Watch Bush.
Watch him push,
Metropolitan moods
Farther towards
The Atlantic and Pacific.
What issue was the key?
Gay marriage to be specific.
Forget our foreign policy,
Although the future looks horrific.
Ask all our allied countries,
Our president’s terr(or)ific.

He’s watching our country’s back.
(A side note: Reasoning for attack;
Some big weapons in Iraq).
This war is justified,
Our government’s convinced of that.
But waging full-out war
On a country and all its people,
Where only terrorists act?

If my sail has gone downwind,
Please advise me to tack.
But I strongly believe,
Our reasoning’s that wack.
I wish our president had the nerve
To bring our soldiers back.

It was a brilliant diversionary tact,
And advisors guessed well on how
The United States would react.
Bring fear and resources to the forefront, while hiding the facts
And legislatures and voters have a worthwhile contract.

So while I’m sitting here, still trying to figure out
Why we can’t implement more help in Somalia or the Sudan
Our leader has emerged on the world’s stage again,
Yelling “Can I get encore, do you want more?”
And ethics continue to slide off track,
While our diplomatic virtue fades to black.

Bush Jr. won the election “fairly,”
It’s clear for all to see.
But it’s sad to watch how easily
Politicians, Fortune 500 companies, and lobbyists
Have learned to exploit our Democracy.
An adept political machine,
Our government has no trouble raising the green
For our defense budgets and campaign schemes.

And it seems we forgotten about
Rescuing underfunded education,
How our country hurts collectively as a nation.
Left most of New Orleans’ poor and down-trodden
To the heroic efforts of local police, the coastguard and firemen
(At least those who weren’t part of the 1300
Which the water levels reached higher than).
And it makes me wonder,
Like 7 years ago, on the 11th day,
In the ninth month of our calendar year:
Through the wake of another major
Catastrophe and time of tears,
Did we miss the lesson, again?

See, we’ve made it a routine
To apologize after the fact -
One overzealous scream,
And the media makes
A joke of a good candidate,
Sorry, Howard Dean.
John Kerry’s record,
“Too sparkling clean.”
But accusing ANY politician of flip flopping
On the world’s political matters,
I hardly call that keen.
“We” had many grounds
For initially invading Iraq,
But to this day, have any been gleaned?
Our President lost 90-9,
In Washington D.C.

The President Elect
For 365 more.
In fact 365,
365 times four.
And with a majority in senate,
A “mandate” (a.k.a. a wide open door).

Time to get some things changed.
Instead of patching up wounds,
Of countries estranged,
With all the ambiguity of the election,
And the issues that ranged,
One thing is certain -
The President reigns.
Under the heat of the world’s glare,
Our burning Bush remains.

Let me tell you about being raised Catholic. When you're raised Catholic, you go to church because that's what your parents tell you to do. That's what they did, thats what you will do, and thats what your kids will be expected to do. If you volunteer as an alter-server, good for you that's mad brownie points and you will probably get the bigger gift at Christmas time. You make jokes out of Sunday school, and mostly just go because they always had Oreos and punch. You memorize prayers that mean absolutely nothing to you as you recite them. You have your First Communion in 2nd grade, and are expected to believe that the bread and the wine are not just a symbol, but actually Jesus Christ's body and blood (because they put it into a magical box the night before and it gets turned into flesh). You go to confession as often as your mom makes you, I've actually been dragged there several times. You are 8-years-old and expected to confess "your sins" which end up being "I fought with my brother" or in my case "I threw a pair of safety scissors at my brother." Or you just end up actually sinning because you are making up lies to tell the priest so it looks like you actually sinned and he can give you penance and then you can go pray a set of prayers and, wah-lah, your 8-year-old, mobster self is brand new and free to go home and play. Then you are in 9th grade, I was actually in 8th grade because I was a year ahead which gave me even less power in decision making..(just kidding, you don't really have a choice) to become a legitimate member of the Catholic Church. You get a sponsor and a Saint name and thats about as exciting as it gets. They don't hold you underneath the crucifix and brand your skin, surprisingly enough. They just swing a aspergillum thing at you and make you recite some stuff. Then you go home and eat cake with your sponsor and they tell you how proud they are of you and give you a dainty cross necklace.
Somewhere in the midst of the whole Parish School Religion process you are filling out workbooks on top of all your other homework with apostle names and words like "mercy" and "forgiven." There is also a week before confirmation where you spend 48-hours in the church basement and they try to convince you that you are there to make a commitment to God, even though you are in 9th grade and all you are worried about is standing at the cool spot on the hill at the football games and not saying anything stupid. I pretty much just slammed all of what being raised Catholic is, but here is the one good thing I took from it.

