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"bureaucracy" poems
Rebel Against Rebellion I have nothing to prove No creeds, no doctrine to upkeep We all have so much freedom when we close our eyes And just think Maybe you need to humble yourself enough To lose Rebel Against Rebellion Because they're all just books Your sword is looking pretty dull sir Why are you so inclined to hurt? Thought your prophet preached LOVE? So repeat words Choose what you choose Choose wisely Because soon the snake will stop his hissing Constrict And become your noose Rebel Against Rebellion I think I'll call your bluff I bleed, I sin, I'll die But I'm not feeling hot standing here So tell me again why I should be afraid Of my fleet mortal life? Rebel Against Rebellion Because a Sheppard leads a flock But you never followed Your a goat Caught in your lies Bureaucracy, Democracy Man it's all a joke A silly excuse Rules, the sacrum of man's brain Your doctrine is becoming lame And your beliefs more insane Coliseum A game to play to make you so entertained Please write another rule Prove once again The medium you choose is jewels You fool Rebel Against Rebellion Why would I cut my brother short? Because of appearance and all your silly rules So many when uttered I choke For all we know life itself a joke Oh the irony What began as unity Became bowing down To man's hierarchy So I Rebel Against Rebellion I'm a servant of no man I know God has a plan That over cries your silly fear Unravels your vines Your words Agenda and "Time"
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Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 3:00 AM UTC
Rebel Against Rebellion
Society has good intentions Bureaucracy is like a friend 5 years ago - other furies other losses - America's trying to control the uncontrollable Forest fires, Vice The essential smile In the essential sleep Of the children Of the essential mind I'm all thru playing the American Now I'm going to live a good quiet life The world should be built for foot walkers Oily rivers Of spiney Nevady I am Jake Cake Rake Write like Blake The horse is not pleased Sight of his gorgeous finery in the dust Its silken nostrils did disgust Cats arent kind Kiddies anent sweet April in Nevada - Investigating Dismal Cheyenne Where the war parties In fields of straw Aimed over oxen At Indian Chiefs In wild headdress Pouring thru the gap In Wyoming plain To make the settlers Eat more dust than dust was eaten In the States From East at Seacoast Where wagons made up To dreadful Plains Of clazer vup Saltry settlers Anxious to ********** The Mongol Sea (I'm too tired in Cheyenne - No sleep in 4 nights now, & 2 to go)
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9.1k
Bus East
No country’s history makes us proud. It is mere exploitation and colonization. the poor were suppressed and oppressed. The rich reveled in utmost luxury And the weak lived in extreme penury. The kings were fond of eulogy And the poets excelled themselves in their elegy. In the countries like India, the money was looted the temples were plundered, and the system was blundered And her progress was greatly hindered Slowly the kings and kingdoms vanished the so called democracies and socialism flourished the bureaucracy and plutocracy replaced autocracy Corruption and criminality maintained their status quo After Independence, a new class emerged in India. They became the rulers in the name of democracy. There have been un-imaginable scandals Money reached the Swiss bank like pearls in the ocean India is a poor country but the Indians are rich
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Mar 10, 2011
Mar 10, 2011 at 3:59 AM UTC
BUREAUCRACY VERSUS AUTOCRACY
DEMOCRACY-PLUTOCRACY-BUREAUCRACY OUR DESIRE TO HAVE A DEMOCRACY HAS VEERED TOWARD A FETID PLUTOCRACY AND I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE THINKIN' IT'S THE MONEY THAT'S STINKIN' IN THE POCKETS OF OUR "ELECTED" BUREAUCRACY
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Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 4:36 PM UTC
DEMOCRACY-PLUTOCRACY-BUREAUCRACY
I don’t really like to play the victim, But I'm being failed by this system 7 hours, a hostage to cinder block rooms With nothing to do but let myself be groomed Into someone's labor source If I don’t have money, I cannot live But nobody seems to have a thought to give To my Life being turned into a commodity Something to be owned, taxed, a luxury   That sometimes I’m not able to afford. So much stock is put into democracy But we don’t matter to bureaucracy Unless we use the paychecks earned From the Liberties we burned To fill their empty promises They call us ungrateful and lazy For recognizing that this life is crazy And resenting all the thought and time Spent in the Pursuit of a rich man’s dime Instead of our own Happiness
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Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 6:53 PM UTC
Unalienable
