"enslaving" poems
Promises are evil
Mouths open awaiting
To be filled with blood
Sometimes bones
Other times hope
They make you sell
Another man for nickels
They make you
Bury life to avenge the dead
I despise them so
For they demand too much
Often bruising, often enslaving.
Apr 6, 2021
Apr 6, 2021 at 4:40 PM UTC
Jade helm
"Mastering the human domain"
It's all about control
Controlling human beings
And enslaving us
In the one world/new world global government
Information collection
Pre-crime technology (minority report)
System has no empathy or remorse
Self organizing, vision capable, expectation capable, recognition capable, situationally aware, emotionally intelligent, goal oriented system. The system, thinks, plans and executes.
Back in the late 80's MIT students developed AI technology on a distributed network (CGI lamp taught to dance). It Learned and evolved in 24 hours what would take 1,000 generations to accomplish. They issued a warning of how dangerous this technology is to humanity.
GEOINT
--Jade 2 plus more
--Communications
“smart grid, meter, etc"
Will be connected to this system
Control the environment
“Microchipping”
It Surpasses RFID technology
RFID chips can be removed
Nodes can be removed on a network--unplug printer
Human beings used as nodes
Eliminate connectivity to global information network
Cash removed
One world government
Domain--Human dynamics, terrain, geography
Domestic threat assessment centers
Activity based intelligence
All aspects of human activity monitored
All collected data to be geolocated
And tied to a specific node of the network
Georeferencing
do you will it
will you do it
it will do you
All three of these phrases
Have equal value
In this system
Which is very dangerous!
**Generate answers to questions
That haven’t been asked, or never existed in the first place
“Ominous” A.I.**--according to the source
Gates and Zuckerberg--want to bring technology to third world nations
GEOINT--Collect all data--for human terrain map
No privacy--no encrypted data
Welcome to Orwell's 1984, Skynet or The Borg
Sci-Fi was telling us what would be the reality
Emotional responses trigger the system
It feeds off of fear and anxiety
All the social networking--facebook, etc
All that info has been collected
Placed into this GEO INT system
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 3:09 PM UTC
my whispers,
they float over the currents
braving the undulating waves in our overture...
around their necks, hung time-worn pendants
whispers...
struggling to convey my sentence
like wreaths adrift perhaps with hope
like a requiem filled perhaps with remorseful penance
but more like weakened footholds on a slippery slope...
this dream...
only spoke grandly of sprawling blackness
where nothing did gleam
only thoughts heavy but...
oddly weightless
except for...
a repertoire of transgressions...
raucous and obnoxious
mischievous taunts that pull me back
caging me,
enslaving me,
smothering me senseless
that was my consciousness
where second chances exist...
in faint sporadic eruptions
through the heavy curtains of uncertainty's mist
finally awakened by hastened breaths
heavy and laboured
as like previous temporary deaths
I could hear my heart
thumping...
beating...
fighting...
to set its beats apart
breathe deep...
allow the new day's air sink in
rise fully from sleep
wake up
and...
let today begin
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 8:01 AM UTC
It was
terror in its
physicality. Raining
the horrifying needles
of death. Breaking away at peace
and calm, eating away at life.Plaguing
the living by burning away at sanity. Enslaving
the innocent like zombies. Will someone make a sacrifice
for the world?
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 6:30 PM UTC
1969, one voice sent the world's radios to dancing because we were passing the torch from dreaming to reality as we took to the soft landing
That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind
and for just a second, everyone alive got to feel like Einstein but
I bet you as Armstrong looked down he didn't picture the strife and denial of life to so many in sight 40 years later
street riots and technology gone violent controlling the fears of children peering through glass stained in dust as nightmares rush passed the idea of life, crushing everything in sight
we even wrote it in our constitution
Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.
but you'd have to sell your soul to bail from a life ended where money knows no measure
and you can not tell me that shooting an innocent human on mistake is neither cruel no unusual
but the constitution has turned into a wall
to push people so far back on that they couldn't turn and run
or read what was suppose to be a guarantee in the land of the free
and that's just the beginning
we're denying people from entering a country for body modification
when we've been altering our appearance longer than we have had boundaries to deny people from
because we're still leveling cities like we did when we were daydreaming and knocking block castles down
because we're still enslaving humans because of their genetics
but behind sheer curtains, it's all ok
because if you don't see then there's no need to worry
it's easy to ignore it when you have comments and feeds to read before you give the world news a chance at your attention
but what i've never understood
is how innovation and careful thinking placed a device in your hand
and all you came to do with it was carefully craft a 140 character string of ********
but i guess it goes to show
like our constitution
that though manifested to be great for the people by the people
at the end of the day, we're still too self obsessed to look at the rest of the picture
we're still too afraid to peer down at the entire world
so, Neil, I'm sorry, one giant step for man but mankind hardly remembers
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 8:35 PM UTC
I am not Christian but I have deep reverence for the teachings of Christ and his love of humanity.
