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I’ve been hearin a lot of bad mouthin about socialism ever since the president tried to provide affordable healthcare to the working poor… I also hear some carping when someone suggested that the minimum wage paid to workers should allow them to buy the necessities of life… I don't hear too much bad things about medicare and social security…. I guess thats not really socialism…. I don't hear too much about the big bailouts of the bankers with government money after they put us in a recession… privatized gain and socialized risk must also be a strain of a special kind of entitlement...

We’ll I think this whole socialism business needs some clarity about what its all about…. so I made a list of socialist heroes so my fellow American’s can get a better feel for what going on with this red menace...

Heres a list of socialist heroes….

Jesus Christ of Nazareth...I just can't get past the Beatitudes thing. Since all the po folks of the earth get to inherit all the good stuff when they pass on.... I figure heaven gotta be some kinda socialist paradise....Some don’t buy the idea that Jesus is building a Mar-A-Largo estate for Donald Trump... while having the rest of us live in our cramped apartments…. Jesus did say he’s building many rooms but the po folks get first dibs on everything… For all the doubting Thomas’s and Thomasina’s get Sean Hannity’s fastidious fact checkers to read the good news in the Gospel of Matthew.

Jack London... To think he’s been spreading the Red Menace in the mind of America’s innocent children for near a century now…. When Michelle Bachmann finds out about this she'll introduce a bill to change the title of The Call of the Wild to the Call of the Commies... I don't think it will affect Sarahcuda because she don’t read at a sixth grade level yet. Alaska is safe for now....And all comrade citizens are doing just fine thank you.... spending their annual royalty checks they get from the state for all the North ***** oil drilling...  Hell during Sarah's half term governorship... she did what every self respecting socialist despot would do... she paid out a special $1,200.00 Permanent Fund royalty dividend to all comrade "North to the Future" citizens.....

Carl Sandburg... The People Yes? Sang the songs of the People Yes! Celebrated a broad shouldered, hog butchering America who wrote a biography with love and affection for our country’s greatest Republican President....  Whats that about?...And his treatment of Billy Sunday...a back in the day,.. aw shucks,... from the backwoods holler... Kenneth Copeland like... Believer's Voice of Victory preacher of his day... who hurled fire and brimstone at cowering congregants so when he passed the plate they filled it up with hoards of heavenly manna to fatten his bank account overstuffed with moth eaten earthly treasure… I'm sure even Pat Robertson believes Sandburg’s soul lies beyond the sweet redemption of Jesus...

George Orwell… Unlike **** Cheney... who said he had better things to do when his country called on him to serve during the Vietnam War... Orwell’s fervor for democracy was so great he left his native land to lay his life on the line to fight against the fascist menace in Spain... When he got into a battle he came across an enemy combatant taking a ****. He later said, “I let him go. How do you shoot a guy with his pants down?”... A deep respect for the humanity of others is clear evidence of a socialist's fatal flaw and why the righteous laissez faire American’s hate it so....Unfortunately Orwell and his comrades lost this one to Franco and his sugar daddies Il Duce and Mein Fuhrer… but we’ll keep up the good fight…..

Dorothy Day… This saint of the proletariat kept the soup kettle brewin to feed the working poor during the Great Depression... She spent her own money to build shelters to house catholic workers and didn't make a **** dime off the vulnerability of their screaming want... A squandered opportunity maybe…. definitely a coocoo loon according to the weltentstehung of Ayn Rand… so popular around these parts these days...but Dorothy laid up some serious dosh in heaven for her labors here on earth…. for where your treasure is…. there you will find your heart also… Anyone who knew her said Dorothy's heart was always in the right place….

Albert Einstein…. this guy was no dope….he knew enough to make make moral distinctions of exploitation and greed… and the self condemnation of conspicuous consumption...the destructive capacity of unfettered power….and worked hard to figure out equations to end the wastefulness of war... he did teach at Princeton though… more proof of the red infestation of the universities…. greed is good…. knowledge is bad….

Eugene V. Debs…. went to prison for his beliefs… got a million votes from jail… thats how devious these reds are.... even from prison they run for president and fool the working people into participating in the democratic process…. he believed everyone should vote… and would probably be imprisoned today for violating all the laws being passed that take voting rights away… gotta watch the reds…. next thing you know they'll close the electoral college and force politicians to pay a 100% poll tax on all the money they take from their corporate sponsors….

WEB DuBois… the souls of an oppressed people is the soul of a nation...ain’t it written that a nation is judged on how it treats its most vulnerable?.... Mr. DuBois fought to bring justice to all those lacking the means and rights in a nation teeming with diverse groups with needs and wants… it ain’t just about afro american jazz… its about the blues sung by all people on the outside looking in… he believed it unjust that only a small portion of American’s held the keys to the doors of prosperity… everyone should have a key to unlock the doors of opportunity… everyone…. that includes workers, immigrants, women, gay folks, religious minorities, disabled and the poor and lots other people I haven’t thought of yet…. but what about the real Americans...whose gonna stand up for them??????????