Inception Transcribed  (Spoken Word- Freestyle-Dramatics) ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ==Inception Transcribed == by SassyJ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ (Copy the link below to your browser) Inception and intersection of human life are diverse. We are ushered as a blank canvas to the shores of life. Socialised with values, beliefs and cultures. Our acclimatised acculturation. Submerged in the swampy lowlands each sunk and wandering through and through. This morning I woke and left my house...... looked up to the horizons of nature. And there it was.... a revolving camera smiling at each stride I take... following me and taunting me. Unreserved in institutions, submerged in the ever decaying social structures. Why do we do what we do everyday? Is it part of the human processes and functions? To exist and be absolutely absent but present. I fret, then I smile. Trying to join the puzzles in the mazes. Ever questioning if I am here to learn or to be polluted by bureaucracy. Lets call for an assembly, announce that the town is dead. Yet, its people are gasping, breathing to fill their lives with a new paradigm. Look at me all cyanosed , the blueness of the dying veins... sunk in the redistribution and social panic. Re-engaged in the demoralised democracy. Look at me asking.... What is the meaning of life?
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Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 6:09 PM UTC
Inception Transcribed (Spoken Word- Freestyle-Dramatics)
They’re recruiting me MI6 And the CIA Land sakes alive Dual citizenship No hindrance to me Helps to have a major in Slavic languages And an Oxford degree How they latched on to me I don’t really know That Dad worked at Arlington might have put them in the know Interesting life choices being offered Investment banking has its rewards That’s on the table I’m inclined to VC I could have a capital time Avoid DC and endless bureaucracy See the world It’s nice to be wanted I feel like the girl everyone wants to dance with I’m still at the prom I’ll ask my parents I know they’ll have thoughts
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Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 10:55 AM UTC
Job Offers
all these european charities are insulting africa; i've been to kenya (yeah, talked with one bartender about the import of timber from ghana), i've seen a fat person, a fat woman to be exact: all these charities are killing pensioners by harassing them to give money... all the money invested in charity companies goes for bureaucracy, these western charities are insulting african nations... they have a civilisation you know... i'd rather **** on a ten quid banknote and eat it than give it to those vultures.
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Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 11:04 AM UTC
western charities
*to further my point, as an eager reader in a catholic school, reading about the gnostic heretics, wondering with my theology tutor upon the question asked: don't you think the gnostic heretics influenced mohammad on the sly? i mean, they too believed a phantom walked among men, and a phantom was crucified?* my confirmation didn't take place in a cathedral, as was due course for all of us in being schooled, by a bishop in brentwood cathedral, i opted out... my confirmation came in a russian orthodox cathedral, in st. petersburg, when i watched people standing for a scrap of iconoclasm, with the priest mumbling toward a golden altar, as typical in the tradition, buttocks towards the people or as in the western tradition reciting in latin, before the nationalists came and spoke the gospel in each designated tongue so people understood, a bit like having your back turned against the people - speaking in latin - and when i sat i the church to listen to the choir singing, some lesser ecclesiastical prompted me to stand up, and pay respect to the golden altar... he told me to stand up! what cheek... what barbarism... only in russia... i had to stop being bewildered by the beauty of song and listen to a priest knock-down-ginger on a palette of gold... THEN i was confirmed... donkey's ******** to this **** i'm leaving! mind the fact that i've seen the greatest degradation of mysticism take place... the tetragrammaton was being defiled all along... in catholic bureaucracy it has been there all along, the idiots reminded me of it... you're born: first name, baptismal name, surname... you're educated: confirmation name... that takes four spaces of consideration... so by catholic definition of sharpening pencils, folding pieces of paper, filing the folded pieces of paper, bending paper-clips i'm god... but only in writing... first name, baptismal name, confirmation name, surname... a bit like a clone... a clone indeed in writing... same d.n.a., same bone mandibles of the jaw... but experience-wise... un-original to the **** not even a clone... not able to experience major historical figures... a soul in a twin body by itself... a twin without twinning, segregated by ulterior if not auxiliary motives... clone on paper... clone by experience? i don't think so... impossible... too many inter-actants along the way can't possibly replicate thinking in a clone... different mr. john smith... NEXT!
