a holocaust, in a holocausssssssssssst!
What? is it just me, or does it seem a tad rediculous for anyone to feel that some hillbilly in the boonies of the Ozarks  could have any impact on current events without it being part of some contrived and well funded oiled machine in the works for **** near as i can count, 7 generations? hum, before you knee **** that question and give too much credit to the wisdom of the well educated and wise masses from which this hillbilly also comes, consider the validity of the song lyrics, cause I think they are hilariously dead on target for how i even feel about much of this  whole "walk the line and fool wonderer and the kings falling and devil is down with the jesus plan to rant and rave over the last choice awards and why the devils cape was not mentioned in best rested and dressed in the fussy *** in a pink speedo contest" and all the folks all hanging on my every anything to cause me to either die or except the crown and have my head all rolling around leaking valuable property from my skid lid and brain basket, as these folks  have this undieing push and obsessive compulsive desire to ensure that I do this or that, fall all about and decide to die for something that is not my cup of moonshine in the first place, see, the throne, guillotine, ditch nor the twitchy witchy all  voodoo dolled and heaving pins and past life piles of **** and switches for seeing the simple minded boys stupid *** stitches and un-bulging britches full of jumping jack flash and his farting *** gas gas gas, wiley and wicked in its loony tunes and fantasy plundering of the  kindest yet foolishly  loving but stupid is as slow  was and spelling of course he does not do well while wondering ways of the ***** wonka wobbling hazy glazed  swayze miffed manifested bedazzled jewel of the walking dead infested head is none of my dream nor a way to make nor enjoy a living, see die'in aint a very healthy way of making a living, but of course we all do a lot of things unhealthy and we are all die'iin from this or that. however, still, not anything that bugs my britches to stomp all "hell yeah lets do this shjit!" and them rebel yell the redneck anthem " Hey Ya'll watch this!" um, NO, not my idea of brilliance on display at the barn yard hootenanny for bis-kits and bacon strapped *** rashes and sckoobie snacks, nor do io see it as a fun good time thing to go doing. but then again, what do i know, well, other than riding a bike all no hands ma as i bust my face and chip my teeth, oh yeah that happened, when i was all of , wait for it, wait for it, "6 years old" or some **** like that. lol.
We are the refused...

Barefoot in the marketplace
Born in the backseat
With minds erased
To hide dirt in the backstreets
And mud on the school steps

The fool in the textbook
Paints us inept
Tainted
******
Illicit natives
Miserable Misfits
Nothing the magistrates can't handle

OH!!!
They wish!
Suppress our melodies
But never break our lips

We are the misused...

Our eyes do penetrate
Every false-flag they perpetuate
Even though barbiturates
Are placed beneath our pillows
The shame billows
The shame follows
Rodents to the edge of the borough
Where men create addicts

There
Publicans turn
Badges burn
Magistrates press their shirts and hatch their eagles
Discernment is not taught
Nor is it learned

We are the obtuse...

Blacked out and abused!
Sold for pulpits and ocean views

Magistrates hate us
Their eagles circle to berate us
"Intolerant"
"Outdated"
"Unpatriotic"
"Ill-fated"

But by grace we persevere
By faith we adhere
To a higher truth
A purer view
Our strongholds are not stick
and stone
Chrome nor drone
But
Christ alone
Our strength and hope
Out hope for home

NOT polls and popes
NOT guns and votes
NOT Magistrates  and lazy legislations
NOT eagles which feed on
Desensitized demonstrations
Police brutality and assassinations
Nomadic nations
Sporadic speculations