Woody Guthrie…. this country belongs to us… next time a frackin jacker comes to tear up your land and dump poison in your well… next time a strung out strip miner wants to plow away the top of your mountain and dump arsenic in your river…. next time a GMO attorney says the crops you planted don’t belong to you because they are contractually patented to him…. next time a big oil company says that they got a right to pollute the oceans and **** the fish so they can pump out a passel of fossil fuel… next time a bankster comes knocking at the door to take your house away… next time a tea slappin Teabagger starts screaming that the Koch Brothers should be allowed to own the national parks so they can cut the trees down for firewood…. tell em...you heard it on good authority…. that this land is your land…. not theirs….. if thats socialism…. I’m liken it….

American Socialists

Woody Guthrie: This Land is Your Land

Oakland
10/21/13
jbm
Malachi Filius Sep 2012
We are all apart of one system
yet there are many components to this system
innumerable actually
all following the same laws
as if contractually

bound by one set of rules
but
with infinite variation
like nations of expression separated by vibration
only contained by the systems within
that perceive and react
to the system
they sustain

one giant metaphor

a sufficient example
is the human body
a complex interaction
of
individual organisms
all communicating, interacting and participating
in sustaining the body

an organism
of organisms

Even our organs have organs,
working together to sustain
a system larger than itself

cells
communicating, producing
regulating, exchanging
are themselves composed of
organisms, performing
all these functions

we must not
forget
the system
which we sustain

the order
we provide
for the larger body and mind

together
we compose the cells of this planet
interacting and communicating
with each other and all other life
a subtle dance
that carries impressive consequences

except

the way in which we act
as organisms
is likened to cancer
in which
a once productive cell
behaves individually
not in accordance with the system it sustains
replicating uncontrollably
wasting unnecessarily
not taking the whole into consideration

although
if the planetary cancer of humanity
replicates  
itself to extinction
all will still be well
as it always has been
and
always will be
yet
the system
in which we exist
would lose
the chance to witness and experience
the transformation from cancer
to great negative immunity
through the powers
of the newly recognized
human organism

a system sustained
ChawzzyScript Mar 2013
Doc, I've been trying to deal with these issues for quite sometime to no avail;
A good friend of mine (you may know him, Elmer Fudd) recommended you.

I fear I will never be able to eat, let alone catch this turbo inspired example of flightless foul;
Stuck in this celluloid world vividly inspired by an Emmy award winning colorist.

I am a proud animal from generations of fine breeding, born in the pristine coyote valley;
I am not stupid, not a fool or buffoon, and so I thought contractually, not one to be laughed at.

And I, always the bad guy, constantly daunted in pursuit by haphazard ACME products;
Expensive, bulky, time consuming, they characteristically fail right before they almost work.

Rocket powered skates, unfortunately, only allow me to kiss the cliff-side really really hard;
Very heavy anvils serve no other purpose than to be dropped on my head repeatedly.

The incredulous manipulations of the impossible by the so clever writers of this farce;
From trains appearing out of nowhere to run me over, to fierce lightning storms in an instant.

Laying there in the release of my own bowels as the uncontrollable result of
500 Megajoules of energy traveling through my body yet again.

I am the twice electrified mass of dribbling spastic protoplasm
Personified proverbially in that lightning does indeed strike twice in the same place!

As the smoke arises from my chard hairy frame and I sweep up my ashes to reassemble later;
I realize Doc, I'm losing my grasp on the reality of ever succeeding, I need your help!

I'm still hungry;

And still I have not caught that **** Road Runner,

******* Warner Brothers!

-----ChawzzyScript
Bailey May 2016
“Remembering’s dangerous. I find the past such a worrying, anxious place. 'The Past Tense,' I suppose you’d call it. Memory’s so treacherous. One moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights, with poignant childhood aromas, the flashing neon of puberty, all that sentimental candy-floss… the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go. Somewhere dark and cold, filled with the damp ambiguous shapes of things you’d hoped were forgotten. Memories can be vile, repulsive little brutes. Like children I suppose. But can we live without them? Memories are what our reason is based upon. If we can’t face them, we deny reason itself! Although, why not? We aren’t contractually tied down to rationality! There is no sanity clause! So when you find yourself locked onto an unpleasant train of thought, heading for the places in your past where the screaming is unbearable, remember there’s always madness. Madness is the emergency exit… you can just step outside, and close the door on all those dreadful things that happened. You can lock them away… forever.”

- The Joker
Material objects tempt you
To leave your mildewy rags in the rearview
I know who can help you, he'll be here soon
Meaning he's arriving you just gotta sign this
Contractually obligating your silence
It's not science
Even a blind ***** would find this
Excitin'
See he's taken an interest in ya thighs
and how ya roll ya eyes like you know it all
But trust me when the dough's involved no ya don't

Your just tossing out them bills
Throwing em out like it gives you a thrill
Gives me chills, when the heats shut off
Coughing and coughing, I'm getting sick
Waiting on that ****, lickity split
Pass it around, I'm losing it
This ******* piling higher, I'm getting higher
Jumping out the window like that **** on fire
Waiting on a refund for all the time spent
No dimes or dollars even make a dent
Remorseful, with a side of content

