This is how to start the beautiful letdown
so get down
no rebound, just sit down
short timing, so explain how
we were to, and supposed to
while I talked to,
don't frown, and anger is not your best dancing gown
was it a game? I read minds
am I to blame? In due time
are you the same? I think better
this shoulder ain't cold, but I'd still grab a sweater
'cuz while you look at me I'll make you shiver
stare in my eyes and I'll make you wetter
hang on my words and savor every letter
enjoy the taste of this moment, for its time is shorter
end of days is the reason I'm the exploiter
So, goodbye goodbye
breathe in a deep sigh, this time
this time
will inevitably pass by, and thus begins
the Beautiful letdown

The Acolytes come marching in and out and in, out again
Minds befuddles, rationalities amissing, fully indoctrinated
Pathetic Dogs of Attrition dressed all in white, all in pain
Compulsive obsessives, neurotics primed and oxygenated
Scrappers at the bottom of the barrel wants unlawful gain
By hook or crook is their recourse, to that they are mandated

From rhetorics long gone and ideologies forged in days of rain
Our intrepid Confused and Acolytes are soundly medicated
Just march to left, left, left, left and we will ease all your pain
Recognize that the enemies are those that think and are educated
They all claim domain at the top, with kudos, status and fame
While you languish in closed barrels, your poor lives truncated

Those Bosses are all there because they are all Masonic inclined
Doctors, lawyers and Professionals paid cash for Degrees granted
They did no work or study, rich Daddies just paid so they claim
All those Entrepreneurs are Robbers who bankraid unarrested
Because the Police are all masonic and help/share in all the gain
The Royals are  Top Mafiosas, with International links atested

So Dumb Acolytes Know the truths and fall with the wise in line
We must regain Power and march left, left so we're not left in vain
The republic shall live because it's 21 Century and we wake in time
We take all from the Secret Society and cut off all our iron chains
Begin by taunting, tormenting and harassing that ****** Wayne
The ****** Prince is the African Mafia Chief and Exploiter kingpin

Sing with me everybody
Viva la Revolution, viva la Revolution
We are clever, all in our White uniforms
We march to the left left left with our two left feet
We know our brains have left us but we go left left
Viva la Revolution, Viva la Revolution, Viva la Jinbba.
Hey! jinbba, jinbaba, hey! jinbba jinbaba, hey! jinbba jinbba
Sing.........

Hold obliquely this bunch of flowers with that smile,
to you my gift, "Exotic", your eyes acknowledge it,
you know how to do it,  so that the selfie we post
would turn many a head, invite likes, though reluctant
needs to be counted as bullets pumped by jealous minds.

Now  listen to this mandatory advice, once more
I shouldn't desist, voicing this in any case.
Don't be generous to me, expecting nothing in return
as I am  your lover, in fact I myself am an exploiter,
who is shameless. isn't it the order of the day?

I am aware, it's bad karma out and out,
yet can't help it, let's be open about it,
now tell me this, how much can I bribe you,
for a grand kiss next, today's last perhaps.

My healer,
the one who rubbed
ointment on my wounds,
calming and relieving the pain.
Who's presence was the epitome
of comfort and love.

Has now become the stealer,
of my happiness
and the exploiter,
of my kindness.

Some people live a charmed life
I haven't
How to live without the worries, the memories overtaking the present?
Just be here
In this moment, everything is OK

Sunday morning
Quiet out, even the freeway sounds are dimmed
My neighbors who get visits from three giant police officers
with weapons, and they all look eight feet tall,
are asleep and quiet for the moment.

Birds outside
I wake up with my coffee and almond milk
A bitter drink, but cruelty free
That is so important to me
After all I have suffered at the hands of others
Not to be an exploiter of a senseate being
Not to ever be like those who hurt and walk away

I go to my half couch
Sit and cover myself with a fuzzy blanket
Little Julietta, my tri-color semi-feral rescue hops up for a pet

There are memories
At 45, I have regrets and pain
and fear of more pain
But not in this moment
In this moment, everything is peaceful
The tormenters are absent
I've run away from them
Excised them from my life
Ignored them, they are all gone
There is a day ahead to live, moment by moment

The flashbacks, the dark thoughts come
Pray, let them pass by like the cars on the distant freeway
To experience them once is not avoidable
To extend that, is
They can float by like clouds on a windy day
There is nothing more to learn from them
No more healing from experiencing their pain

Here.  Now.  Is OK.  That is all we have.

-----------------
These days during my hours alone,
which are plenty, verging on too much,

a superflous use of art intuited
on a thought experience, at speed,

faster fasting, dexamphetamine, ping.

Please deposit, 35 cents, correct change.

Times of dial pay phones with the eights
punched out, some times loads the coin return
from the previous call…

robbing from the rich was Robin Hood cool,
if you could keep from being caught,
Huck Finn was many an old school
exploiter of the frontier's fantasy childhood.

