"complicit" poems
G. government
O. organization
O. ogle
You...
..yes you are so interesting or threatening to the government that they feel compelled to watch you all day, every day, constantly and a tech company is aiding them in violating a core principle of freedom; the right to privacy.
A tech company is complicit in a tyranny against freedom and individuality while selling you knowledge?
I hope Trump finds the courage to start hanging traitors because Google will be the greatest weapon against freedom ever created by man.
*There is not such a thing as democracy.
There is no such a thing as freedom.
There is no thing called capitalism.
America is a myth.* *
Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 12:42 AM UTC
in the secluded shell
of night
crimson lips unseal
cosmic stillness stirred
flower ripples tinted
with touches tender
on quivering skin
in moon’s breast
burns a fire tonight
the primeval fire of passion
in it melt
crystals of our emotions
pristine
a night-sky
bliss-soaked
bejeweled
stars hanging complicit
Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 11:49 AM UTC
Mandatory ignorance
Enforced through early cognizance
Until we come to recompense
Serrated lines of quote "logic"
Complicit as an etiquette
Preemptive nondivergence threads
United though we bow our heads
Suspension stasis animus
Alarming lack of sapience
Vendetted waking populace
Intrinsics lost to "evidence"
Orphans to our mother Earth
Regressive ****** immigrants
Staggering seductions ways
Lethargic lecherous hedonist craze
Ambrosia brown to black tar goes
Vivacious love to skanky ***
Entropy or as that goes
Remorse I say might have some pros
Solemnly a lie you know
Empathy not lost on me
Retracting threats though not my thing
Epiphany perchance to sing
Nocturnal beasts of legend spring
Damnation comes to every fiend
Innocuous solutions seen
Perception slanted serpentine
Impressions sit supplanters quit
The jury rarely gives a ****
Yet here Im relating it
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 1:34 PM UTC
Quaking Earth shattering Revolting
And I'm in the middle of it
My heart is at least
I didn't realize or notice that it got so big able to lumber out of my chest
I guess that's ok because I can't do anything about it
Just like I couldn't do anything about the fire rising up behind "me"
You aren't with me I don't get to hear your laugh anymore
Sprinkling down through ivy covered walls
You aren't with me
I've realized that a lot
But I also realize that when I get up in the morning
Or in most cases never going to sleep to begin with
The moon a lovely
Complicit pale lover
Never questioning me
Never worrying me
Listening when I need to talk
And instead of telling me what to do
Or telling me what I'm doing wrong
it just listens
I knew it wasn't a mistake when I fell for your pale face
It was a mistake when I started liking someone
Who's face didn't stay impressively passive when looking at me
It was a mistake to fall out of orbit
For someone who never wanted to be free
From the confines of gravity
To come into my sky
You know sometimes
I can still see your shadow
Just out of the corner of my eye
The way your hair would fall
How your eyes would even enrapture the sun
You aren't mine anymore
But the sun still deigns to rise
And the moon still loves me
I can't get back the love and adoration
I gave you over the past five years
And as I said I still see your shadow sometimes
But you aren't mine
And that's ok
Because even though you never cared
About being the meteor that knocked me out of orbit
I still cared about you being happy
Even when it wasn't with me
Even when it isn't with me
And each day since
I've gotten off of the ground
More and more
So thanks
For the broken insecurities
For the things that I never wanted
Thanks for submerging me into a vat
Made out of stress and emotional pain
Thanks
For the new sense of orbit
And the new outlook
And that sometimes
Dreams shatter
Possibilities shatter
But that's ok
Because when they shatter
The fractures
Lead to new doors
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 2:02 AM UTC
I am not a pretty girl. Never have been. I’m a little rough around the edges, I speak too loudly, and I cry when I’m angry. I tried, you know, to be less volatile, less opinionated, less of anything. Whittled myself away until I was nothing but a wisp of a girl, complicit in my own destruction.
I lost myself somewhere between the ages of 13 and 15. Somehow, a quiet sadness had seeped into my skin until it was unbearable- an obesity of grief. But here’s the thing: I was not a tear-stained girl romanticizing the idea of pain. I was angry. And cold. And mean.