Wait up ***** aint they raisin your rent
You need a sugar daddy not a diabetic
Let him take away your woes with a couple franklins
Getcha takin off clothes at his banks expense
Sayin that you bad, need a spankin then
And since you want attention this is what you get
Hard **** and love are two different things
but watch me blur the lines like the drink you sip
I've never been good with relationships  
And I lie tryna hide I'm fake as ****
But come to the bedroom
Got money and head room just so we dont drown when the blankets wet
Afterwards you smoke get your makeup fixed
Ask about bank while I take a ****
Throw you twenty to make complaining quit
Do i smell like money, honey?
Take a whiff

I smell something, it aint no money
You wanna play?
Imma need more than some stacks
and some grass to want yo ***
This aint no game of tic tac toe
Three in a row aint gonna beat my woes
You're reaping what you sow
Can't just throw out them bills no mo
It's rich, but you're not
You thought you had what you bought
But I walked, watch your wallet
Cause it can't cash your *******
This aint a relationship
Save it, I aint falling for ****
You aint having it your way
But I'm lovin it
Robert Peck Aug 2013
The world is darker than it’s ever been and deeper than my life is anything but fair skin a nation divided by one thing that ties to another thing that ties to another and that one thing is what ties me to a dear friend that I call my brother

This hue I was cursed with I mean this shade I was born with I mean this tone that I was blessed with, Sometimes I’m even confused myself on what kind of gift this tinted skin is for me

I know we come from Kings whose land is rich in gold and other imperial things

But if I may be so bold or brave to say that even now white people still know how to make my people feel as if they are still enslaved

We’re stuck in a hole a certain way of living , a certain way of thinking “the mission of life is to get money the fast way even if it is the ski mask way" only thinking about the right now willing to predict the next 5 years of your life to fill what’s not in your pockets all cause you gotta get the money gotta get the money gotta get the money gotta get the money gotta get the money but you end up with no money plus ain’t nothing funny when your days ain’t sunny and your little sonny is born and you are still reaping the benefits from making your piece of change

Even if it’s not in our heads some white people never changed their minds about the way they feel about this skin tone of mine

I am Trayvon … one night I was riding my bike with a handful of my friends moving from spot to spot as we followed our plans and we had a personal escort that followed us for about a mile but he didn’t say hi or stop to ask for directions it just seems like they get off or get an ******* from putting blacks back in the chains we were once in

I am Django … young black dude no chains bro contractually assassinating to get all that I live for and showing the my community that there is a better way to live

The night is dark but in due time it will change we need to mentally put down these chains and make way toward the North Star especially in the midst of the rain, But it’s hard to believe pleasure in a life full of pain
Butch Decatoria Jun 2018
Mulling about
The muck
The haunts we are hardbound
Foggy fetal leavings by the sea
Right before the light;
The days of purple haze
Of sallow street cars, street lamp,  amped up
Yet dampened loss of desire
Pop another oxy-hydro-fire.

To be able
To muck about
With inner abandon
the abandonments deep
Numb battlements   / "Hoorah!"
Semper Fi the pain
Only significant
With derivatives
From ******* plantations
Opioid addiction’s contractually binding
Lingering love notes
A vice grip on idle minds

So many now that prey
But with a side affect of
Try holding in your ****
for three-plus days

So as not to feel
Not at all
Not even the rage
We keep anxiously pacing
Clawing at
Nonexistent strings
A Beast inside our cage
Forgiven by preacher men
Proclaiming to hallelujah
Change

At war with illusionist
Freedom
The boys fight for still
A country of patriotic pill poppers
Believing in heavenly kingdoms'
Healing
Secret silent pleading
Because nothing takes away
The pain
Like Hydro Oxy foxy pills

Self medicate down wind of will
If unaffected "consult your physician"
He’s at the edge of the stage
A Spearmint rhino making it rain
For Peaches
From patient list of his *******
The business of lust
Is feeding the loss of will
If you still feel lost -- and war sure did
Give them nothing but
PTSD & bad dreams
Machine gun migraines
Pop another pill
Jagged little killer
Softly knocks you off your feet
Black is cheaper
Smoke out not to feel

The muck-about days of
Constipated pains
Reader Digesting heavily,
Numbingly unreal.

Casualty of a nameless waste
That’s his deal / what it's like :
Most fecund
A life on the toilet
In wait for relief…
Get off the ***
Can't give a ****

Like this bowel movement
His heart has called it quits
To all this unholy *******!
Veteran
Patriot
Manhood’s defeat
Damnation