At the 48-hour thing they have some huge surprise at the end for you. They do the same thing every year, and all your older siblings and kids at the church know what it is but they aren't allowed to tell you. They give everyone a table and a box of tissues and "surprise" here are letters from everyone in your family telling you how proud they are. It's nice, but I'll always remember the letter my godmother wrote me. Let me just start off by saying my godmother is straight-up one of the coolest people I've ever met and if I could be like her one day, I wouldn't be able to complain. She lives in a tiny, brick cottage on a hillside in North Royalton with a beautiful garden and black dogs and a motorcycle. She has seen all 50 states and more, is single and does everything she loves and from what I can see, she is one of the happiest people I know. I've always envied her calm, cool independence and her knowledge about the world. Anyway, she wrote something along the lines of this,
"Lee, you know I'm proud of you. I know I am not the best influence when it comes to going to church, but my church is out in the woods and the whole world"
I've based my faith off of this simple letter ever since.
I go to mega-church sometimes now. I don't really like them that much. They're pretty cult-like too.  They keep the air conditioning too high, but always have free coffee. They always have a really pretty girl with a really pretty voice singing, accompanied by some hipster kids playing guitars. There is a whole section of young adults wearing snap backs and button-ups..I always wonder why they are there, and I bet they wonder why I'm there too because I almost always feel like someone judges me every time I walk into a mega-church; they do a really nice job of using diversionary tactics when it comes to the lgbt community...
This is the sad stereotypical Christianity I have more recently grown accustomed to though and I usually don't let it bother me because sadly I'm not at church for fellowship, sorry that's just honesty.
So why am I there? Why am I going to a mega-church?
I'm going to take a stab at what my motive is here, and I honestly don't know if it will be right.
Maybe I'm there because I like listening to pretty girls sing.. seriously though it always makes me bawl, but the good, happy kind. Surprisingly enough, the coffee is pretty good, even if they give you the smallest cups in the universe. I usually drink all my coffee (burn my mouth every time) in the first 5-minutes while they ask for your money and talk about what's going on in the community kinda *******. After that, a pastor gets up there and I hesitate to put my guard down most of the time he preaches. Usually I think about, "what if this was a badass lesbian pastor, that'd be so cool..I need to find one of those churches." Then I feel bad for letting my mind get off track and then I remind myself that it's okay, I'm human and that's why I'm here.
I've gone to a mega-church on and off for like a year and I still hate the throwing your hands up in the air, clapping kinda stuff. Maybe that's the raised Catholic thing still kind of embedded in me, my mom was always so strict on proper etiquette in "God's house."  I don't like all that ****, though... I can respect it, but it's not for me. So I sit there or stand there and listen to the music and hope the pastor doesn't underhandedly say something ****** about gay people because that would **** to have to find another church, even though it's about time I do. I wont lie, I'm reminded of my strengths usually and find a lot of bravery in myself; in my humility and vulnerability sometimes, in the fact that I play my weaknesses as much as I play my strengths but I don't let them define me, and my ability to pick my battles and save my breath. I usually feel pretty good when I come out, like I can stop fighting with the world about things and stop breaking my own soul for no reason. But things usually go back to the way they were, because that's most of the battle and that's faith. It's an extremely hard thing to come to terms with and accept all of yourself and that you were defended. It will be a lifelong battle of all types of acceptance, and I might never find a physical church I actually like and feel comfortable in, but I always have the woods and lakes and oceans and the world, and that makes me pretty happy.

Long time alone,
Hell's not happy,
A therapy of diversionary tranquility,
Smokey windows cleansed,
By saturated sponges,
Drenched with negativity,

Rinsed out ,
Sponges washed with positivism,
In rose water rich,
Seeking a silken purse,
Created from dreamer's ears,

Light arises out of darkness,
Alabaster angel,
In cotton dress,
Sprayed with purple haze,
Be amazed,
No longer lost!

By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

In dreams, I live thinking of you as I leave my deep sleep, wonderful REM sleep, nearly awake,
Deep as  glory chasm, pleasure filled and sumptuous, wonderful image of lovely,lush candy coloured clouds,
Aw shucks,
Oooh, put away those rose-tinted specs again, just phantoms at play,
Stupid ****** woman, she's one hell of a woman ,are or at least, so I was told !
Witches and *******, woman all on the take, make of that sad suggestion, whatever you like,
Those flamin' heart strings are elastic, as lycra  spring loaded, ****** drastic,
Oh here we go, up and down, roller coaster of love's essence captured me again!
Bang, deck hit, oh s**t!
In dreams I'm laying curled up as vulnerable, miniscule, lost innocent, sweet soul at rest,
Convincing you that belonging is supreme in being rather than being lost in diversionary excuses of self inflicted
solitude!
Virtual madness, in fantasy!
Tortured by long gone spirits morose, whose purpose is torture, sad souls, destroying the world of belief in life,
is for the living,
In dreams, what will you find,  perchance, me haunting recesses deep in your head,
Guess, that's the only way I can share your bed!
Copyright Livvi 07/04/2013.