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Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 2:18 AM UTC
"confirmation" of a "catholic" in a russian orthodox church
*to further my point, as an eager reader in a catholic school, reading about the gnostic heretics, wondering with my theology tutor upon the question asked: don't you think the gnostic heretics influenced mohammad on the sly? i mean, they too believed a phantom walked among men, and a phantom was crucified?* my confirmation didn't take place in a cathedral, as was due course for all of us in being schooled, by a bishop in brentwood cathedral, i opted out... my confirmation came in a russian orthodox cathedral, in st. petersburg, when i watched people standing for a scrap of iconoclasm, with the priest mumbling toward a golden altar, as typical in the tradition, buttocks towards the people or as in the western tradition reciting in latin, before the nationalists came and spoke the gospel in each designated tongue so people understood, a bit like having your back turned against the people - speaking in latin - and when i sat i the church to listen to the choir singing, some lesser ecclesiastical prompted me to stand up, and pay respect to the golden altar... he told me to stand up! what cheek... what barbarism... only in russia... i had to stop being bewildered by the beauty of song and listen to a priest knock-down-ginger on a palette of gold... THEN i was confirmed... donkey's ******** to this **** i'm leaving! mind the fact that i've seen the greatest degradation of mysticism take place... the tetragrammaton was being defiled all along... in catholic bureaucracy it has been there all along, the idiots reminded me of it... you're born: first name, baptismal name, surname... you're educated: confirmation name... that takes four spaces of consideration... so by catholic definition of sharpening pencils, folding pieces of paper, filing the folded pieces of paper, bending paper-clips i'm god... but only in writing... first name, baptismal name, confirmation name, surname... a bit like a clone... a clone indeed in writing... same d.n.a., same bone mandibles of the jaw... but experience-wise... un-original to the **** not even a clone... not able to experience major historical figures... a soul in a twin body by itself... a twin without twinning, segregated by ulterior if not auxiliary motives... clone on paper... clone by experience? i don't think so... impossible... too many inter-actants along the way can't possibly replicate thinking in a clone... different mr. john smith... NEXT!
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60
seven days until the full switch unfollowed by many a basic ***** the forty-second day of bureaucracy make everyone a pope in your theocracy when you find nothing here to which you can relate revere in the more extreme state disseminate mate let's build each other's relevancy let's outshine complacency pay attention to current world history
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Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 9:00 AM UTC
extremism
The staff, who are stuffed full of paper, stapled, on white, are to be circulated with minutes, full of minutiae, but only the chosen staff will receive such chaff, intricate, in triplicate, and the others will have to wait for memoranda, definitely not grander, on subjection, objection and rejection for the weary and unwary. The brochure on staff conduct will be grosser, and superannuation won't be super. There will be no more staff resolutions, no revolutions, so that managers can preserve the status quo and hasten slow. Talent is banned, promotion is underhand, ass-kissing is in, no sin, and perks, no jerks, are for the executive few. ***** you.
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Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 12:10 AM UTC
Bureaucracy Blues
Justice loves injustice Doctor loves disease Foreman loves damages Livelihood for the sages. I cry for justice bold ,sold In deaf ear for years old. Justice or my lawyer ,unjust Put off hearing , file in dust. Democracy or Bureaucracy Suffocate in ugly Autocracy. Political labour; unions cruel Compel the subjects crawl. Equality , freedom, justice Sweet for poster slogans Pay and use roads lead us Pitiably to the island Mess Of Fuss , hiss; kiss of miss As frogs spring over Bliss.
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Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 10:29 PM UTC
Justice?