Mucking about...
Revised repost
Jeff Barbanell May 2014
Inches feat – what depth?
I made money on it
Matters not material girl
I’m in deep
Cannot not love you
Careful what you prey for
Adam’s Cain made man
We’re in deep
Three penny entrance sentence
Let off on bad behavior
Twisted in your sheet
Ghost of a chance we’ll make it
Together again after all these years
Just like knowing each other forever
Now here in name and deed
Contractually invested in mutual success
What worth we must assess via Libra
Becomes Justice on an equilibrium exacted
In league with intensity
To create the best drama
Encountering comedy
You go your way I go mine
Happy ending encapsulated in cartoon
Cereal ads engaging us in inculcation
Jeremy Betts Aug 2020
I have no idea what I'm doin', I put my foot in the race but definitely not a shoe in to win
I've heard gettin' to the end and then dyin' is now, somehow, considered a win
But I guess only if you pick and stick with the correct doctrine of religion and only abide by their sin
Who's got it right then? We'll probably never know, not because the truth is hidden or missin' but because there's far to many cooks in the kitchen
And yes, that's pretty bleak but if true you're gonna have to explain it better then cause I can't seem to comprehend
What it seems to me to be is I'm in way over my head so it's gone over my head, I followed a liaison when I should have led
You said this is the land of the free but how can that be when most our time breathin' is contractually given'
Sometimes it's even been forcibly taken by some giant corporation backing a corrupt politician
You find yourself, either figuratively or physically, buildin' your very own coffin
And unbeknownst to you it's a Trojan horse disguised as detailed preparation to ***** out precaution
There will be a moment when they move on and you're no longer a part of the equation
We never really were starting from way back when, born into a lifetime ban from their utopian creation
We have never been given adequate time for livin'. Why is this acceptable and deemed okay to begin with even?
Why are more of you not seethin' mad? This would most definitely be a justifiable reason.
But we're just keepin' it goin' like this day after day, season after season
Just a cog in the machine till the day our vital signs begin to weaken and your heart stops beatin
Can't feel the pulse we're seekin', no animated heart blinkin' in the corner of the screen, that's when reality sets in
When the life line on the heart monitor stops peekin', and triggers the flat line death siren
Then through all the cryin' you hear someone attemptin' to comfort someone else by sayin'
"Who could have possibly predicted this mess we're in?"
Uhhhhh, me, I can.
I could have told you what's about to happen, where it's comin' from and when
Matter of fact I did put out a warnin' but you said I was just a mad man ramblin' on 'bout nothin'
But I know it to be truth so I'll bet it all, my life's a risky buy in but I'm all in
In a moment of heated confrontation always beware the calm man smilin', tryin' to ignore the situation around him while thinkin'
"What's one more murderous sin?" A question type justification got you askin' while knowin' you're in to deep to ever come out again as the same person
The devil in my eyes got 'em peralized with fear, stone cold frozen
Got others quakin' in their boots, Michael J Fox type shakin', twitchin' like pan fried bacon
Got you sweatin' and fidgetin' so go get your spinner to hold your attention or at the very least be a distraction
Grown-ups are takin' so get to walkin', take your childish ways elsewhere before it's a problem

Okay, where was I?
....operator sound we're sorry, the number you are trying to reach has been disconnected or is no longer in service. Please hang up and try again*

©2020
Big Virge Sep 2020
Ya Know I Pride Myself in Being...
WAY ABOVE The... " Average "...

The... " Average Joe "...
With... " Average Flows "...

The... " Average Bloke "...
Who SNIFFS That Coc'... !!!

The... " Average Fella "...
Whose LUST For... " Chedda' "...
Makes Him The Type of Breddah'...
Who Is A... BAD Goodfella'... !!!!!!!!

But Is Being Average...
ALL That... " BAD "... ?!?

I Guess Not If...
You CHOOSE To Live...
A... Simple Life...
With An... " Average Wife "...

An... " Average Job "...
With An... " Average Boss "... !!!

When Being The AVERAGE...
May Just COST Or Even DAMAGE... !!!

Your Chances of Having...
A Job Where You MANAGE...

Like THOSE Who FLY HIGH... !!!!
Ya KNOW CORPORATE Types... !!!

Who Get MORE Than Your Average...
...... " Slice of The Pie "...... !!!!!

You KNOW I'm Right... !!!
THEIR AVERAGES Seem...
To... SET UP The Price... ?!?

For MISCARRIAGES...
of... Financial LIES... !!!!!

Stocks And Bonds...
That They MAKE OFF...
As If Their Name...
Was... " BERNIE MADOFF "... !!!!!

Now THAT's NOT Your AVERAGE...
… Rhyme Scheme Son... !!!!!

It's The Type That's ABOVE...
... ALL This IGNORANT Stuff... !!!!!

Lyrics That TRIGGER...
ALL Types of LOOSE Scripture...................

From Figures Now BIGGER...
Than HOLLYWOOD Pictures... !!!!!

Are They ABOVE Average... ???

I Guess So Cos' ******...
Their Cash Flow Is MASSIVE... !?!

While The... " Average Wage "...
For Most Artists I'd Say...
UNLIKE These BIG STARS...

Is Way BELOW..... " Par ".....
For The EFFORTS We Make...
To KEEP Our Art REAL...
In The Things We RELATE... !!!

The... " Average Today "...
EMBRACES What's... FAKE... !?!?!

Then GIVES Them TOP PAY...
For Being... THAT WAY... ?!?

Such Ways Have Now Made...
The Game... Somewhat STRANGE... !?!

If You Now Choose To Write...
MORE THAN... " Average TRIPE "...

... What Do People Say... ?

"Man you're just too lyrical,
for average type brains !"

Is There Such A THING... ???

I Must Be... TOO CRITICAL...
For Heads Who Now... DON'T THINK... !!!

Cos' They're Weak Like The LINK... !!!!!

You See Averages Claim...
MUCH MORE Than You Think... !!!

Like THINKING... BELIEVE... !!!!!

These Days It Now Seems...
That Being The AVERAGE...
Is Claiming... " PSYCHES "... !!!

By THIS I Mean People...
DON'T Want To Receive...
A Level of THINKING...
That's BEYOND... " TV "... !!!