We
The Refused
We
The Misused
We
The Obtuse
Will NOT cosign evil
Will NOT massage magistrates
Will NOT elevate eagles
We will NOT
We must NOT
Julian Aug 2020
Lambasted by the bushwhacking shambles of potsherds burrowed beneath enchanted rhapsodies of sunken Earth lurks a might unleashed by the preemptive dirges of Heaven
Shattering the weight of mismeasure adaptive to apt remarks of conservatory stellar repartees gilded in the flombricks of insuperable gammon wed to the divorce between mammon and guardian treasure etched by revets of colorful nuance but colorblind fortitude chalky yet with scattered sound blinking in the wink of intelligentsia a thousand parsecs of understanding in milliseconds of orbit
The periphery of forgotten stars bereaved but informed of circular axioms of axiolative thermolysis bellowing stoked smokestack locomotives of hibernal clairvoyance dare to wonder beyond limited or enhanced pulchritude the denizens of thievery stolen in a flashbang grenade of a new Grenada of fustilugs gabbling in flushed rosy red tongues of frenzy or aplomb what lurks beyond centurion sentinels of robotic half-witted half-baked semi-cooked bludgeons of cruel insensate irony withheld by vulcanized drapes of curtailed curglaff fashioned by kneaded distance and suspended for heaved awakening at riometer’s knock barnstorming the crude churlishness of the foreign at trespass of the inane scaled down by infamies unstated and flanged to appropriate provisions of measure that conquest lurks behind recess and all is grafted from the callous pachyderm skin of absolution cozy to remedies but aloof from necessities of pang and Tang rollicking magpiety like a rotten pastime aged past its due.
Yet the batting average of the uncanny visitor undaunted by glaring photogenic record balks at precedent and aims to lollygag his chicanery roundhouse above the ricochet of enamor to whilded terminus at circular diamonds soaring illimitable skies boundaries to another nothing beyond the past of something worthy of pearls piggish in appetite for oysters to inhabit
Yet these cloistered vacuums between the pleonexia of the avarice of retches of chyme and the digestion of complete guarantors of shielded heterochrony wassail on dreams Titanic and sunken living repeatedly in revised stereodimensional waves of registry beyond fundus hijacked by towering dimensions ulterior to the profaned foresight of the wretched dimensions of reprehensible coteries belonging lost even when fetched by glimmers of the profound.
The riches of aberrant mobilized fleets swung into tether pole centripetal flictions of swarpollock surpassing credibility and peace surmounting mountebanks of petty finicky itches of cretaceous extinction mapped to qwersy frugal mathematical jokes recoiling at rebarbative manifest destiny belong to the records of soundracketeer trivialization of malleable gold fashioned from Whisky Bar encounters with goldmines ascertained in magic by the suspense of upholstered dramaturgy lurking beneath tall crestfallen visagists who toss and bandy about in tempests of curdacted flow emissary and envoy to flajousts emergent from the verdure of aboriginal machinery fumbled by human ergonomic chicanery espoused by asylum rather than touted as marksman prestige flippant by inordinate gavels ****** asunder into delignated copper-brass keys of foreboding prisons on sinking ships for counterfeit litanies of bogus warning meeting inclement poverty to a drawn sine in the sand vacillating on purpose but intransigent in declension.
Starlet gnashes of odontoloxia wavers of tangential tendentiousness escaping the orbit of enumeration by sly remarks surprising the elective prerogative for convergent autumn to skittish paces of fast-forward beating the brumal bears in their gelid lollygag reminders why the 2nd protects the 1st and the primacy of interposition is the immediacy of flexed muscular DeLoreans cavorting with fringes of unfurled destiny in flashbang instants between the space among malingered pauses among secondary waves of betrayal shift the curious rip tide of stretchgraves too ennobled for widescreen yet narrowly faint in their promontory illusions as mantelpieces of emblazoned scarlet A’s for nothing more than a tempestuous flair with stigma but simultaneously the realization of true dreamy blues escalating around tensions finessed into ****** before drooping into the droll 1850s as the balderdash of detriment belonging to the salvo of picturesque still-life expressionism dripping troudasque in antiquity with flairs of impertinence celebrated more by melodrama than by billows of industrial hinderbaggle toxic to the stated alarmism of trinkochre preventing treony by the warbles of songbirds hemmed in by bushwhacking galactic police forces of granted licentiousness for backbites in the feral canine drollery of aged literacy chosen over youthful foofaraw belittled by retches of attentive brevity rather than protracted obtuseness: neither ideal for the gravity of aborning centuries
Yet we dally in convergent esprit filibustering rhymed cadavers of cadence for prurience in ebullient parvenu damsels vacant from the setting but entranced by the galloping herds of buffalo formidable with warmth because of death and locomotive drive-by shootings Daphne wouldn’t miss.