I am not Roman Catholic but I recognize the life-affirming power of community, communion, and ritual.
I am not a Moslem but I find beauty and usefulness in the teachings of Mohammed.
I am not Buddhist but I have seen the results of meditation, daily spiritual practice, and putting aside my own ego.
I am not Taoist but I have felt the peace of the way of simplicity and harmony with the Tao.
I am not ancient Egyptian but I know the power of the Sun in the heavens, and I honor the Holy Mother Isis whose name has been hijacked by terrorists and propaganda machines.
I am not Wiccan but I have danced with the natural cycles of the year and the moon; I have known the power of the Earth and my place within it.
I am not Jewish but I will not forget the lessons of suffering, wandering, Silence, and discipline they have taught the world.
Heathen. Pagan. Atheist. Heretic. Believer. Trickster. Demon. Saint.
Paradoxically, I am none of these things and All of these things.
I believe in a humanity that can transcend the enslaving dogma and intolerance of patriarchy and religions used against us, to see ourselves, our god(esse)s, and our highest noble values in the faces of each other and all the natural wonders of this universal dream.
Original Sin = the Original Lie.
I believe in the goodness and greatness of us all.
Won’t you be my neighbor? <3
Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 9:54 PM UTC
I am Janus, born and lived of two faces.
One, a tragic Hero; who loved for all and forsook fame for honor.
A paragon whose powers and skills remained dormant, forgotten.
Created from a darkness so black that light could only ever be the way forward.
He, so loving the world and resigned to protect; would fall at the strength of his own sword to keep the Villain at bay.
His other face, the frightening Villain; he thirsts for the unparalleled fear in the eyes of the unprepared masses, who wide awaken their darkest fear before their very eyes, at his presence.
Forged from the evil of a holy goodness ripped too sweetly from his purpose, and with much foreknowledge of the searing light;
He merely wishes to satiate his amusement, by enslaving the Hero to defend against his endless onslaught.
I am Janus, cloven in two;
Heart and Soul, Mind and Body.
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 1:50 PM UTC
*Where can I find
the meaning of peace
when someone's dying every second
because of an empty plate
and weapons that end a fate*
**Who can we blame
For the massacre that never ends
Where lives of innocence
treated like ants
Ignorance of what we don't know
Blinded by the media who always
puts on a show**
*Why is it that we rage
when we have words
flowing from our minds,
giving all the answers
in a rough day*
**When will this end?
The earth's crying
"Please just **** me completely"
Viruses and disease
engulfs the poverty
But not the rich?
Are we really that blind to see
They preach justice but own the earth to attain power**
*How bad is the earth's wounds
as blood slowly drips
polluting the soil
creating trapped remains
buried deep in the ground,
never wanting to be found*
**Every cry of a new born child
Burnt, due to the one who
preached peace
But enslaving the innocence
Not able to savour the taste of the earth
Every mother bathe in blood
Crying in agony as the child dies**
Every day is a war that everyone must fight to survive...
but why do they choose to fight, when they can choose to live in peace?
11/26/14
-Adele ft. Erenn
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 4:06 PM UTC
I looked upon the greats, and found nothing they didnt take from the pre-existing grates, that drained our goals into slates, degraded our souls into fakes, and mistook our traits as hate, before we faded into an abatement for safetly, safely enslaving our notions as nations, from the oceans, they saved me ... made me ... who I am.
But nothing is sacred anymore
Only deplorable horror
To numb the chores
Of that other lord
That the imaginitive ignore
Pretending to abhore
The things they cant feel anymore
But what for
There might be more to a coin flip than explored.
Intent and decent Vs stoical form
Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 2:08 AM UTC
***Thick red, colored lips
Dark hair, white skin
Perfectly shaped *******
Smooth cheeks
A creature divine,
Reincarnation of Aphrodite.
Big eyes, perfect chin
Long neck, swan lake queen
A body that talks
Gaze, that penetrates deep
Turning blood to stone
In her, Medusa sleeps.
Slow pace, head high
Crossed legs, a mirage
An illusion that confuses
All who dare to stare
Inside her beautiful legs
Hera, takes her place.
Strong will, brave thoughts
Abusive smile, enslaving touch
Dancing in the wind
Fighting, when it rains
I have heard about Athena,
But she’s better than that.