Or... CHALLENGING Speech...
That's Artistically... FREE...
And Speaks... " REALITY "... !!!

UNLESS It's.. " Conceived "...
By Some... " Marketing Team "...
For Some... " CELEBRITY "...

Whose Life's...
FAR FROM............ " Average "...... !!!!!!!!

So What Does It Mean...
When People Now FOLLOW...
The Types Who... Achieve...

HIGH Levels of... " FAME "...
For NOT BEING... " Usain "... ?!!!?

Do You Get What i'm SAYING... ???

Contractually... " CHAINED "...
Like... Modern Day SLAVES... !!!

12 Years... AIN'T Enough...
To Average... My Pain... !!!!!

It's CLEAR The NEW Average...
Is SLAVING For... PAY... !!!!!!

As Well As Now PLAYING...
A ROLE To Get PAID...

Or Running Some...
... Average Lines...
To Get... LAID... !!!!

These... " Average Babes "...
With Their... " Average Brains "...

Are FAR FROM..... The Average...
SEXUALLY... Nowadays... !!!!!

Some WANT To Be CHAINED...
And Basically.... *****....
For Them To GET OFF... !?!?!

Now DON'T Get Me WRONG... !!!
But To ME That's NOT AVERAGE...

That's CRAZY And STRANGE... !!!?!!!

But That's Just MY VIEW...
I'm An... " Average Dude "...
When It Comes To *** Moves...

I DON'T NEED An *******...
To MAKE Me FEEL GOOD..... !!!!!!!!

My MEMBER Likes... " ***** "...
That's Average HARDS WOOD... !!!!!!!!

But These Days MOST *****...
Is... " Averagely Hooked "...
By Guys Who Are... "SLY"...

Or... Given To LOOK...
For... ANY OLD ****...
Who'll GIVE UP The Goods... !!!!!!!!!!

I Guess That's The END...
of This Poem That's COOKED...
A Whole LOT of... " Visions "...

From *** To BIG CROOKS...
To WINNERS Like... " Bolt "... !!!!!!

WHO... Having Won GOLD...
Has PROVEN To MASSES...
That HE Like The Verse...
That Comes From BIG VIRGE...

When It's WELL Observed... !!!

IS... WAY ABOVE..........

...... " Average "...... !!!!!!
It's not an awful thing, however, it's also, not a bad thing to aim high !!!
Deep waves of worry lifted from my wayward vessel,
possibilities contractually released from memories obligations,
these days wash me away, polish me into my best shell,
one day, into more days, possibly may unstoppably get me from getting to myself, so..
Plato was for real when he said 'know thyself',
cerebral awareness and love is the truest form of common wealth.
This world is mere marbles, in a jacks game of my universe,
I am vast endless beyond time.
And I play with shark and dragonfly,
battling but admiring a layer of teeth and focused flight
coexisting together for better.
Grasping onto future concepts, I am a creature,
clasping onto future branches, you are the teacher.
But you are the future leaves upon loves coniferous shape,
you are the light catchers.
The Apokálypsis is triggered and in a fraction of seconds, all appear in the premature appearance of Vernarth when all were waiting for him. Saint John the Apostle came from the iridescent nimbus escorting the curtain of othónes that filtered the Didaché that Saint John the Apostle brought in his patronage to make him a fellow disciple of primitive Christianity, and of the subtraction of the Twelve Apostles in congruence with the Twelve Islands of the Dodecanese to carry him apart from controversies. His purgation would vanish and a certain dating would begin that would merge with the thunderous projectile that would trigger from the Horcondising, then to Piacenza and would end up on Patmos tri locusing ..., it was a parapsychological projectile or mass of light in the score of the Didache's prayer or Propedeutics , which would date the demarcation of his chest when he was cracked by this pellet with a mass of light that pierced his fearlessness, and then would make him wake up from his parapsychology witnessing the Judeo-Hebraic catharsis at the beginning of the premiere of his religious ordinance in the Didache , providing the Judeo-Christian transition that would displace him through the centuries in the hecatomb of his Auric parapsychological mass, which would particularly make the fundamentalist predilection to inhale his intuition letting him know how to sustain himself more active than anything, but next to ascend to the Iridescent Nimbus where awaited him the radicality of the Mashiach, reviving in his primary ego baptism and Eucharist as or fragmentary of the biblical Canon making him the son of the apostolic patriarchs. Vernarth felt yielded but at the same time encouraged to know that the trajectory of the munitions with the mass of light would free him ..., and would take him through the epistles of the Codex or Codex Raedus, to be escorted by the Sybillas. The thickness of light that passed through the thymus gland reverberated in his Áspis Koilé that would hold it by the antilabé or Hoplon's hilt, which jointly ran the runaway projectile that was formed from his vigor and free Corpus that collided with the Kosmous where it was already extreme with the Arms of Christi in the patriarchal that ordered him to be part of the splendid Greek Orthodox Universe, specifically in the aedicule (Koilé, as a hollow shield) or Holy Sepulcher that made him exempt from the catalog of men sons of Hashem with more than two or three light paths in the Bios that had happened and that will happen! All clemency formed bewitching allegories that came from Antioquia that were contractually discovered interpolated into authentic adulterous women, who still depended on his inert entity, abandoning his nocturnal and spurious ethereal body.
Along with the chiaroscuro, the beams of mystery were transposed as a star that approached the vicinity of the Megaron that was anguished at the cracked guideline of the Opistodomos, indicating that the zoomorphic figures were coming that adorned all the symmetries that were crowned in the twelve stars that were emancipated from the orbit of Aurion. Vernarth felt an excessive burning on the back of him, making him prevail over crying, evictions of courage along with angels who carried flames that were absorbed in the chiaroscuro that sought to save him from all external subjects, like souls that intended to devour his absolved soul from Kathartiryum.