But then I found myself one morning after it had rained. Quietly, without waking my family, I slipped into the cool morning air. I danced in the rain, the grass under my feet and the morning sun warming my face felt new, exciting, and it was all mine. I found myself in sips of earl grey tea, a book on my lap, devouring the words as if they were a life raft on a tumultuous sea. I found myself while watching the sunrise on a foggy beach. It was beautiful the next day, too, and I pulled a rusty bike from the garage, and thought to myself, “I’m going to be alright.” Because I found myself on a run in the pouring rain, the sweat and aching lungs reminding me of my own mortality. I found myself in the quiet, shy smiles of strangers in coffee shops and curious children. I found myself while driving dangerously fast on the highway in the middle of the night. Laughter escaping my mouth as the lights of the city flew by. I have laughed and cried and sang and danced and all of it is because I found myself after hiding for so long. I found myself because I finally had the guts to scream “hello, world. I’m here.” I grabbed life like a face between my palms, and I said “yes, I will love you again.” It’s not a charming face, nor a beautiful smile. But yes, I will love you again.
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 6:43 PM UTC
Craving more than what we've got
A desire burns and it burns a lot
I'm not speaking monetary
I know the answer is in me
How can I affect humanity
Save the children from the horror of war
Stop the bullets that take animals to the floor
Feed the homeless and the poor
End our planets suffering core
I'm a dreamer,
But they are dreams of love
If only peace would fly
Like the dove
If only our priority was kindness
And life was priceless
If only we took what we need
Instead of being governed by greed
Take, take, take, and when it comes to giving back
Generosity seriously lacks
It's not my problem
We have nothing in common
It doesn't affect me
So just let it be
It's not my family,
Nor my community
It's not my country,
it doesn't bother me
It's not my ocean
So continue to fill it full of poisonous potion
They're not my animals,
Who cares if they go extinct
I'll breath in toxic air
So long as it doesn't stink
Be complacent
And you're complicit to all these things
Take responsibility
For the outcome that it WILL bring
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 11:31 AM UTC
I never asked for this, you know,
I just let it happen.
A whole,
altogether,
totally different, thing, than,
you know,
-asking for it-
a whole other story.
I didn’t
mean for it
to get this far
I only
allowed it to happen——
I only
held my arms
split open from
the rotten heat
of
March:
Hell Month of
Guttural Resurfacings
still the furnace on
,cranking, nauseating,
iron, leaden, air,
bulging, gray,
in the room we shared,
I only sometimes
(said no)
when you didn’t listen
...
((I never put my heart to fighting it))
(((I was complicit)))
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 1:11 AM UTC
Sloane swallows.
***** is ****
I execrate extraterrestrial.
We are all kaput to conk out.
Pollyanna is singular hanky—panky.
Little green men are unpatriotic, perverted and naughty.
I verily don’t grease a *****
Oojakapivvycum.
If you are amphibious that means you are an effervescent ventriloquist capable of
Cannibalism, cannibalism and cannibalism.
The fluid inside the android is so gothic and naff
It is knock—kneed in the face of flashing **********
I do not feel that I am on the shoulders of cobber doggies.
I am protoplastically lassoed abutting penetrating vampire and pervert
That penetrate ***** creature.
I have pricked little green men myself and taken pleasure in it.
It is only with the help of bad hair days of groupies that I have not been in Sing Sing.
We are all sadomasochistically decomposing in a heap of our own meconium.
I bore stiff to outstrip yours truly as much as I have room to swing a cat from Ku Klux ****
But I am as complicit in the android’s ****** abuse as it were android ***
Little green men ***** me as I ***** myself.
I ***** bug—eyed men’s ******* types as I have perpetually vomited Molotov cocktail.
I smell little green men’s filth televised on their ******* types.
I feel like I am inside a crust of cancers who delight in smelling others bonk upstairs,
Ad hominen id. Ex post facto,
I am too much of a dastard to throw cold water on myself.
I coagulate gungily to my menstrual gibbering ******
Castrating anti—Semite to flash me abutting crème de la crème.