You can read books, paint
Discover things, invent shapes
And you will still fail
And fall on your knees
When it comes to depicting
Just a line, of her graceful skin.***
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 6:28 PM UTC
I'm white.
I don't know what it's like
to have a black son
and wonder if he'll get shot
on a walk down the block
because his skin
camouflages him
into the night.
I am white.
I don't know what it is
to fear shots
from the gun barrels of the cops
hired to protect and serve
"us" from "them"
thick boots stomping the block--
cops more **** than Trayvon,
more **** than Mike,
more **** than the pre-teen
with a BB gun
robbed of his life.
I am white.
I don't know how it feels
to bleed out in the streets,
the fruit of my veins
soaking into scorched tar,
my still-open eyes seared
by the August sun.
I don't know how it feels
to lie there, dead,
an echo of ancestors
dangling from trees,
from light poles,
sunk into the Tallahatchie
with barbed wire and a cotton gin fan.
I am white.
Our history is filled with pale devils
enslaving races,
seizing lands,
killing millions--
so if someone's going to get shot,
maybe it ought to be one of us.
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 1:43 AM UTC
I keep fondling dreams as I
flip through FOX, CNN and MSNBC networks.
An electric lady land fantasy
of revolutions where over and over and
under and through inconsistent gibberish of
conservative conversationalists’ and
liberal libel is taken for truth.
My heart is pumping out toxic fiber optic
editorial journalistic pollution like kidneys
secrete the habit of alcohol and
cigarette poisons.
Our dependence on government help is
broken glass shards ruining the
veins of society
while Limbaugh, and spring chicken heads with a
View are enslaving our voices and
limiting the truth of our choices using
eminent domain for our minds as they spit out
their opinions through television and radio
frequencies into our brain waves as truth.
How some American hearts stay warm with
nightly news schisms, burning intolerance,
unreal realism, religious sincerity posed
and limp **** ****** commercials
is amazing. But still a paradox hoax.
May 24, 2010
May 24, 2010 at 3:15 AM UTC
Before the Dawn Of Agriculture men like ME where slapped into the shadow of ****** shame but now who needs muscles or chiseled chins, great size or strength, a lover’s passion or a manly countenance ‘cause for ten thousandyears now I can persecute any female for infidelity towards ME and hold paternity privilege over MY biological children because we exceptional farmers invented marriage to destroy human sexuality by enslaving women with MY property for *** so I no longer need to share or compete or settle for an alpha males’ sloppy seconds within foraging groups that are forced to share what they carry with them instead of our enforced legal couplings that takes the innocent, primal pleasure and mystery out of *** by connectingshtooping to birth thanks to dirt MY dirt MY very own thousand acres of seeded soil littered with pens full of MY trapped sheep, cattle, goats and pigs which means I can pork any female I fancy and destroy any man who thwarts MY desire as simply as the bulls I castrate into submission to easily herd into MY slaughterhouses that feed all the inferior people no longerdependent on their hunting and gathering skills but on ME to stay alive so not only am I not considered a sociopath by hoarding food but am praised at harvest time like a ********* Babe Ruth hero because I have legally claimed and legally ***** those precious few life giving inches of topsoil with rotating crops and extended grasslands that exhausts and shrinks the earth, MY earth MY reign of forcing agricultural workers to bend over in the fields, stupidly exposing hairless backs to sun poisoning instead of their protective hunters’ heads of hair harvesting MY food that shrinks the testicles of everyone who is forced to feed on the cheap calories of MY industrialized plants and animals that lowers fertility, but who needs big ***** anymore when you don’t have to **** larger animals in order to survive or attract females with your superior physical attributes proving I am the social parasite Sultan of Swat who grows fat on the food I’ve seized by stealingPaleo land in the name of government protected ownership.
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 8:43 AM UTC
December 1, 2009
Now I know what its like
To be the one who needs saving
I’m trying to stay strong
Without caving
My thoughts I’m enslaving
Try to save everyone
From hearing what I have to say
My mind will be free one day
To all the people who ****** me over
Its going to come back to you
You’ll **** the wrong person off
And they’ll come with there crew
You’ll have nothing to do
You’ll be *******
All the other people you ****** over
They won’t help you in the end
They just wanted there **** back
That’s why they were your friend
Now I’m gone and happy
By the time you get up
When you call me for help
I still won’t give a ****
Ashli Jane
Dec 23, 2009
Dec 23, 2009 at 8:20 AM UTC
The Gift of the Sleeping Magi
**"But in a last word to the wise of these days
let it be said that of all who give gifts,
these two were the wisest.