I know this foreign method      made my throbbing veins its home 'cuz the familiar's not familiar      and I'm not fine           lest I'm messed up on wine.      And 9/10 of all the times I've tried to crack a smile since I lost you have turned out as half-assed lies. I wander streets, worn out, while I wonder where you are and what you're thinking about while      you drive down Henderson...           I'll try to dry out           from time to time         but fall back into bouts        internal I'm interred in        eternally--and I'll never win them.        I'll. Never. Win them. Not without...           Sorry... I meander through months while      you walk through my mind --and I'm glad if you're happy?--      but you were quite angry     with me that night I took      and torched our collection      of 5 years' shared memories           QUITE ANGRY              with me.     And the things you said were mean           but you meant them. And you were right About how wrong I was how bad I am, and how I taste like lemon lies on the tongue.      You were right.      And I'm drunk. And sad and sorry and selfish and stupid and absorbed by a salted skyline of cold, purple steel           every night. It ***** You teach kids for a living, about the age of 9. Me? I try to dry out now and then, time to time, but it's hard. And you're far. And I'd still come if I could,      but it's hard      following this heart      when it's buried      at the confluence      of the Red and Assiniboine           Rivers. Beneath The Forks... And that heart? Like the ground above it,      it's covered with ****** commercial architecture and the clothing of bureaucracy,      but ****       we had fun there. Didn't we...?
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Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 1:47 PM UTC
The Forks
I know this foreign method      made my throbbing veins its home 'cuz the familiar's not familiar      and I'm not fine           lest I'm messed up on wine.      And 9/10 of all the times I've tried to crack a smile since I lost you have turned out as half-assed lies. I wander streets, worn out, while I wonder where you are and what you're thinking about while      you drive down Henderson...           I'll try to dry out           from time to time         but fall back into bouts        internal I'm interred in        eternally--and I'll never win them.        I'll. Never. Win them. Not without...           Sorry... I meander through months while      you walk through my mind --and I'm glad if you're happy?--      but you were quite angry     with me that night I took      and torched our collection      of 5 years' shared memories           QUITE ANGRY              with me.     And the things you said were mean           but you meant them. And you were right About how wrong I was how bad I am, and how I taste like lemon lies on the tongue.      You were right.      And I'm drunk. And sad and sorry and selfish and stupid and absorbed by a salted skyline of cold, purple steel           every night. It ***** You teach kids for a living, about the age of 9. Me? I try to dry out now and then, time to time, but it's hard. And you're far. And I'd still come if I could,      but it's hard      following this heart      when it's buried      at the confluence      of the Red and Assiniboine           Rivers. Beneath The Forks... And that heart? Like the ground above it,      it's covered with ****** commercial architecture and the clothing of bureaucracy,      but ****       we had fun there. Didn't we...?
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67
I’d like to ask for a moment of your time, To talk about an unsolved global crime. I’m not talking about climate change or recession, Or ongoing Middle Eastern political aggression. This is the story of every indebted African nation, One hundred million children without basic education. A continent that hopes to one day be free Of vast debts, crime and bureaucracy. I am the child soldier of Sierra Leone, Orphaned, abused, angry and alone. Patrolling the streets at twelve years old, Carrying a rifle I can barely hold. Brothers and sisters taken at night, Forced into slave labour or vanish outright. We are the children of Sudan’s indignation, Thrown into ditches, dying of starvation. Waiting for a vaccine that will never come, Helplessly to death I slowly succumb. Every five seconds, an African child dies. How can a life mean so little?