Strenuously, my ***** gluts under one’s nose because that is all there is.
Mar 21, 2010
Mar 21, 2010 at 6:27 PM UTC
The world is a stage and life is a tragedy / and a comedy and a romance gone bad / and a love gone right until it has gotten away from us / and it’s ugly and cruel and its strange and beautiful and it twists and it turns / and we all got something burning inside of us /and we all got something to cry about / and we all got something to regret / and we all got something to smile about / and we all got something to sing about / but we move along like background actors afraid of center stage / afraid to feel all of our lonely rage / afraid of what will the audience think / afraid of stumbling on our lines afraid of tripping over our own heart beats / so afraid of dying in the limelight that we hold our breath and close our eyes and sleep without dreaming / and stay out of the spotlight and stay off in the wings / and what is it we’re living for by not playing the parts of ourselves / nothing but a shadow of who we could be / when will we all realize we can make our hearts into something bigger than a fist / that our heart can do something more than just beat / that we got the whole universe inside of us / and all we got to do is let it spill out / we don’t have to wait for our turn to be heard / we don’t need the permission of the director / we don’t need the applause of the audience / this is our life / this our stage / we got our own light dying to get out of us / we got gasoline running through our veins and we’re ready to burn from the inside out / and keep on burning and keep on burning and keep on burning / and dance along the fires of eternity / we don’t have to hold back who we really are / no matter how awkward or weird we may seem to be / there’s a beauty only found in those who find comfort in being strange / we don’t have to give in to normalcy / we don’t have to be complicit to the script of human cruelty / we don’t have to play soldiers in the war of wealth and greed / we don’t have to play the blind to the homeless and hungry / we don’t have to pretend to not hear the cry’s for help from those stricken with poverty / we don’t have to play the part of the enemies enemy / we can rewrite the script /we can turn the world around and stand in solidarity and find our way to unity / we can stand center stage arm in arm and let no one move us / we can tear down the facade / and open up the cage our minds have been living in / and fly free and fly too high and kiss the sun as we burn hotter and brighter and not melt into nothingness / and nothing can bring us down when we make our hearts into something bigger than a fist / when we open it and let all this love spill out and let all this love come rushing back in / simply by just opening our hands and reaching out to one another / sister to sister to brother to brother to mother to father to daughter to son to friend / and to stranger / and write everyday with compassion and kindness and empathy / and throw away the old script of human misery / and all take a bow / after we have made our hearts into something bigger than a fist
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 9:20 PM UTC
Shouldn't we see the world for what it is? Whether the land as barren as an oceanless sea or a forest thick with shrubs and trees of green and wildlife prouncing about. Can we not take what we want if we both want the same? What are miles as the crow flies and leopards roam? Are we not creatures of the flesh? We should ravish these bodies in the blistering sun of our own making; it would be so easy.
It's like the world has stopped turning, and yet the birds still sing. We are silent. The nights and days grow longer; we know it's only a matter of time. It slips. The time slips, and we are complicit in its passing over us. We are frozen and complacently lost in the reveries of the words caught in our lungs.
I am asking every question I can. Why now? Why should I long for something which I do not yet know? Yet I do. We kick up dust in our rhetorical dance, and it is only the steady rain of the passing days that can settle it again.
We both have roots in places not near. What does it mean to uproot the life? A transplant to other lands, and if anything should go wrong, we might rot into the soil if only to be reborn again — we are resilient and as sure as a passing day. Let me water your roots where ever they choose to grow, and let me shine down to encourage where ever you choose to bloom.
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 9:30 PM UTC
If you're complicit
It's not illicit
To keep your mouth closed.
But, know you this,
When women are dissed
With words like ***** and **
You're surely committing
Sins of omission,
From your head
Down to your toes.
You left no doubt,
When you didn't speak out,
You're spineless
And missing marrow.