Of all who give and receive gifts,
such as they, are wisest.
Everywhere, they are wisest.
They are the Magi."
O. Henry**
The woman, traveling alone, thru dangerous
West Side badlands, dancing lands,
where resident fairies, ex-ballerinas all,
magical mystify a passerby's thoughts,
mesmerizing them with their mercurial maneuvers,
tango dancing upon shimmering glass pieces,
enslaving all who gaze upon them forever,
turning their captives into sleeping beauties.
Restlessly awaiting her return,
the hombre-lover early retires
to the bed chamber,
weary from another day's
woeful world worries,
long past midnight, he awakens,
disoriented, discombobulated,
and alone.
Fearing the worst,
he summons her return with text spells
and magical ringing cell's bells,
all to no avail.
He dresses,
readying for the search,
to bring her home.
Ready to depart,
he opens the door,
only to find the woman
asleep before their door.
Unwilling to awake
her sleeping hombre,
she gifts him a
rest undisturbed.
Shoulder grasped, elbow guided,
her eye glasses surgically removed,
he returns her to their bed,
to complete her own rest.
instantly, she is re-gifted,
colliding with a gravity pulling her,
into a pleasurable deep sleep.
Now wide-eyed awake,
the hombre muses and
poetry pens this tale
of his restless confusion.
O. Henry's words refurbished,
rise up, infiltrate his consciousness.
**Of all who give and receive gifts,
even the simplest,
rest undisturbed, rest completed,
they are the wisest,
everywhere they are wisest.
They are Magi.**
2::03 AM, a few years ago.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 6:36 PM UTC
Always hounding and back for more,
I dread the daily task of
mind enslaving work that
is known to ever teenager as “HOMEWORK”.
Homework; that hated name has
the unholy power to make kids like me
crumple in pain from just a page,
and gives the nerds their strength.
I wish for the weekend,
where the normal guy rules supreme,
unhindered by torturous math and history.
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 4:10 PM UTC
indifferent to unplanned pathways
destiny knows not enslaving bounds
pathways crisscross at befallen crossroads
knowing all roads lead to all roads
restlessly searching through the ache writhing within,
the voice of my soul speaks crystalline
through the hidden portal of my heart
beckoning the wounded healer within
be at home in the silent darkness of suffering
to perceive the gems of awakening light;
embrace the lessons where the wounding leads us
to bring forth a healing reincarnation,
intimately feeling the collective pulse of humanity echo
a wholeness in a deeper level our being
the only spark to rekindle a flame blown out
a soul’s assent to the labyrinth through the wound
Nov 14, 2016
Nov 14, 2016 at 9:15 AM UTC
The cloud is dark, It's a gloomy day
Perhaps this is the sign, the bleak sign i mourned for to absorb the breeding thought of killing my sprouting seed
Altering my future, an abuse of a forced choice
guided by my reason, responsive to the enslaving circumstances
I am enslaved to.
Or do i take this chance and swirl with the whirlpool in the troubled dark sea? Cast myself in it like Jonah?
My path is already marked, what i will do, what should i do? Silence my conscience and obey reason or follow passion and obey my energies? Or perhaps marry both?
After all, William Blake quotes: "Without Contraries is no Progression"
I will see in the end what will be, Que Sera Sera, and i will be sorry for the road not taken , diverged in this black wood.