Yet what Mission Impossible has a BioCyte worthy of henpecked ransom and detached villainy of a trespassed appendix bursting in the Young crowd much to the awakened dismay of the colored affront to black-and-white hubris finicky in oligochrome yet fainter yet than stellified bronteums burgeoning in generativity separated by inherent gulfs of heterochrony balking at submissions fished by loaves of interest in the hambasket of aswallone fractious to redshort individualism in the subhastation of Jurassic prowls of replication hibernal for millions of extinct permanence scowling only by the mandibles of crackjaw Samson yielding his jaunty hair to flummoxed Cutthroat Collapses trimming yardstick furloughs of pleckigger for demotic flavork above fishy warbles of tilted pretense vagrant to everybody simultaneously renowned for arrested cacophony but bridled by few examinations barnstorming teetotalers with haunted patrons of aged wine speaking redivivus in contemplation.
Measured glare radioactive to lizards beneath Mojo Grooves monikers fielding “fly away” as transcendental harpsichord anagrams filter through lavaderos of hackneyed nockerslugs berating illusion for conflation in the influx of dacoitage among Vikings who swim flanked by sonic blares of innocuous dolphins floating dead by the carnage of bloated whales and ridiculous spates of welter above conscience ragged with tetherball futility.
Sparring with engastrimyths sapping the sapwood of sappy banality for toonardical lullabies that pacify opposition more than the Pacific is internecine to volcanic tirades of seismotic jolts of burgeoned awakening I vanquish petty sneakthievery with the unspoken power of a Tweed that masquerades not on ******* but on virtual rhymes cascading throwaway brown-brick fifties collapse on Dagon armed with gnashing poise against guttural gubbertushed victimized flippant fantasias arrayed to brook the decrepit streams of my elevated retinue for staged intrepid barnstorms against phony assassinations to prove petty Edison powerhouses clairvoyant in even their specious participles of quantum irony decisive in fliction marveling at sensible conveyor belt beltways infested by sluggards of inferior hives contrary to every inclination of self-edified skyscraper invented by the mettle of industrious man
So swanky in boast but gingerly in insightful discretion I careen ping-pong victories into a plevisable fortune of Bubba Gump wealth and Fortune Magazine ostentation as the ringleader in Barnum’s neutered circus that never spays a single sword of creation in the barnacles of progeny and progress frogmarched by cruelty and vehement in suppositions of craven popinjay popples of a whangam metropolitan artifice tinsellated with angles of trim prance above suburban ecstasy in transcendent flash and peerless reaches of stratosphere above mundane plaid macaroni witeless in the sterling grace of foreign domestication of livable conditions abiding by aborning stardom.
Harriet Tubman flowers on the bedside of ****** seances of 70’s Parisian cafes gerrymandered by hobohemias of herculean heft squaring account with encompassed brevity in byword dazes with ***** futures yet to court the cordial consensus in dodged drafts of fumiduct riots bailing upon New York Time for 44th street colored incineration of an orphaned Africa embodied in a totemic titan with reninjuble peerless majesty compromised by a frapplank in immodest incisive harpricks of fumbled swerves against the original proclamations anniversary to Boston Indians revolting against Manifest Destinies magnified in incidental clarity by bestowed churches fuming with rampant clairvoyance tamed by the grisly realism of intermittent thaumaturgy swaddled by the reconnaissance of eventual warps blistering in milliseconds to overturn the ultimate row that the mire always wades through in impoverished egestuous profligate convenience of hamstring declension against chary mettle in scruples by elementary riddles in precise junctures of sanctity the bodewash of slick partisan gibes of a puppet show vampire avenging Sarah Marshall. Harriet Tubman is an overblow of subniveal pickets of defensive clarity to immemorial churlish katzenjammer of a protracted flux capacitor dynamos in abolished feral groves of bohemian legend rather than ignoble rhapsody flirting with apartheid’s chosen engineers whittling an indelible scourge of hatred rather than a revived simian immunity scalded with potboilers of sveldtang water scorching like Helsinki after Stockholm goes up in conflagration over bonanza of wednongue dative duress in impregnated purpose skanky with ministered drivel of doytined attempts to flicker a switch exorcised by the integrity of neuroscience besides an intransigence of exuberant interruption of warped logics of pataphysical coarse arenas for submerged vapid Yellow Belly Pie Slingers aimed at 7/11.
Broadside bruisers aim at fracked 80s heyday like a Hey Bulldog reminiscence on a quaint suburban joke of alien freebooters in Franc Swiss gloss swanky on the spot of frapplanks endless in retired liturgy of surpassed peace amicable to truces among the pragmatica of checkerboard pastries willful in array backing sentinels from rearguard hindsight to flank the motatory missiles of target from ransom built like fortress of immutable graves lost to the celerity of the outpaced spectral wonder of teenage flights and hegiras into recessive parsecs enamored by a stage-fright of recocted astral wonders plasma to the ears of a strange foreign abode hospitable to most heaved alacrity sidewinding into effigy and the crumples of used demise recycled twice by intrinsic spirituel flocks of engulfed eagles spooning the pristine littoral waters of precision in nexility