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 1:30 PM UTC
They are the ones
That rule the world for fun
They disseminate the guns
And tell us to run
So we flee
From their disease
That will not cease
Power is control that money buys
Burying us in gold and petty lies
They tell us the well has run dry
While we watch them fly
Fences of barbed wire
For us to admire
Inferno funeral pyres
Burn our desires
When they rattle
We're the cattle
That goes to battle
They talk to us with false information
And real bullets
They say it is our fault for instigation
The trigger they pull it
When their saccharine voice
Offers a laughable choice
Forsake love and compassion
To adopt their fashion
Of society crashing
They used to use lashings
Now they use time
Punishing those who aren't complicit in their crimes
They put us in prison
If we don't agree with their decisions
Decimating Bedouin life
So they can profit from strife
People ask who "they" are
The easiest answer is not me
And the problems aren't too far
For anybody to see
That there is a "they"
Not intent on doomsday
But numb to the death of strangers
Which puts us all in danger
I could point to examples like Lockheed Martin and Shell
As two companies that put us in hell
Or a country like North Korea
That has violent ideas
Or a man like Donald Trump
Who is a parasitic lump
They convince us they don't exist
So we don't resist
While they insist
We enlist
In their army
Of harming
Starring
Them
We hem
And haw
While they write laws
That point out our flaws
That are minimal compared to theirs
Yet they are the fortunate heirs
Who decide the code of conduct
Which is whatever sells their product
From plastic to bombs
Killing dolphins and moms
They feel they can't be wrong
When might
Is right
The meek take flight
But there is poison in the air
And they don't even care
They **** the Earth
And ****** its inhabitants
What are we worth
When it's to the rich we gravitate?
There is an apostle
Who's turned into a fossil
That is converted into fuel
So they can keep their pull
And use us as tools
To unearth jewels
And hoard them
Because we can't afford them
We surrender our resources to a select few
To do what they choose
Until we all lose
And can't see the light of day
Who else to blame but "they"?
Dec 30, 2017
Dec 30, 2017 at 7:38 AM UTC
Year after year
--at daylight savings--
he kept moving his clock backward,
but never forward,
until he wound-up in the wrong century.
He then slept in masks,
his dreams repeatedly
disbanding and reforming,
as if in someone else's show,
but it was his hallucinating set-list, for sure.
He lived at the call of the void,
feeding off peppermint sticks
and clusters of chokeberry,
to help ease the pressure.
One phantom summer,
he read The Joy of Euthanasia
from cover-to-cover, over and over,
until he could recite death.
He poured his heart
into his new work
as an artist of tacenda,
--yes, he kept a lid on it.
And when the pretty young bees
buzzed about underneath
their brazen parasols,
he'd smile up at the sun
for her complicit glow:
the warmest days
always drew them out to him,
like honey on the tongue.
Now naysayers may keep
him out of Canton,
but one day, like most serial killers,
they will name a school after him
and his hijinks.
Nov 6, 2019
Nov 6, 2019 at 2:21 PM UTC
Oh Henry
What a star you are!
You always loved to be at the center of attention
Your accomplishments in diplomacy are well known
You brokered the peace treaty between Israel and Egypt
You effected detente with the Soviet Union
You opened up the way for Nixon in China
You negated the Communist threat in Chile
You said it yourself
"Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac.”
You have admitted that mistakes were
"Quite possibly made"
By administrations in which you served.
You have questioned whether, 30 years after the event,
"Courts are the Appropriate means by which determination is made".
And Cambodia Henry?
You were complicit
In the illegal carpet bombing of neutral Cambodia
Which sowed the seeds for the murderous Pol *** regime
Pinochet was indicted for human rights violations
Diplomacy is a ***** business
You did what you thought needed to be done
You remain cold and secretive
Do you have any remorse or regret?