Liars prosper in a liars world.
This here, ain't such a world, this'n's grown
on up past a big ol' burl, took fifty years to form,

I kept it after the Oaks all got some adverse
conditions under civilized industrialized war
preventive chemical suppressants, speed
ding- mind
past
experience, gnost-algia
leave all that old right place pain, home pain,
if it had been as good a childhood, as kins claim
you can ask your lucky stars, or your messenger
face timing Jesus Christ's version of God,
who was experiencing carnal mind suffering so…
---------
I can be born believing my side won.
Who would go through life for thirty years,
and keep the threat of hell as your own fault?
Right, only through fear of death
can our minds be subject to *******.

Secrets start with historical unveilings, esoterica,
etcetera, and so on, says the King of Siam,
if you don't, please.
Sci-psy-psi why phi make French curls,
Plea divine ignorance, take a mind reportedly
let be in the Christ who knocked Saul into Paul,
on the road to the future we shape with our tales,

taken from the riches of the wicked, we get Iyobe
and Gilgamesh from ancient visions written plain
cuneiform, any local tongue, you speak we write,

totally secure, your self is currently swept away,
thinking this is all perfectly otherwise,
turned around and seen as though seen once
the other way,

time in mind outsped time in light's allusion x
zone, right, got my x key back, lost it yesterday.

So, this connects, like I'd planned it, but I didn't,

unless I am right about the state this mind
has experienced, while letting that mind,
from Romans, Google let this mind be,
in you, you'll be assisted intelligently,
- here you read it, as easily as me, being
led to prove, you are polimental, by luck,
too odd for chance alone, your mind
is split right for beauty, left for order,

order, in the court of you, be ready.
Give an answer, what good are you, really.

Realize utilizing all your mind's games
strategy to find the liar's paradise,

when America was Great.

The deals were out of this world,
due to the threat
of thermo-nukes, 'n' commies.

Boy's Life made us ready for the COBALT
bomb, before Sputnik sped up Barry Rudd's
ideas for Starlink, fed into the genes, of Elon's
dad, along
with a worthless self improvement -
selah, settle the real clock on us all, eh,
long now, ashes of intelligence legacy,
in the mindbending sabbath,
dark revitalizing soil, live,
we are all fructifying,
in our roots…
we are all ideas, urges
with god-like umph,
gotta almost demi-ugency, to run,
take the reins and drive this old pony home,

or look into his eyes, and see him know
where he is most happy to carry me,
god sped past my last doubt,
minds think faster than light,

the time is shrinking when my words
come cheap.

I am growing older in todays, one at the time,
and no body can do that through many more

common horizon stretching sneezes,
x  viral intention to concentrate on living honed
to my finest point, to pastlessness, ****. proof.

could this be the final destination
or just another step in the journey?
you and i, and the countless nameless, all
united in struggle—but where, then,
the exclusion, the adversary, the exploiter?
who holds the pen that controls the course of this story?
and is it running out of ink? must we
steal it for our own use? or snap it and
start writing only in pencil or pixels?
or is the paper on fire, opportunity turned to smoke?
perhaps the kingdom of ends and heaven
shall never be inscribed onto the earth,
not even for a brief, hard won daybreak.
divided we stand on the polluted planet,
where walls rise higher and bigger bombs fall daily,
where camps overflow, half starve and so many displaced,
where private capital propels technology
and its shadow of terror and invisible chains,
and genocide is a good price for oil and raw materials.
could this be the final destination
or just another step in the journey?
neither philosophers nor poets can tell us;
if we can find the People, maybe then we'll know.
for now, at least, some of us have tomorrow.

have i spoken of a saviour? rejoice, hear woe.

there is no one to save us, no one to save us:
God was made flesh and died on the cross erected by Empire:
Christ the Rebel murdered, forsaken by Himself,
and a Book brings down Rome;
His suffering image lives on, the Holy Spirit of Resistance lives on
if we choose it: we are absolutely
responsible—absolutely responsible
for our own destiny. wherefore the spear?
it pertains to believers of Truth to move mountains stone by stone.
equality and welfare over wealth!
perhaps it is our turn to cast fire
and we must learn how to set fire to fire itself.

J'ai mal placé mon cœur, j'aime l'enfant d'un autre ;
Et c'est pour m'exploiter qu'il fait le bon apôtre,
Ce petit traître ! Je le sais.
Sa mère, quand je viens, me devine, et l'appelle,
Sentant que je suis là pour lui plus que pour elle,
Mais elle ne m'en veut jamais.

Le marmot prend alors sa voix flûtée et tendre
(Les enfants ont deux voix) et dit, sans la comprendre,
Sa fable, avec expression ;
Puis il me fait ranger des soldats sur la table,
Et m'obsède, et je trouve un plaisir ineffable
À sa gentille obsession.

Je m'y laisse duper toutes les fois : j'espère
Qu'à force de bonté je serai presque un père :
Ne dit-il pas qu'il m'aime bien ?
Mais voici tout à coup le vrai père, ô disgrâce !
L'enfant court, bat des mains, lui saute au cou, l'embrasse,
Et le pauvre oncle n'est plus rien.