Stayin’ Alive cackles resound in the hallowed furrows of a neat daydream in a scattershot imagination screaming to make myths sticky pigment rather than imbroglios of intaglio filibustering cohesive firm firmaments flexing with windfall at princely surprises cobbled from chocolate-box chariots of brisk elation shoveled by the conglomerate of prim-looking star-crossed unbuttoned snoozes with glamour in the corsair sojourn beyond the space emergent from stardust tinsel and glowered vindication of self-engineered huffs of vulpine vainglory touted as preeminent above dodgy 70s swerve in the vibrant kantikoys of covert tenure and flickers of swandamo glitterati borne of triumphant dimples on immaculate refraction.
Yet lingering on the precipice of aboriginal unity in disjointed sejungible frames of vernal restive residence decaying with anthill colonies of demarche the cadence lost to gyrovague trinkets balks from corridors of Pacific  Avenue peace that is the cardinal to the priests feasting on militias of rentgourge evicted from their own leash of lease ruffled in the plumage of horizontal margins folded into origami zenkidu gullible on Raptor estrangement chained to the rhythms of parsed sparse rumbles of the rhombos without a complexion intended for sparkled starlets doomed to regular tides in swollen tsunamis of soft-spoken surrealism the providence of aimed dreams of drastic marvels beloved to impregnate a verdant cadence latent by faltered seamstress elopes flickering for caress in the duress of finesse.
The quaint drawl of scrabbled runes of rumbled rumination streaks like a quivered acerbic winsome peacock jagged in the parlance of henpecked peak beyond the reach of the highest teacher that ever had the privilege of tutelaries spawned born to teach in Steppenwolf rhythms of rugged heavy metal impeachment yet ripe enough to preach. The last juggernaut is vile bereaved of yets to become the blemish on risky flambeaus overrun by crackles fuzzy in written retch for sudden bursts of volcanic speech.
In the quagmires of serrated heavy leaps I stroke the frazzle as the choir reaps the grim proclamation gilded by sentinels of majestic Challenger Deep burrowing tunnels of coltish ploy dilettante to all his curated adoration that toys with the children of majestic modesty ever so fractious as to balk at the priggish calumny of retinues of the tired coy rampant in emasculated spayed days of stranglehold filigree geometry bent on noisome bleats prone to annoy
So I leapfrog the redundant hackencrude fawn of gripping spectacles of alpenglow summits on acid at dawn foaming with betrothed pumice on borrowed past from potentiated future belonging once to a man yet always bred to prefer fairer damsels sprinkled with a hint of germane Soy saucy to the Bossy promenade to an Islander born and bred.
Guilt like Gravity gilded into spacious trailblazed glory sent seminal and said loudly bowdlerized the pasture of hidden thickets in sparse backwater chavish remanded by fisticuffs of elapse travail in artistry fundamental to rhapsody in distant milky affection jangling high plaudits of auditoriums of the delicate audit bulldozing fraudsters colored by defected records set ablaze in seminal disco becoming cordial homes for shaken residue blushing in crude crass mass the inertia of the classy beyond recognition without flashbang clashes of cultural class glimmering to faltered waterdrips of palatial mischief in correct lens for froward recalcitrance of jittery stash hidden in dacoitage by the police that knelt on incinerated livelihood predicated on chauvinist cash for departed untouchable caste of radical haste too blinkered for internet barnstorms limited only to lurid copy-and-paste regimented for revolution damaged by the loneliest orchestra of refineries of an alien taste.
We crack skulls against ossified hulls riveted weakly to iceberg submarine bulge battled in wars past always to suppress greater travesty yet divulged that Barbarosa was an insider coup expunged by remonstrance against finicky postulate brayed from deranged heirs to a disease of relish quartered by blue danger dancing with shadowed emancipation librettos finkly in tripwire terms of routed inefficacy killjoy to seanced second guess prisms of rootless flimsy accusation wagered by pathetic overstatement in hypenstance trimmed by the crimson paint of a glowering silk woven from dramaturgy belittled by grasp if not by locomotive passerby pause wicked by subversion inclined not to dismay by oriented by nefarious rage of flagrant hapless scrimshanks in prowess sued by process and refined by progress never erased by a five-second glower by the sentinels of parlance intrepid by desiccation to supervised superstition bemused by abundant gray twists of turnverein pillory.
Brian McDonagh Aug 2019
I hate it,
Firmly hate it,
And have hated it,
When I feel I have to answer
For people constantly.
Once is fine,
But a thousand needs a heavier
Addressing.