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 8:03 AM UTC
The streets, plain
The scenery, new but unchanged
The city, now black and white
The candle that failed to ignite
The crisp morning air
The usual affairs
The same unheated ground
Then there was a faint sound
The leaves started to sway
There was a presence of warm sun rays
The grass and flowers danced
The prospect, enhanced
All because my ears have found
A vaguely familiar and new sound
An enamoring explosion of melody
An enthralling harmony
A beguiling musicality
An enslaving euphony
A perfect array of notes
Flowing with a hypnotic coat
A piercing tune
Resembling a rune
It's rhythm, throbbing
It's tempo, moving
The sound was too perfect and strong
That it seemed like a torturous song
Nonetheless, it was a beautiful beat
Beautiful enough to move my feet
What I heard was an alluring sound
That eventually made me slide through the ground
I closed my eyes and followed what I heard
Walking, searching, to clarify the blurred
The faint sound, grew louder
Eventually I was overpowered
While seeking for the source of the hymn
I turned into a willing victim
My feet have stopped moving
When I saw a man, the man who was playing
My eyes settled upon his silhouette
Which was in contrast to the sunset
There he was, sitting on a wooden stool
Unknowingly making all the listeners drool
His fingers fluttering atop black and white keys
Creating color through a musical breeze
I saw him, that man
Still playing, talking through his hands
I followed a sound and saw a pianist
And then my heart was kissed
Not because of the music that made my ears fuss
Not because he splashed paint all over the dull canvas
But because of how he looked at the instrument
It's as if, for the piano, his eyes were meant
How he gazed upon it with those eyes
As if the piano was his only prize
How he goggled the piano with those eyes
As if for that instrument he was willing to agonize
As if he can only see the piano
As if there was only him and the piano
It was that look that little girls dream of
It was that look that symbolized love
That look that little girls wished were for them
That look that would give little girls contemn
That look that was only for the piano
That look that was pure as snow
That look was colorful and honestly warm
That look that entrapped a celestial swarm
That look which was gentle and intense
That look which was passionate and immense
That look which was alive, painful and afraid
In that moment, I longed for a shooting star's aid
As if a little girl, I wished for what little girls wish for
I wished for him to look at me like that, nothing more
But none can compare with his instrument
Nor to the reason why he plays it with such intent
To the new girl he plays for
To the girl he currently adores
I hope his sound reaches you
I hope you listen and give him value
I hope you look at him as he plays for you
Look at him like how he looks at the piano when he thinks of you
Like how the crowd looks at him as he plays like this
Like how the little girls look like when they wish
Like how he used to look at the piano
When he misses and plays for the little girl, not too long ago
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 10:25 AM UTC
Dancing
On the five headed serpent
Whose fangs represent
Desire, anger, hate, lust and greed,
I see
The blue lord of Vrindavan
His victorious caper
A stark reminder
Of his complete mastery
Over the five poisons of life
Enslaving humanity at large
© 2017
Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 5:53 PM UTC
Early morning birds chirping
Singing melody’s of peace
Looking out into the forest
I see beauty in your face
Africa has a smell that no one can erase
A smell that echos love into your soul
Life so simple, life so inspiring and incredible
Don’t believe what the discovery channel told you about a land that existed before any other
Africa the mother of the earth
Birthing billions of souls
who left it but still live in it
It’s blood runs deep in our souls
Skin shades might change
but our roots are deep Within
When Africa cries we feel it’s pain
When Africa smiles we rejoice with pure joy
Colonizers tried to change it but it changed them
They stole its music, passion, material good, it’s minerals, traditions, and norms
Taking even its greatest queens and kings
Tribal men and women
They tried to **** its joy but it still smiled through the pain
Enslaving it’s people still couldn’t **** it existence
Africa
Birthed in resistance and molded by resilience, inspired by diligence, fueled by consistence
We are strong, powerful, and courageous
Africa the birthplace of the human race
With our palms pressed let’s say Grace
As we pray for peace
Apr 10, 2021
Apr 10, 2021 at 1:16 PM UTC
*She shrinks running on the beach
winds reach her hairs dancing free
smaller she grows far out of reach
around her prance the waves wildly.
Her limps all gone, gone is her ache
she’s now again a pristine child
with sandy footprints skin sunbaked
she catches me in her love beguiled.
In the saline wind her coppered face
stoops for treasure of wave washed pearl
in enslaving thrall of love’s wellness
years wind her back a little girl.
Soon she will be back with worn out shells
boast of her finds from the seashore
never knowing in those moments’ windy sails
she unlocked in me a long locked door.*
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 10:16 AM UTC
Exhaustion is the price of vigilance.
My cats sleep all the time now,
it seems. It hurts
but i understand.
The road has a hypnotic effect
as it gazes back into us all.
The void consumes everything
but becomes nothing,
compressed infinitely smaller,
enslaving particles, photons,
feelings, planets, systems, and
processes.
Feeling isn't saying, and
meaning isn't doing.
Impressions are sculpted into
the granite of our mountains
by the expressions of the
winds.
When the eagles soar overhead
they must all pass through
the wormhole to hunt,
to ****** victory from defeat,
a sustained life from a
final death,
but it is all perspective.
Roadkill live life in the fastlane,
if life is indeed a highway.
Woodland creatures brave existence
only by darting to the other side
of the killzone, timing the gaps,
patiently judging the distance.
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 12:22 PM UTC
Your enslaving smile,
Your beautiful eyes,
Your soft golden hair,
Your jaw-dropping body,
Your gentle voice,
Your overwhelming touch,
All of these things you possess,
Haunt me day and night,
As you flee from my love,
And deny my affections,
My sweet southern runner.
Oct 2, 2011
Oct 2, 2011 at 2:17 AM UTC