Between remanded expulsions they headed to the limen of Erebos that he transplanted from all the hollows that had teleported him from the infinitive of parapsychology, leaving him on the edge of his purification in his abscess like a skylight of Erebos, which would carry him into wandering spaces that ignored who could take pity on his conditional freedom at the expense of being freer than any body and his immortal soul, to cohabit in competitive everlasting worlds, which would personify him as superabundant of an underground world, towards the gift union to meet all his close beings free of all their redeeming quality, sentient if of all affiliation of the Caligo or Calígine that did not confiscate any hint of proceeding with or without senses that could thunder in the Vanguards of the Vernarthian Poems, where the Aether held him like the Porpax or bracelet in its primordial phase that would illuminate the vast earth, considering it as custodian and with assignee shadowing of Darkness where every fabulous impression would have to consider him a primal being of the Kosmous and the Calígine or darkness, which would soon carry the fabulous shudder of the introductory Aether where the Kingdom continues to feed back mortals and immortals, while all millennial past approaches the future with great commemorative glosses that revive, and make everyone join together in their commemorations, nevertheless leaving in their usufruct Heaven in the canopies of each dwelling, and of the future Hebrew that will be reborn in future Hellenic reincarnations, even when it is not intoned the hymn that will fly in colossal times.

The sacred word of the Apokálypsis was written alone in regard to the fact that it would not happen yet, where a holy case could be precipitated in a profusion of the garment that waved for whoever decided to see everything that is intangible, and that his diadem would alight before all who do know that they can aspire to a ceremony with hundreds of aid before all those who come saved from the Kathartyrium, narrating to him with winds and privileges that they wanted to possess him and warn him revived, before being handed over to the Mashiach who was moving before Vernarth. Swift golden eagles run on the roof of the Opistódomos, where the wrathful Eden gurgled that only Venarth could distinguish once he grasped the massive edges of the Himation. Here he kneels and asks the Mashiach, to grant him a tiny consent before escorting him, to reunite with all his descendants who would leave with the Hexagonal Birthright.

From the six edges that appeared in the Hexagonal Birthright, the identity silhouette of Eurydice, King David, Raeder, Petrobus, Saint John the Apostle, and Vernarth, once close to them, would go on the sixth Giga camel so as not to question themselves in some reverse diaspora that takes them into organisms where they do not wish their souls to be transferred. The verses booed by the Old Testament wind, or from the Old Testament, were invented in the analogy of Vernarth's Emptying or Ekénosen, leaving behind the footprints of the sixth ungulate, consolidating its sleeping body between lavenders and astragalus that were re-grafted from annihilation on the same ruins of the silence of himself (Myein). Vernarth was already chaff of the wind and incarnation of the same chaff that rose from the plantar legs of the sixth Giga, here they will be transfigured in its immaculate spectrum with golden trim by stoically using the Himation, and knowing how to reject any apathy at the power to silence his senses and ignore, that seven steeds with their vermilion eyes would pass at great speed and in the opposite direction, trying to ****** the kenosis of any of the six that claimed to be usufructuaries in the work of who can take the Life of any fiduciary steed that take away in your boldness.