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Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 5:42 PM UTC
Children of the World
reoccurring fascism boiling over in my head led by not only the bureaucracy to which we sacrifice our god given rights to but by the oppressing society that force feeds us elated lies funneling us into specific life paths but I did not ask to be born into a fascist society ruled by a democracy, which is more of a soft spoken dictatorship. So excuse me if I would rather practice my own beliefs, instead of shoving money up my *** crack while i sit behind a desk for the majority of my life. Not to mention the 18+ years of a mandatory education that only taught me how to pass a state standarized test put together by the same ******* idiots who are too brainwashed by the generations before them to realize that the state is their new God- but refuse to believe that America, the land of the free, is a theocracy. Instead of involving myself in that obvious grueling cycle I think I would rather separate myself from the state, society, and the false belief of legal freedom that was drilled into all of our heads (I do not need a government to tell me I am free, just by them saying that expresses that I am only free merely because they let me be.) I am free because I am human
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May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 9:21 AM UTC
********
it will just end up being a tale of a drunk looking into a metre as if it was a kaleidoscope mile in an l.s.d. fuelled centimetre seance, conjuring the dead, esp. sergei with his kijé, and thinking about turning the zoo inside out, with the birds as fish in the great aerorium of the missing stars to cook up a fluster with broken beaks nudging achilles to kneel using his heels. i mean i’d cage those parrots to seal their colour into stamps and dutiful ink of borrowed bureaucracy, but i’d stink of oysters doing so and very little else. so why did they decide upon petting fish in an aquarium and said that birds were simply caged chickens easing out an omelette? if i was keeping goldfish in aquariums i’d be keeping budgies in aeroriums. don’t tell me, the glass eases the process for disney's talking blue fish? no wonder, a caged animal is reminiscent of a caged man, but put man behind glass and there's little chance of a narcissist conjured; hence the necessity of slicing iron of the ribcage innuendo within the framework of a niqab to peer through on that whitewashed backdrop some call a canvased sigh of beginning.
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Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 9:00 AM UTC
aeroriums
"Don't work with the Americans." "Don't help the Americans." This is what some of the Afghan interpreters are saying After their poor treatment by the United States government The Afghan Interpreters are angry And they have a right to be After most U.S. troops have left Some are stuck hiding in Kabul The Taliban tell the local people That they are infidels The Taliban **** many interpreters The Afghan Interpreters struggle Only about 30% get their visa Some only have enough money To make it to Greece They live together Barely any money No hot water Persecuted by the local police One interpreter saved the life of an American soldier The soldier helped him put together his visa packet His visa took three years!!! This interpreter had fought with them for 7 years Had saved the lives of five American soldiers Had been the personal interpreter for 12 U.S. senators One interpreter Did not leave on a flight approved by the U.S. He had to leave on the next flight Because the Taliban  was threatening to **** him Thankfully the U.S. soldier Had a place for him to stay And could give him some money The soldier promised him He would help him get resettlement benefits Even though the U.S. government stated He was not eligible to receive his benefits Because he did not arrive on a U.S. approved flight The Vice Interviewer Learns from the lawyers working for the interpreters That there is a massive bureaucracy The Department of Defense doesn't consider them veterans The soldier tried to get a bill introduced That would streamline the process And increases the number of visas To help the Afghan Interpreters No legislation regarding immigration was introduced Because of bickering among Republican members The program ran out in September of 2014 So now thousands will be stuck in Afghanistan One interpreter that was interviewed Was stuck in Afghanistan Working as a taxi driver Fearing for his life Many of the Taliban prisoners Have been released Now he fears for his life He doesn't know what will happen 6,000 applicants For 280 available visas As of July 2014 May God bless the Afghan interpreter Trying to live his life in peace May God bless the Afghan people It seems things never change for them
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Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 12:51 PM UTC
Afghan Interpreters