TOMORROW

It is to be the first Friday of Ramadan,
no particular creed,
not Muslim or Jewish,
in particular,
all seem to take the blame,
so much ******,
diversionary tactics,
kidnap and ****** lust,
take not the children,
take not another,

I'm sure in all religions,
the prophets,
the Gods and idols,
declare thou shalt not ****,
unless of course you fancy Jihad,
humanity, well veered from the path,
for Heavens sake,
it's got so lost.
There are angels and demons,
deities and things to be,
and things to come,
but are they done?

Love your brothers,
love your sisters,
There is too much to lose,
We are human,
we should dig into our hearts,
to find compassion,
and you wonder why,
I don't do organised religion,
I'm sure you do,
they say all's fair in love and war,

I care not what religion you follow,
nor in whose name,
I care for all my fellow men,
in equal measures!
(C) Livvi

A lived in land.
Where things are changed and rearranged.
Where the papers portents for tomorrows news.
In account of them,the magnificent commoners and all that they choose.

This lived in land.
An experience of worlds and making merriment
Full of memory triggers, where everyone sniggers,
discussing the times that are gone.

Existed in the land of experience a mirror.
It's broken now.
A million broken shards of heart.
They're shattered all around the flowers.

So how does your garden grow?
Perfection?
Not mine.
A recollection of flowers.
Battling springtime showers.
You hope they won't be washed away.
The memories,
The transgressions,
The diversionary tactics, from the path you once trod.
The one from which you stumbled blinded.
You stupid sod.
Piles of sods as the mound grew.
Blinded by the hair in your eye.
The winds somehow chewing your cheeks.
The self you acquired, caught hold of today.
(C) Livvi

Can you hear it behind the closed doors
can you hear them sweeping the streets
it's curfew time, keep your head down
or you will hear that familiar sound, "Get down on the ground"

Look at it on both sides
keep down and get into their minds
let them know
you are not for the taking

Stay cool, let me act like a fool
it's a diversionary tactic
get down off your feet
they are sweeping the streets

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

The itching under his eva suit now had reached the point of agonizing and suddenly began its slow ascent to unbearable levels. Even his sweat which now continued running down his body profusely in constant streams of torment, felt almost alien to him. It was like a foreign force which was now besieged his sanity. He bit his lip tightly as a diversionary tactic. He twinged with fear that his front teeth would break the skin and draw blood. Desperately trying to calm himself he took his first nervous steps forward while staring hypnotically into Space's endlessness, just beyond the ships view port. Deep loneliness was his muse as he looked out along the infinite boarders of the galaxy. "Alone," he thought, "Alone, like the singularity of a supermassive black hole in which no light could escape. He tried desperately to breath, but to his dismay the oxygen from his fatigued lungs grew stubborn and would only emerge from his lips in labored gasps. Outside millions of miniature ***** of plasma flared ferociously in their own gravity along his line of sight. These stars seemed to sparkle vibrantly as if performing a sort of celestial dance for him. The light they emitted swirled and shined as if aware of his presence, leaving him with a haunting impression that he was the only one who bare witness to their majesty.

He stopped just short of her blonde streak. “Give it to me sloppy wet,” she cooed, prompting Elvis to slap her freckled *** harder than he should've. “Do it again Elvis! And again!” Elvis obeyed, even though he hungered for a peanut buttered banana sandwich a lot. As a diversionary tactic, Elvis remembered how the instructional book Gratifying a Woman Sexually by **** Pleasureman had gotten him through the tough times when he was full of uncertainty.

Their diversionary stratagem,
Here you see, there you don't,
Dressing up the tree stem,
To hide decayed root and dying foliage.

Proper Gander Speaks

To Dumbed Down Duck


( ˚< ((((

President Zelensky'n of the

Kiev NATO ****’s is loosing

The battle and tried to create

A diversionary bombing tactic

In Poland, but it backfired on

His regime. If Liz Truss was in

Power, she would have already

Pressed the red nuclear button.


   ( I agree)

     O

   o

  ˚
(˚>