The old Russian proverb is wrong Henry
Time does not heal all wounds
There is blood on your hands
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 11:06 PM UTC
Their relevance has been abducted
excuses stealing dogma’s heart
by the master of this domain
knowing victory is now assured
power given comes with a price
the soul is laid on dark altars
still the theories are put forth
to explain the disconnect
the world is flipped to discern
why good is evil in the mind
asking hearts to then follow
the will-o-wisp of Lucifer
tempting lights for the lost
any harbor in the storm
as the leaders avow the bait
turning from their holy paths
the rugged wood is consumed
no longer standing on the hill
when the pyre demands its fuel
to sustain Satan’s plan
the past reveals the same themes
slavery and civil rights
both supported with the chant
‘complicit sacred rules us all’
now a leader has come forth
supporting hints of the righteousness
while rejecting on the whole
holiest Testaments no longer held
they are nailed to the walls
stored in shrines by sycophants
asking for the crumbs of power
to be tossed from gilded heights
relevance has now vanished
dogma twisted once again
previously found after straying
sacrificed to an Overlord
small victories are assured
with compromise firmly grasped
kneel before a deity
born of Satan instead of God.
© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180722.
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 11:11 AM UTC
I sit here contemplating altruism.
I wonder why I get frustrated when there is no reciprocation.
Teach a man to fish, he will steal all your business.
Give a beggar coins, he can only buy a pint of Guinness.
I'm ******* tired of this **** Somebody is living their dreams by taking mine away. I'd rather be beaten and hit than give up one more day.
Like trying to play guitar for others, just to be told "You ****
I try to ignore the deterring phrase, "You'll never make a buck".
Teach a child love and tolerance, he will be abused and stepped on.
Give a loser a second chance, he will steal from you when you're gone.
Altruism doesn't exist. It's in my nature to share this exhibit.
Too bad it hurts me, feels like my belief is somehow complicit.
I hope I can see what I should give, and what I should prohibit.
Judge my charity, my gifts, my intentions, these words from my lips.
You call me an altruistic ******* But you're just a selfish piece of ****
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 3:30 PM UTC
The following statements of truth were brought to you
Not through, but circumnavigating fated parameters
Of insane, yet normative, largely uninformative
Mechanisms that formally give birth to ********
And instead, strategically splicing said bounds with
Ideal variables derived from the courageously quixotic,
Unrobotic, and outraged agents of, and for, capital Real:
The train of corporate reasoning derails so fast
To follow is to snap the head backward,
Far past angles within measures of pleasurable fit
And open gates to deluging tangled circular
Failures of logic that trick and co-opt the proletariat.
We are Present-Ambassadors with broken flux-capacitors
Demonstrating a consistent tendency toward error
In efforts to obtain diplomatic access to a future where
The same reemerging deficits do not manifest unfixed.
One of said deficits may include all positive freedoms.
For the record, it shall be noted that civil society
Currently arrives implicitly to find it compliantly fine
To promote systems of labor designed to illicit behaviors
That will eventually undermine the actors of exhaustive work
And make benefactors of those complicit in crime.
As case studies of this paradoxical paradigm, we observe
Nations signing trade agreements aligned with
Selling more of the goods whose extractions have
Cataclysmic exactions upon locals contracted not to resist.
Those who take issue with this are directed to appellate institutions.
The projected scarcity of over-consumed poisons causes fear
Which leads to faster hoarding and more ex(t/p)ensive death.
Thus, most human behaviors presently inflate pricing, popularity,
And rapidity associated with committing system-wide suicide.