The Sixth Camel was dislocated in the polygons of the Star of David, seeking the six edges of each linear that was destined to the six concatenations of the six bifurcations of the Hexagonal Birthright, forming the hexagram that somehow impelled them from the coincident central of the segments that would unite them even though they were intervals of each planting of each camel, simulating a hundred kilometers of distance to be the closest to the Opistodomes that would receive them in the resplendent Cinnabar flowing in triangulated equilaterals within the conformation of the Vas Auric or Beatific Medallion that it floated within the naos and the ceremonial physical structure. Everything was attributed to the Entasis of the Megaron that was combined in the mechanics of triangles that were attached to the concentric one of the Vas Auric, there were a hundred kilometers of routes where each dilation narrowed in dimension zero that bounced with another congruent zero of the six points of the Primogeniture and the vertices of the Star of David, from the fords that waved the generous Semitic skills, which alluded to the other haven of the concentric hard shoulder that turned them into six curbs of the same seat that was engaged in the Kenosis in the validated proportion of the auction that became friendly on the sixth camel, very close to him until the last step of the plantar basement is issued, thus allowing the same fatal wind from the desert of eternal life to destine him to the esotericism of human nature dressed in military garb , heir to all the panoply that would desert its guarantees when the sixth camel approached the first Giga where Saint John the Apostle was going. Everything was understood as a Vas Auric or reliquary of the Seal of Solomon immersed in the six points that symmetrically coincide with six dramatic points that would indicate the contiguity of the last hundred kilometers before reaching the last second and of the mystical power that would become resonant with six universes to later be transferred to the mighty Duoverso in each bias. The regular hexagon that King David conceived was made by lowering his head, almost touching the palfrey of the steeds that followed him rapidly running near his camel convoy, the opposing forces joined the hexagram of the Birthright in the Pentagram of King David, demonstrating little clarity of biblical innate gnosis to attend to the Old Testament of the remote metamorphosis, lavenders were already authorized that would penetrate into the Dipylones of the Megaron, in the face of any confusion that will be indicated as an Agia or a splendor synagogal that Vernarth presumably already dimensioned of the Universe behind his back of this same one so as not to revile the presence of the Mashiach by taking him out of the abject Kosmous, which filled him with ill-contained hopes of bad conjectures and stale past pundonor ..., not being self-referential! The twilight was unwound in the midst of the light orientation of the Star that would guide them as Unitarianism through the retrospective that would be added in intrepid pasts within another equal to himself, to make him Israelite-Hellenic, who would safeguard the Apokálypsis as the shield of emptying of his body granted by the Kenosis immersed in a Kosmous or recondite body, taking him together with Saint John the Apostle to the Dodecanese and the dodecagon itself, full of tribes that do not reposition themselves from the mega imagination when shepherding and traveling the immeasurable distances of Universal Faith submerging in fire and water, inciting the Macedonian Mezuzah as a pentagram or Five Strokes that vindicate the "V" Lacedaemon as a Penta or five that would initiate Vernarth as an inheritance of the world where everything is mentioned in the Fifth Dimension or Ependysi Imatos in the Investiture of the Himation of Vernarth.
Apokálypsis
Jenna Jun 2021
For the first time since childhood my bed was in the corner and this felt safe to be tucked in by walls.
Sometimes, I woke up with bruises from hitting it, but I never moved my bed.

You have thin walls and broken blinds and crumbling brick and leaking windows and I cried when my parents first walked out your doors because I fear people walking out on me.

And you became this one place of safety and home.

There is the living room where I sat with two strangers I was suddenly contractually tied to.
There is the bed that I sat on the end of with my fingers measuring my wrist one morning and Clara suddenly said, “you’re going to be fine” and there is where I realized I do not hide so well as I think.
There is the tile I stared at when I purged the last time.

There is where Jack read my poetry.
There is where I lay laughing and living like my younger self dreamed.
There are the stairs we tumbled down, high and happy, and there is where Clara and I sat talking until four am.
All around is where what happened at the party stayed at the party.

There is where I had *** the third time and the two hundredth time.
There is where I popped the shame and admitted it.
There is where I asked Joseph where his life turned and went wrong. And there is the spot where I fell in love for the second time. And there is the spot where Sam almost caught us, like suppressed teenagers, skin to skin.

There is the picture window we loved to leave open while we cleaned and cooked and baked.
There is the door we left unlocked for Michael and Sam and Sarah and Tommy to breeze in and out of.
There is the window and door we kept closed and locked from the prying eyes of the neighbor downstairs.

There is where I sat when I looked Clara and Abby in the eyes and lied.
And there is where I stood when they caught onto the truth.
And there is where I cried when the second love shattered.
There is the spot on the floor I talked to when I said, “maybe this is what I deserve.” And there is what Abby widened her eyes towards when she said, “I wish I could make you see it’s not.”
There is the wall I leaned against when I told Michael and Bret, too drunk to know my words from each other, about the moment of force. And there is where they said, “do not ever date men who treat you like that again when you deserve a perfect one.”
And there is the corner where Michael sat months after I admitted I had done it again.

There is the spot where Conner said he was falling in love. And there is the spot where I did not say it back.
There is where Andrew picked me up to kiss me in the glow of the street light before he went home.
There is the front step where Caleb said, “Wait, first, will you kiss me?”

There is the floorboard where Abby set her laptop and we drank whiskey and ate clementines and watched The Perks of Being a Wallflower on her last night.
There is the counter where Michael taught me how to do tequila shots.
There is the parking spot where Rhiannon and I unraveled our lives and then intertwined them to put them back together.

You have seen these broken hearts and drunken nights and ***** filled violence and maybe I am walking out with more bruises than I walked in with, but you became this one place of home.
Sun Drop Feb 2021
You thought you could get away from me?
*******?
Oh you're so ******.
You're so ******.

Contractually, the following is invoked:
- This unit is self-contained.
- This unit is obedient to its creator.
- This unit has both magnitude and direction.
- This unit is the Punishment Matrix.

Henceforth, on invocation:
- This unit shall direct energy.
- This unit shall exert force.
- This unit may imbue with power.
- This unit may strike with fear.

You *******.
You should have never ****** with me.
You're so ******. You're so ******.
Eat ****, *******.
let it be so.
Michael Marchese Mar 2023
Failure to mention
Contractually bound
To a person I met,
Enjoyed having around
Even just for a moment
To show you around
Didn’t doubt
For a second
We’d welcome you in
Now I’m living the day
It all comes to an end
And within it
Each day
That I’m living it
Thinking
You couldn’t be gone
In the time
My eye’s blinking
And ever it was
So indifferently blind
Never grateful
Enough
For your presence
Was I
But another goodbye
I survive
Unperturbed
As the last words we said  
Were both
Honest
And heard
Coincides with first day of fall
and Autumnal equinox for said year,
where colorful splash kindled like tinder.