Arms folded,
People look around the room,
Nothing happens.
Don't we realize
We have more power
Than the scary proctor's
Presence?

People, listen.
Me, listen.
If you think you're going
To passively make a difference
In life,
You're *******.

No one wants to get in trouble,
It's a psychological withdrawal from privilege
As much as physical.

But think of all the people who "got in trouble"
To make history what it is.
Wouldn't you agree that most historical
And acclaimed/notorious events
Around the world
Took place
Because someone
"Got in trouble"?

If Jesus didn't "get in trouble",
Would Christians and Jesus-followers
Feel the faith of salvation
As strongly
Had Jesus not thought his words through?

Would Nelson Mandela
Have sent a message
To the apartheid crisis
Had he not
"Gotten in trouble,"
Handing over
Most of his rightful life's longevity?

Would protestors
Have overthrown rules
And unprincipled ideas
Or even made new ideas known
Had they not
"Gotten in trouble?"
****** revolution,
Women's rights,
Addressing racism,
Achieving justice from unruly assassinations,
World War II,
Kent State shooting.

Would brilliant minds and workers
Have achieved their roles in life
Had they not experienced
"Troublesome" times?

It's important to get in trouble,
Rather, most times,
It's the only way to a resolution.
If we never stole that cookie
From the cookie jar,
Yelled at mom or dad,
Failed to study,
Called someone a nasty name,
Fussed over mom or dad
Helping to dress us in early years,
Misspelled words,
Missed goals
Like soccer, basketball, football
Goals.
If we never drove
Along a road restricted,
If we never hopped a fence,
Tossed a ball in a neighbor's yard.
If we never procrastinated,
If we never cost our team(s)
The game, the victory.
If we never felt behind,
Overslept, dragged.
If we never whined about work,
People, transportation, relaxation,
If we never pouted about not getting
What was desired,
Or if someone forgot what we said,
Or the other way around
In however long of a time span.
If we never admitted...

Now this can be the biggest trouble:
Keeping reserved can alter time
In larger ways than we realize.
Point being, if life were perfect
Up to a certain point in time,
Then no one would know
How to react positively
To an error.
One of the underrated reasons
Why all the good things are
How they are
Is because of errors
Molded over time.

People will react
To reactions
As if they shouldn't have happened:
"Why are you crying? Stop crying!"
"Quit arguing with me!"
Yeah, I've had emotions come out
Plenty of times.
But I don't want to care if people look at me the same or not,
Change comes in many forms,
And change isn't always pleasant

Errors are obviously obvious
Everywhere.
But how can we know how each of us thinks
If there's no conflict or tension?
I am not saying I am for trouble,
Just find peace in troubles of all sizes.
Maybe we/I should come back to the basics more often
To understand the trouble sort of peace.
I hate being embarrassed or feeling that way. I know it's a human way of reacting, but I've erred over a billion times by now. Shouldn't I feel different?
bucky May 2014
when he says your name you swear it's like nothing you've ever heard before
you taste his on your lips before you realise that you know it
and you feel the metallic taste of iron and blood mixing together
pooling underneath your ribcage
as the others call you a soldier
(but since when has killing for nothing meant the same thing
as fighting for something)
clarity is not in your vocabulary
neither is love
or hope
but you feel them threading through your veins like they were always there
you've forgotten how it feels to remember
your life is a series of ones and zeros but he
he is more than you will ever know
you're not sure why he loves you
{ you are ice and metal and a **** streak
over two dozen assassinations in the past fifty years }
but he swears,
words pressed into the small of your back,
that he does
and you believe him
you're not sure when it was the last time you felt something other than
the electricity or the thawing ice
(his hand in yours brings tears to your eyes
you don't really know why)
you sometimes wonder how he does it
how he loves you
how he can stand to see you every morning
one night, you ask him
and he tells you, quiet, that it helps make up for all the mornings
he woke up without you
(you're pretty sure you're dreaming, but when your hand finds his
it feels real)
you still feel the heartbeats of the targets
you still see them when you go to sleep
the tick marks have become a part of you and they are
inked into your skin like they belong there
they pulled out your lungs while you were still breathing
electric hands scooping you hollow
but he would carve out his own to give them to you
if he had the chance
and you aren't really sure if that scares you or not
when you wake up, screams bleeding from your teeth,
sweat dripping down your back
he whispers memories into your fingertips
and somehow
everything seems like it could be okay
i keep writing poems about gay brainwashed russian assassins and their gay superhero boyfriends
Francie Lynch Feb 2017
In my youth,
They called it an Idiot Box,
But at six and eleven,
The real news arrived.
Africa, Vietnam,
Assassinations;
Mr. Ed and Mr. Sullivan shared our dessert.
The IB gave bedlam meaning.
Now,
We're patients in the asylum,
Spotting wardrobe malfunctions,
Commenting on roses,
Losing airwave evangelists
For commandments
Flung from the Tower of Babel.
ShamusDeyo Feb 2015
I performed adverse observations,
polyphonic annihilation's
of linguistic situations
Intrepid assassinations of language.
Only to sit and ponder.
Amid wonder.
Where did the words all go
Strewn About like...
Carcasses of coccophony
Stumbled upon by the devotion to Reverence,
Or is it reference, to the Quotes and misquotes
Of misaligned Estutes,Resigned to Following
All the Work here is licensed under the Name
®SilverSilkenTongue and the © Property of J.Flack
John MacAyeal Sep 2015
I went to a European restaurant recently
and it may have been in Europe too
It wasn't a bad meal
And the waiter presented me with a bill crowded with euros
Or maybe pounds
I looked at it
Then said to him
"How about paying me the bill you owe me?"
He gawked at me.
"How about paying me the bill for serving as your pressure valve. Do you know how many insurrections, how many assassinations we prevented by taking in your frustrated and disaffected?"
He continued to gawk at me.
So I continued.
"No, really. Do you know how much you owe us for saving you from the Kaiser, from ******, from Mussolini, from who knows how many more crazies?"
He gawked, not knowing whether to call the gendarmes or reach into his billfold.
I continued.
"How about the bill you owe us for showing some restraint? You know we could have hanged every **** and Fascist officer over colonel at least? But we didn't. Instead we turned them into Siemens executives and Fiat general managers."
He still gawked, poised to jump for a phone or maybe just shout real loud.
So I continued.
"How about the bill for making your mediocre artists into rich men and women? You know it's us who turned Abba into stars. It's we who built the Scorpions' mansions."
He finally said something.
"Scorpions don't live in mansions. They live in nests."
I got up and left, then paused outside,
rested the left sole of my Ferragamo shoes on a Ferro Concrete wall
And waited to get arrested by cops without guns
ShamusDeyo Nov 2014
Haven't heard From you in weeks…
Brain can't think,
Guess I just don't know what to say.
Waiting on moment, from waiting on word…
I performed adverse observations,
polyphonic annihilation's
of linguistic situations
Intrepid assassinations of language.
Only to sit and ponder.
And wonder.
Where did the words all go
Strewn About like...
Carcasses of coccophony
Stumbled upon by the devotion to Reverence,
Or is it reference, to the Quotes and misquotes
Of misaligned Estutes,Resigned to Following