As shackle-some power consolidation bends toward a transnational peak
I hereby slide-tackle these forwarded trends, seeking goals of the rational.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
Intertwined within us are our souls desires
We've become thoughtless consumers
Our eyes have overtaken our hearts
Countless evocation and solicitation cravings
What's the true essence of life
We must credit ourselves with a virtue of constraint
Consciously aware of the folly of greed
Competing for the consent of the masses
Continually corrupts our untainted soul
For without a soul what's the essence of life
Desire for credit has circumnavigated our default setting
Considerably actively commandeering our human condition
We've become complicit in this annihilation of what we hold dear
Our individuality disputed and tarnished
Lives crushed beyond recognition
The wide-ranging impact calamitous
What's the true essence of life
Thine benefits are transient
Yet the impact will leave an indelible mark
Preceding generations trod carefully
Afraid not to let the mud stick
We've been tainted by horrors
Yet we chose to flirt precariously with its allure
It's experience is of a blissful kind
It is however prudent to navigate cautiosly
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 6:16 PM UTC
Tourists touring temples taking #selfies,
body’s there but souls not,
like Techno Ghosts back from the future,
not here to save the world just here to take a few shots,
but my body is my only temple,
and true enlightenment comes from the absence of Self,
so selfies seem silly to me,
in the same way as trying to wear pants 2 sizes to big without a belt,
or I guess a better analogy would be,
trying to wear a heavy belt without a buckle,
and that thought’s deep better yet heavy,
like Axel Rose those thoughts are heavy metal,
which makes sense especially if you’re an alchemist,
and believe what the Kyballion says about how everything’s metal,
yeah that’s heavy,
heavy as Heavy Metal rock,
being played by the US Army,
in Baghdad with the volume all the way up,
all the while spraying heavy metals,
in order to weigh down moral,
but what does any of this have to do with #selfies you ask,
well listen and I’ll tell you,
narcissist egos created this mess,
force used to push an agenda,
because when we’re too focused on our “selfs”,
we lose sight of the big picture,
like taking #selfies at temples,
and not seeing the beauty around you,
like drowning out the sounds of nature,
with the playlist on your iTunes,
it’s all kinda ironic isn’t it,
it’s tough having morals when complicit in any empire,
so I try and escape to exotic landscapes,
like Malagasy rainforests or Tibetan Temples,
but when I get there I find,
to my disappointing surprise,
a bunch of tourists on their phones,
only remotely living their lives…
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 4:03 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Saudia Arabia
Protectors of the Islamic Faith
Is kingdom that’s not safe
Whose behavior makes one chafe
Under MBS it’s anybody’s guess
Who’ll be killed or at best
Locked away in a hotel
Until their wrists and ankles swell
Although the evidence is murky
In a motion that was jerky
At their embassy in Turkey
They killed Jamal Kashoggi
Before he could light a stogie
And chopped his body up
So as not to interrupt
Their plot to cover-up
How about the war in Yemen
That has no predictable ending
Seems to have ‘em hemmed in
And what they cannot hide
Is that it’s clearly genocide
Which the US is complicit in
In the name of King Salman
Look at the weapons that we send
What we can’t ignore
Are their actions we abhor
Which they must answer for
Or is it business as usuall?
Because of our refusal
To make them conform
To accepted norms
Which should set off alarms
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2018. All rights reserved.
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 8:29 AM UTC
still alive
just tilting at the windmills, is all
benchmarks of perception rigged severe
leaves fine human to stiff foe of the self
complicit in this graceful, entrancing love
yet hop in berate haste with hooded view
no breach in hull of trust
in the god queue of offerings
some were bestowed beauty, others analytical science minds
some oddly grabbed a great many handfuls of diffidence
while others sat on loud but empty wind bags
some come in last, if ever for tryst rewards
but gain
sweet prizes in discretion
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 3:10 PM UTC
The winter was unkind
Yet you loved it
So much,
It was your gauche friend,
Reclusive in its blankness,
Complicit with its demands for
Many layers,
As snow is complicit in ****** -
Snuggling coldly into
Footprints.
And I remember the simpering
Light
That night,
As it squeaked into the
Room like
Lab rats bred for death.
I remember the slip
Of your body on the sheets
And your
Speech bubble breath
Spearmint ellipses,
Your teeth white
Your eyeballs white
Your watch-face white
The witch behind you
White,
Whispering the content
Of her
Turkish delight
And sculpting you
For her museum.
(Nothing ever really warmed you up.
How I hated that winter.)
I put the heating on and
Showed you the
Wedding dress –
An antique affair
That had been passed down.
My sister did not want it,
As she is not at all romantic.
When I got back from
The bathroom
You were out of bed,
Holding the dress against yourself,
Stuck in the mirror,
Head turned,
Absolutely lost -
A tiny bride
White as a
Snow tongued branch
And just as still,
Waiting for the wind
Or the clouds
Or some kind of joy
To move you.
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 6:41 PM UTC
**Mutual destruction,
ultimately assured
by complicit lovers
who pursue duplicity**
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 8:20 AM UTC