Malignant gangrenous political cancer
corrupts, festers, and poisons United States,
thus opposition cannot wait,
especially since Gospel in accordance

with feeble minded Donald Trump
implemented wrought ugly trait,
particularly obliteration, sans progressive
human rights legislation

more or less pronounced positive
in every L ionized Nittany or cotton bowl state
and ratiocination inherent within
mine Democrat oriented mind doth rate

this forty fifth president (defect)
with sawdust packing
his noodle oven egotistical pate
trophy wife (spouse number three),

a Slovenian mate
donning "I don't care anymore"
t-shirt rousing media firestorm of late
essentially silently corroborating,

fostering, and illuminating hate
mutely bolstering the Trump anthem,
viz make America great
again, which pathless,

pithless, and pointless aim
roars like an earsplitting runaway freight
train oblivious of wailing soul asylum,
that no era meets said criteria

backtracking time machine before
rightful indigenous occupants of this land
got decimated as one after another
exploiter did inundate

(comprising a multitude
of indigenous variety of village people
indignantly subjected to Genocide,
when first "discoverer"

of new land didst promulgate
activation wrought deliberate sealed fate
vis a vis capitulation, demolition,
and extirpation, cuz

a scathing rebuke aye attest,
those murderers didst equate
worthlessness of
so called "Indians" on 1492 date,

and still remnants of storied tribes,
now attempt to create
historical documentation operate
ting with limited resources to adjudicate.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Food methinks doth buzzfeed drumbeat agog
at pyrotechnics July 4th, 2018 shared as blog
posts, a falsehood prevails which dog
gone “FAKE” brewed watered down grog
posits that the majority of Colonists stayed hog

tied to strict task masters, and mainly the scant
upper class experienced autonomy,
no matter the under class didst futilely rant
and rave with the occasional
uprisings over time did grant
minimal appeasement to stifle violent kant.

Alas and alack
though reasonable rhyme crafted some time back
spider lines across Democratic firmament
issue more'n one crack.

How alarming that tempus fugit
decrees trumpets about banishing true grit
life, liberty and pursuit of happiness
deprived genius and/or nitwit
will witness divine creator placing obit
freedoms long since perished,
how pleasant to be hashtagged a twit!

Fred Trump taught his sole son Donald
how to steal the leading way into more ***,
though no hint given, nor prediction forecast
in his growing up years, that would foretell,
thru base anaphylactic cronyism, egotistical
gall insidious kleptomania call, malodorous

Machiavellian offal obnoxious quintessential
skullduggery, unfair wicked yik yak zeal
to wield selfishness, a mean mogul with brass,
who would unstintingly live up to his surname,
and trump every law in the books of jurisprudence
and crass bend avast set of constitutional laws
to feed his ferocious fealty to the all mighty dollar

flaunting, fleecing, and flipping  the welfare
of those (he deemed must serve him
his insatiable hunger) to connive, dictate,
and expedite his hell bent assiduity,
an empire fit for a King, who felt no aversion
to mollycoddle, peddle, and wheedle

any zealous contractual obligation
(immediately abrogated), and concoct fabrications
vis a vis, a visa versa MasterCard his
American Express shun re: the art of the raw
FitBit (if necessary browbeating, depriving,
forfeiting meting out legally obligated pay

whenever an inconvenient truth awoke
in his noggin reneging fiduciary promises
to the risk-taking, moon shining, toiling citizens
ala Indian giving per many an unfair deal
exuding crass with especial treatment
to withhold wages for his (held in check)

Polish laborers, who built his city on rock and rolling
stock – so a Starship emblazoned with
outsize ego of an exploiter with no pay
to his backbreaking Polish construction
motley crue nor even mucho grassy us
for erecting his empire now ranked in
billions of dollars unfairly pointing a finger

to berate, dictate and finagle foreigners
(illegal immigrants, he would now boot
out of this country) to carry out drudgery
with hungry stomachs growling at slave wages,
lamentably plodding since any other employer
might question their vlsa status, hence anger
boils within this generic human enraged

his wealth squeezed from every last drop
of said craftsman, now if still alive old and
broken men crushed by the mighty
self proclaimed dictator of the proletariat,
whose hollow being blind sides those
he stares down, yet beware all that glitters ain't gold!

I talk to the plants, they say they are bored
I wonder why I am not them.

I feel jarred by the pollution, marred by the confusion;
so profound and superficial in human things.

If I were a soil perhaps?
Wait, I am. Which type, they say?

I tell them, I will become the soil that will grow them (plants) in all adversities
That I shall never be concrete

That as I return to being who I always were - a soil.
I will never betray plants - the sole ally in this world,
And perhaps also in the after?

But does that realm require soil to grow plants, I ruminate.

Plants tell me to have patience, to breathe;
One day when they turn trees, they will give elixir of wisdom.
In that promise, I lived for this realm as much as I wished to run to another.
But the trees make life more bearable, otherwise I would have long left.

No matter how bad the atrocities, nature never stopped giving to its exploiter;
We called it abuse, nature called it existence.
The tree is humble, it is growing in stillness, no matter what is inflicted.

They are the sole reason, hope exists on this side of the veil.
If the trees can endure humans, why cannot I?

Of course I can and with that thought another moment in time, in epochs, goes by.