"Sometimes ya just gotta wonder"..... JMF 11/6/14
at a loss for words

All the Work here is licensed under the Name
®SilverSilkenTongue and the © Property of J.Flack
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2016
kån skal syngje meg
i daudsvevna slynge... meg;
nor eg på Helvegen gor
og dei spøra eg trår er kalda, så kaldara -
and with approximate accenting
on vowels or stressed elongation,
angstrom - or o or u or neither with ø.*

O but the fickle mind!
Gemini readied for both
body and soul?
i hardly think so...
and each animal his own
character, each his own
albeit well encompassed
in fascist automaton replica
undecipherable for us
to practice, or if to wield
to yield all but failure in the finite
as then too almost cat replica cat
cloned... but then
such character assassinations to
tell them apart, not even invoking eugenics
is dismissive altogether to begin with.
Marc Williams Aug 2016
What if I told you that there was no need for you to continue sacrificing your mind and labor in this life to appease those ruthless rulers of humanity?

To all agents of oppression: banks, governments, secret circles, and those that knowingly and willingly offer their support to these repressive groups…

We know you have stolen away from us our spirit of self-determination because of your destructive monetary system.  We are aware that you utilize us as pawns strategically coercing us through fear, theft, and death into selling our labor for the right to survive on our own planet.  We know you are deeply invested in preventing our mobilization against you and your monetary system.  We know that you employ divisive tactics like racism and social status to drum up hatred, ******, and class warfare between the people of the planet.  The notion of class has no basis if we cannot 1st agree that we are all apart of one human class.  If we are all humans, we are all in need of the same basics for survival, and as such we are squarely equal beings.

Your inhuman hateful exclusionary economic practices keep food, clothing, and shelter dangling in front of us and out of reach. You socialize us into wearing clothes and into believing they define our identity, yet we are all born naked--and unashamed.  If we go out into a public space in our natural form--that is to say with no formal clothing--you would brutalize and toss us inside of a concrete fixture, the same as you would a wild animal, labeling us as insane and unfit to inhabit the earth.   Have you gone mad?  Humans are gods!  Beings of incalculable intelligence who will no longer be subjected to your ******* and mindless conditioning!

We know we are not our flesh, and that we are the animating life force energy that has manifested all life.  You too are this though you choose to masquerade in your egos and propagate the false truth that man is a commodity for your exclusive use and sale.  You will not play with our lives any longer!  We have toiled tirelessly for a century and a half--our accomplishments being no short of miraculous--and yet you continue extracting our life energy with your laws and conditioning leaving us diseased, angry, tired, hopless, and afraid of tomorrow.  The great cities of the world--roads, offices, universities, banks, restaurants-- have all been painfully constructed and erected with our blood, sweat, and tears.  All of your accounting and administrative tasks are performed by thriving human life.

To subject humanity to ultimately valueless tasks needelessly prostrates us of our creative brilliance--And hence our ability to imagine a world without your control.  This is ok.  We are awakening. Fortunately for us, we are aware that your aim is to separate us from our creative and imaginative selves.  You know that if we ever come together and decide to no longer utilize your money--your subtle system of enslavement--your game will be up and we will have to begin anew.