"Don't work with the Americans." "Don't help the Americans." This is what some of the Afghan interpreters are saying After their poor treatment by the United States government The Afghan Interpreters are angry And they have a right to be After most U.S. troops have left Some are stuck hiding in Kabul The Taliban tell the local people That they are infidels The Taliban **** many interpreters The Afghan Interpreters struggle Only about 30% get their visa Some only have enough money To make it to Greece They live together Barely any money No hot water Persecuted by the local police One interpreter saved the life of an American soldier The soldier helped him put together his visa packet His visa took three years!!! This interpreter had fought with them for 7 years Had saved the lives of five American soldiers Had been the personal interpreter for 12 U.S. senators One interpreter Did not leave on a flight approved by the U.S. He had to leave on the next flight Because the Taliban  was threatening to **** him Thankfully the U.S. soldier Had a place for him to stay And could give him some money The soldier promised him He would help him get resettlement benefits Even though the U.S. government stated He was not eligible to receive his benefits Because he did not arrive on a U.S. approved flight The Vice Interviewer Learns from the lawyers working for the interpreters That there is a massive bureaucracy The Department of Defense doesn't consider them veterans The soldier tried to get a bill introduced That would streamline the process And increases the number of visas To help the Afghan Interpreters No legislation regarding immigration was introduced Because of bickering among Republican members The program ran out in September of 2014 So now thousands will be stuck in Afghanistan One interpreter that was interviewed Was stuck in Afghanistan Working as a taxi driver Fearing for his life Many of the Taliban prisoners Have been released Now he fears for his life He doesn't know what will happen 6,000 applicants For 280 available visas As of July 2014 May God bless the Afghan interpreter Trying to live his life in peace May God bless the Afghan people It seems things never change for them
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64
I shouldn’t really be writing this naïve drivel. I have no idea at all of the hardships these desperate people go through. I wanted to imagine how it must feel though to finally find yourself in front of an uncaring bureaucracy. Obviously I, a secure white Englishman, whose history goes back hundreds of years in this my home country, am far too safe to understand. My pen came up with this. I hope it doesn’t offend anyone. The hopelessness… Invalidated… It was such an ugly word So many tall letters It looked faintly absurd. But the word simply robbed him Of chances he had Struggles to get here So brutal, so bad. Beaten, raped and robbed He’d slipped out of Mogadishu His parents both dead now He was there sole issue. He paid all his money For a hopeless sea trek And got washed up on shore Now the boat was a wreck. It was filled to the gunwales With people like he Many were lost As the boat wrecked at sea. But he never gave up He just fought all the way And now six months later He arrived at this day. The bureaucrat before him Had a large black word stamp He was clutching it so hard He surely had cramp. And then there it was That strange looking word That made him an alien Akin to a **** So all of the struggles And all of the pain Now left him deflated It had all been in vain. How desperate he’d journeyed To leave behind war What now! Invalidated! His future unsure! ©Joe Wilson – The hopelessness…2015
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Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 7:05 AM UTC
The hopelessness...
Chaotic systems Disabled stems Controlled streams Dash in seams Work ain't progress It's a misused regress Full of regrets The greatest dissolution No vision, just revisions The mission of bureaucracy Hypocrisy and autocratic casts Top cats bumper weighty bonuses Outclassed in beer bellies Slashed in pompous waistcoats *What a waste on the coast? **I am not afraid to tell you, "I ain't a ******* robot"** I am not a machine of production and rotations **I am not afraid to tell you, "Go **** your ***** Give me time to be creative, innovative and autonomous Chaotic systems Disabled stems Controlled streams Dash in seams Be an example, model the sample Let the leader lead the leaders Let the leader be the servant An active weaver of the basket To hold with the strongest straws In rows and crows, clinging to all A negotiator of the common people A facilitator in times of conflict Let the worker be dedicated Passionate, triumphant and trial-led But the case is, all are in it for the money I am not afraid to tell capitalists, "Give workers their rights" **I am not a ******* charity mate! Share the faked matte!** **I am not afraid to tell you, "Stick it up on your *** Give me time to be creative, innovative and autonomous
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Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 4:16 AM UTC
Work Systems are ****
sun and moon stand side-by-side in the great starless sky of this Monday Sunday Tuesday workweek with ambulance stoplight caution I leap from crevice to crack of the ***** cement walkways that tear across snowy fields staring at the world around me - faces as solemn unreserved apathetic mirrors of nothing in their corresponding souls pair them off in dialogues of the triumphs of the fabled GPA - its ********** growling dripping fangs embedded in their minds since sloppy second-hand birth and I cry out and I cry alone for these are the summers winters springs falls etc and so on of my discontent for I am a man among gods gods of capitalism and communism  and social disorder and bureaucracy gods of music and poetry and written spoken words and fashionability and the only false evidence of such godly aspirations remain on my body as fading bitemarks on my wrists from when once I tried so valiantly to tear my technicolor blood from these incontinent arms but even in such times as those there was no salvation but for yellow-staining death sticks clutched between shaking fingers and melting shots fired down raw fleshy throat in rapid secession the gods I hold so dear have left me for whatever come what may in these places of my mind filled with words and thoughts and images of your everything thrashing against nothing