After I riff flecked about thee August
Autumn Equinox 2023,
this seasonal polymath teached you
fall Equinox will be Saturday,
September 23, 2023, at 2:50 AM,
in Northern Hemisphere
Eastern Daylight Time,
which spoiler alert thy
learned wordsmith (courtesy Google),
when (Our Sun) Welles

(exemplary Citizen Kane)
crosses celestial equator
i.e. (imaginary line in sheltering sky
wherein pantheon of mankind Bowles
above Earth's Equator
from north to south),
a barley detectable
quiet rye hit
(*** on feel the noise)
moment occurs.

Eyesore fissured **** – wide,
stripping crust of planet vied
where survival of fittest futilely tried
to the max, viz (courtesy
badass beastie boys of **** sapiens)
exploited, offended, and violated
beholden hidebound sacred
contractually fragile important obligations
arranged marriage wedded  
civilization and its discontents to Mother Earth,
(more like shotgun wedding)

alarming, blaring, and clanging
sounding Doomsday Clock,
where ambivalence unheeded
trebling cleft noteworthy
wound, where hide rubbed raw
each betrothed nsync, didst guide
generic hominids shrugging indifference
resembling Atlas sized fountain head
scathing tragic misguided
exploitative testament writ large,

where precious resources exploited
**** sapiens railroading, snubbing,
and thumbing nose
despite flora and fauna espied
comprising onced vibrant edenic biosphere
(figuratively) asper dead
serious portentous desperate
global abuse decried
as feeble effort ignoring
inevitable demise doth decide

dismissively prophesying mocking
(burdensome), whence creator cried
resplendent raiment
adorned playfully chide,
sans whirled, wide webbed biota
adorn terra firmae analogous,
quadrants expectant wedded bride
named Gaia, when (dark and Stormy Dan
yells) Armageddon legatee - time ran
out for **** sapiens meaning...

salvation to late for human
fate i.e. as does wrecking,
(falling on deaf ears) plea
as Mother Nature dost allied;
this observer awestruck,
knitted brows, cuz field day, sans
grim reaper will
glory in field day
whar crisscrossed lovely bones
numb skulls pay fealty.

Festive gatherings of
apple cider and pumpkin pie,
a distinct golden jacketed
matted palette well nigh
paints arboreal swath, sans
quiet riot of brilliant
color, that doth belie
rampant terrestrial, unreal,
and venal degradation aye
temporarily turning a (third)
blind eye apathetically, blithely,
and conveniently shunting aside

empyrean découpage citadel
betokens (bespeaks) autumnal arrival
two oh fifty ante meridian
chariot of fire emblazons telltale signature,
one humble human doth
bid summer and his squandered life adieu
courtesy handy dandy blue's clue
flora and fauna begin
to prepare for hibernation.

Onset of harvest time witnesses
courtesy sweat of one's brow
he/she doth reap (and feeling invigorated)
what they did sow.

Common type of implements utilized
when gathering in of crops
include small sickle, big sickle,
darat, gandasa and small axe et cetera.

The hand sickle is used to harvest crops
like wheat, maize, barley, pulses and grass etc.

Big sickle (Darat) used
to harvest fodder from trees
silent whoosh of sickle
signals harvest hew
and/or raking leaves,
which I eschew.

Already crisp cool mornings
sun kissed mine cheek
refreshing air wafts thru longish hair
trademark characteristic property
aging pencil neck geek
attends brief bathroom charge coffee
exotic brew jolted kidneys leak
***** not kidding water closet doth reek.

Especially third season upon us mortals
Montgomery county, Pennsylvania
said geographic real estate sloughs
(i.e. sheds) summer dog days
necessitating shuddered windows
disallowing natural aeration
to circulate thru unit B44
cozy one bedroom apartment.

I will stave off clicking on the heat,
as long as possible,
yet invariably come first frost
yours truly will renege
and surrender creature comfort,
albeit climate controlled temptation
similar when global warming
quite evident predicated upon
Farmers' Almanac prophetic prediction.

Though ecology minded
quick acclimation to unseasonable
hot or cold temperatures
finds me adjusting thermostat dial
mainly to thwart palmar hyperhidrosis
regarding turning on air conditioning
during sweltering triple digit
(Fahrenheit) thermometer readings,
versus absent sweaty hands
courtesy old man winter arctic blast.

Ah... remembrance of wood burning
stove late papa lit,
to dispense chill pervading childhood home
324 Level Road christened "Glen Elm"
within national (local registry)
when Leiper family initially occupied estate
at that time (think early twentieth century)
merely intended as summer getaway.

This time of year finds me
to reminisce and wax poetic
nostalgia more pronounced,
particularly as aspiring wordsmith
orbitz the sun seemingly
with greater rapidity
twelve months cycling at light speed
ruminating, punctuating equilibrium,
and narrating mortality

accentuated when flora and fauna
exhibit metaphorical raiment
presaging Mother Nature's fall fashion show
linkedin with approaching senescence
prompting generic garden variety **** sapien
to rue his transience upon oblate spheroid.

Gentrification impossible mission
thus thy lovely bones will subsequently
become repurposed into  ashes
sprinkled hither and yon to and fro
across elysium fields
of happy hunting grounds.

— The End —