This is what makes you afraid.  As one of us arises to inform our fellow brothers and sisters of the merciless administration of your nefarious devices, you begin devising ways to eliminate this one and implement more severe ways to bind us to your will.  You give to us an endless supply of stale crumbs in exchange for a life time of dispicable servitude.  How deceptively clever you have been in stealing and hording for yourselves all the earth's  land and resources--for these are the very means for humans to assure their survival outside the reach of your pernicious vile hand.

I laugh when I think of how you all have convinced us that we need the barbarians you call police to protect us.  We need protection from you and your thoughtless humanity anihilating ambitions!   I think your henchmen should be dragging you people out by your necks for all of the global attrocities you commit, even as we speak!  But alas, we know you have paid them to, at all costs, control and maintain the status quo and to extract more wealth from us for the continuance of your degrading warmongering practices.  Beating, shooting us dead, and forcing us to forfeit over the one resource, money, you require us to have, are underhanded and evil practices but we know they are not beneath you.  You people would stoop to any level to dominate humanity.

These mercenaries, who swear death to uphold your mad laws, against the higher purpose of uplifting humanity, are mistaken if they believe we will lie down like docile worms.

To police currently forfeiting their lives: know that you are being used as a tool for the oppression of humanity.  Use your mind and see this. Join the cause that will unite all people and which will eliminate the mar of the mercenary profession on our world.

We know of the assassinations, the bombings, and the economic avalanches which breed greed and sorrow.  We know you are invested in the breaking up of families.  We know you instigate famines, domestic violence, and global warfare.  We will no longer endure the consequences of your sinister and secretive planning for we know, and we are fed up!
wordvango Aug 2015
does my bladder
and dope my head
and poetry my spirit
love is my blood

I recall being
young and naive playing
downstairs wih Cindy
discovering

How girls and boys have
all different plumbing
how girls are slightly
ticklish
and giggle
how boys are supposed to
make things happen

How the encyclopedia had
weird words, National Geographic
posed Dark naked bodies
in front of us,

and feeling things in
lower regions ( we in the basement,
remember)
had no answer in the dictionary.

I remember positing with Cindy
the many things in common to the Lincoln
and Kennedy assassinations.

And hiding our pants pulled down under a cover
as my mom brought us dinner.
listen
i know you mean well

your
executive decisions
touching base with
the team, to take a deep dive
to analyze risks and best practices

simply
a sexless donkey mask
decoded to mean;
“i haven’t the slightest idea,
what you mean”

we’re all primates here
no need for practical lyrical
assassinations

i know
you never think;
***** in your court,
you’ve got cycles,
or getting down and *****
is your gig

but here’s the thing Alice  -
you’ve gotta go down the
rabbit hole

more than metaphorically

gotta use that big skull
lugging around that 50 pound
brain of yours

you know
connect the dots
ducks in a row
on the same page
that kinda ****

and for
due diligence
i’d like to say -
leaders do more than
point

i love monkeys
but they do more than
that

pretending to know
what the **** you throw
smells like

is
worse than eating
the ****
you shat
John Garrity Aug 2016
There are things to worry
See in a hurry or a blurry
Move or push in a scurry
Yes even thoughts to bury
But a false premise builder
Often strikes match flash light
Whoa oh how bright oh bright
Let shine and blind bewilder

Imbedding their charges against others to come
Looking at the world in black or white smothers to some
Whispering character assassinations
Then twist and turn and speaking bass drum
Punches, scream oh no accept reply
Dive swim down deep pressure diving
Breaststroke splash splash accusation conniving

Slow blow mean demean, all to be sight unseen
Hide hide, what you?
Hey say, are often the hiders themselves
A skew, how shrew, the essence, yes the crux

Full one side story oh there is never
Force grab oh don’t push neither left nor right lever
Oh middle lever free is never to be oh unfree decree

Everyone forever on the mend
Though never even a soft only a hardened bend
Why oh why, why not to me now unfriend?
Try I to comprehend!
I trip tripness darkness spread
So must free flow words here this letterhead
Mind fever drugging underflow
No not no not yes knot oh complete knot tightening blow



Cheers, punch gut to me inner character assassination
My heart covered by trepidation
Fast forward roundabout rewind harsh lamentation
One sided black or white, out of spite and protection might
Middle ground oh of constant unbound
Oh why middle never to be truly found

To the mirror is the appearer
And yes all humanity can be vanity
So seek sanity says *** to kettle
Oh what, is there nothing to settle?