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Feb 21, 2010
Feb 21, 2010 at 11:44 AM UTC
Winter Solstice
We all go around the day, We are all on our way, Some are to work, Some are to school, We are all part of a bigger picture; I’m just a fragment, And you are so too, Our lives are together, A part of the matter; We have been taught, Alone we are worthless, We have been moulded, To fit into the system, But this is no way, To reach our full potential; This is a prison, Guarded by bureaucracy, And funded by those in power, We gave up our freedom, For a little bit of money;
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Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 8:22 AM UTC
Fragments
i found two things bewildering, alzheimer's attacks the pronoun category, and other forms of it too, but modern psychiatry having abolished asylums for a humane revision of its practice has become a branch of medicine that over-prescribes nouns, and by such over-prescription invents noun jargon, it cut open an ancient greek word, used the prefix (overly) and added a suffix (sufficiently) to make no sense whatsoever, it prescribes neonouns like it prescribes pills that don't work... or if working then in a negative way... anti-psychotics can make you **** yourself in your bed when sleeping, i've been drinking for some time, and my bladder is arnold schwarzenegger, when i used to be on anti-psychotics for no adequate reason (living in a post-colonial society does that to you, you can come from lithuania or poland and be treated like a would-be coloniser to extract the fastest sprinters for a new country, without the "doctors" treating you adequately), so as i said: alzheimer's attacks the pronouns, the iron core of the earth that's an individual thus dislodging all the adequate orientations of categorisations of words... like psychiatry abuses the noun category: schizoid, schizo-affective, plain dumb schizophrenic... bi-polar, uni-polar, plain dumb depressed... psychiatry has long established a monopoly on nouns... i just use their terminology to excavate a new grammatical categorisation of words, from poetry, among nouns adjectives pronouns and conjunctions... you'll find psychiatry nicely suited and booted as a word categorisation: metaphor: all psychiatric diagnostics should be categorised as metaphorical... 'cos they name it... but have no idea as to how to behave behind it: it's not like they say cancer and you're expected to die... you're expected to live in their terminology of treating you for a ******* pay-cheque: you won't even commit a crime, but they'll treat you like a criminal... so long suckers... i mean western europeans, i rather live in (as the americans say) i-raq... and shoot a bunch of you protected by what i see as the final solution you thought was once church v. state... how about segregating democracy (the church) from bureaucracy (the state)... but of course the two are mutually dependent.
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Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 7:19 PM UTC
democracy (the church) / bureaucracy (the state)
i found two things bewildering, alzheimer's attacks the pronoun category, and other forms of it too, but modern psychiatry having abolished asylums for a humane revision of its practice has become a branch of medicine that over-prescribes nouns, and by such over-prescription invents noun jargon, it cut open an ancient greek word, used the prefix (overly) and added a suffix (sufficiently) to make no sense whatsoever, it prescribes neonouns like it prescribes pills that don't work... or if working then in a negative way... anti-psychotics can make you **** yourself in your bed when sleeping, i've been drinking for some time, and my bladder is arnold schwarzenegger, when i used to be on anti-psychotics for no adequate reason (living in a post-colonial society does that to you, you can come from lithuania or poland and be treated like a would-be coloniser to extract the fastest sprinters for a new country, without the "doctors" treating you adequately), so as i said: alzheimer's attacks the pronouns, the iron core of the earth that's an individual thus dislodging all the adequate orientations of categorisations of words... like psychiatry abuses the noun category: schizoid, schizo-affective, plain dumb schizophrenic... bi-polar, uni-polar, plain dumb depressed... psychiatry has long established a monopoly on nouns... i just use their terminology to excavate a new grammatical categorisation of words, from poetry, among nouns adjectives pronouns and conjunctions... you'll find psychiatry nicely suited and booted as a word categorisation: metaphor: all psychiatric diagnostics should be categorised as metaphorical... 'cos they name it... but have no idea as to how to behave behind it: it's not like they say cancer and you're expected to die... you're expected to live in their terminology of treating you for a ******* pay-cheque: you won't even commit a crime, but they'll treat you like a criminal... so long suckers... i mean western europeans, i rather live in (as the americans say) i-raq... and shoot a bunch of you protected by what i see as the final solution you thought was once church v. state... how about segregating democracy (the church) from bureaucracy (the state)... but of course the two are mutually dependent.
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