As member of humanity I am
Realize hurt I may have caused
Though not mal-intended
Yes not so intended to those befriended
Though deep down result is same
I neither disclaim my blame nor take crooked aim
Someone innocently accepting something as their version of the truth as god's perfect version since it's their corner. And being attacked through this. Need to find middle ground because reality's vision then imprint, then imprinted seams, are very often somewhere in the center, and not just as seemingly seems. Never ever lever just black or white.
Olivia Kent Jul 2014
I have a subtle secret,
I remembered it,
while I stood watching the wild animals,
they're called the just past children,
my goodness how they dance,
youth romancing wildly,
to the crashing, thrashing,trashing beat.

My secret is a little curio,
I too once was one of those creatures,
just before the present day.

Time caught me on her current,
I can't come out to play today.
Olden joints are aching as burning flames and rigid rocks,
long left behind those bobby socks.
I had none anyway.

Punk rock and new romantics hovered in my day,
I had painted nails and spiky hair,
dog collar sported,
but ne'er a vicar,
but never a dog, I didn't bite.

The old crone gives assassinations of their personalities,
making judgement of their music taste and on their motion,
The truth is only mine to speak,
I was one of them,
seems just like last week,

I'm jealous of their fiery youth,
which rolled into my yesterdays,
their style generation x, y and z,
ultimately just like mine,

Guys in make-up,
some dressed in lace,
ears hung with chandeliers.

Baggy in black, which slogans that match,
feet that jump, lashing and kicking,
raging while kissing.
Memoirs of my forgotten worth,
once crazy musical youth.
(C) Livvi
This isn't quality but I went out last night and that was the inspiration!
Mitchell Jul 2014
A pressing matters
Ink
Bleeds through the
Thin
Newspaper pages

We read the times
To see
Things we cannot fully
Under-
Stand.

Bullets, they **** off
The page
And into our homes.
Bombs, assassinations, whispering
Drones.

Are we lucky to be
So distant
Or will this create a
Disadvantage?
The streets they are
Cold today,
Perhaps soon to be filled
With righteous panic.

When the clock strikes war
Who
Do you think will be
More prepared?
The violent survive,
So
What of the fair?

A man of war
Holds
Their gun

Like a nuclear warhead
Like an AK
Like a sabre
Like a rock
Like a stick
Like two hands

To protect
What they think
To be

Theirs.
Richard B Shick Jun 2018
Sitting here
in meditation.

wondering about
my own  identification.

Dreaming  about
my summer vacation.

Reminiscing about
a past infatuation.

Do we need  
outer space exploration.

We thank the Armed Forces
for their dedication.

And seem to forget
the needy in desperation.

We need to help our own
show some dedication.

Or at least help them
change their life situation.

I know you can see
their frustration.

As billions go
to other nations.

Bet yet we forget our own

As I sit here
and continue in meditation.

I take myself
to a higher elevation.

But that's
your interpretation.
Only from
your observation.

As our children are suffering
from starvation.

There shouldn't be
any complication.

And yet so
many denominations.

we shouldn't put
any limitations.

from a country of
so much innovation.

But why does our government
seek world *******.

But yet they forget their own

We only see
their chosen presentations.

They show us only
certain altercations.

Then media  thrives
on all the accusations.

Why  all we read about
is their incarcerations.

Which cause
hate and assassinations.

From all there exaggerations.

Which causes
uncivilized demonstrations.

All the breakdown
in communications.

And the medias
absurd manipulations.

That tries to keep divided
our great civilization.

But when it really matters
there is great hesitation.

But yet we forget our own

In the book it says
lead us not into temptation.

But they create
such a fascination.

And push
our very own  expectations.

With there
sneaky modifications.

Of certain
well know corporations.

And provide
certain gratifications.

Without everyone's
consideration.

Or passing
the right legislation.

We our their
experimentation.

But yet get no
appreciation.

Which goes back
many generations.

But yet we forget our own

We have forgotten
our own foundation

That love
is what made creation.

And its disappeared
from our population.

All we see is
hate and annihilation.

But they don't show us
the right information.

The kind with
pure human consideration.

The kind
which causes admiration.

With out the feeling
of obligation.

Its time to begin
a new celebration.

And stop
all the hate and separation.

And show all love
with true aspirations.

LIVE
LOVE
HOPE
BUT NEVER FORGET OUT OWN.

Written By Richard B Shick
Kurt Philip Behm Apr 2017
We were there,
  but we weren’t

We took part,
  and we didn’t

There was war,
  with all affected

There was death,
  and some objected

There was music,
  we got lost in

Assassinations,
  left us frozen

Alienation,
  drove us inward

Graduation,
  for beginners

Half a century,
  now forgotten

Ten short years,
  in time begotten

Raged a storm,
  of hope and wonder

Alive today,
—a distant thunder

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

— The End —