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Chloe K Aug 2014
Tonight
I feel convex,
breathing wilted air
into deflating lungs.
Easing into oneself
is kinder on the fingernails
than hugging empt.
Wallflowers bloom
into streetlamps;
peripheries
maintain order.
Bowling ball bumper lanes
are immortal.
Pearson Bolt Sep 2015
now don't get me wrong
i love wordsmiths
semiotic story-tellers
rhapsodists rhythmically reciting
love languages from memory
connecting disparate lines
between discordant thoughts like
gods breathing life into dust

for these steel swords we've
conjured up do not rust
nor do they cut flesh

with mouths like ink fountains
we espouse words at the whims
of pens that often seem possessed
of their own volition and
we are their mere harbingers

they slice to the quick
past bone and marrow to
the human spirit and
tap into sentience through
sophisticated sentence structure
measured meter catalyzing cadences
of consonance in confidence

so by all means
spit rhymes and chime in
on current events
i love the rally cries
that seek to stymy injustice
ridicule bigotry and
foment dissent

but don't preach at me
your words of salvation
fall on deaf ears
you cannot save me
because i'm already divine
one-of-a-kind
just like you

i don't fancy myself above
satirizing fictitious and megalomaniacal
depictions of godhood
i've found that humor
helps us navigate the
half-truths and veiled threats
that inundate our daily existence
regardless of whether
they originate from
preachers politicians pundits
or poets

****-shaming and victim-blaming
are pathetic attempts to cull dull minds
no thanks mine's full to the bursting
you think you're clever for slapping
together a couple of words brewed
for maximum effect but you haven't
got the faintest clue do you no

you're nothing but a bully with a pulpit
fearmongering and shouting damnation
mixing Church and State and business
in a trifecta of tyranny
an orgastic oligarchy
of eternal enmity

when we die we pass
into the black abyss of nothingness
each of us a blip on the spectrum of
life under constant duress
before we ultimately perish
a meaningless speck of dust on
an endless shore of who was
who is and who will come to be

this is not a nihilistic proclamation
nor an atheistic defamation of
human beings but a rational
refutation of misanthropy
masquerading as community

your love looks a lot like hatred

i seek to offer an alternative
to the endless cycles of
condemnation that sprout from
the pages of holy books
like gnarled trees bequeathed
unto us by the seeds
of false prophecies

let's face the music
we will all die alone
and there is nothing
and no one
waiting for us
no white light or
loved ones on
the other side
no arbiter of fate
waiting at the gate
to permit us entrance
to a heavenly place

if we could only muster the courage
to divorce ourselves from fatalistic
fantasies of the afterlife
that keep us bent-kneed
we might find within us the strength
to seize the day and
live life so brilliantly that

we'd create a heaven on earth
if merely we departed from the
hellish impulses that divide us
into despondent collections of
self-righteous hypocrites and
simply admit the only thing we
know for certain is that we
know nothing for certain at all

perhaps then we could salvage
a modicum of freedom from
the wreckage of shattered
egos and emaciated lies
that plague this planet
with circumstantial evidence
while relegating our liberty
and inhibiting conscience

in the spirit of free inquiry
then let us question
everyone and everything
starting with yours truly
I love spoken word and slam poetry, but sometimes the hyper-religious odes wear on me. This is an expression of that ire.
Michael Marchese Oct 2016
Fellow Americans
     Won't is not can't
           We can end this tirade
                This ignorant rant
           Neo-**** crusade
      This fearmongering
Xenophobic campaign
      This point your fat finger
           Take none of the blame
                 This **** flinging ape
            This bombastic baboon
       Rotting all of our brains
Like a ****** cartoon
       This email distraction
            For no course of action
                 Except the word "jobs"
            And a Twitter war faction
        This sick, twisted joke
This comedy act
         Dropping the curtain
             On matters of fact
                 This tax-dodging fraud
             Has stolen from you
         So what makes you think
You're a part of his coup  
         This billion-airhead
             Makes no cents at all
                  He speaks his small mind
             Behind a big wall
        This nuclear bomb
  To diplomacy's voice
        Aborting the right
             To democracy's choice
                  This false god complex
              Disguises his devil
         Deceptions to drag us
Back down to his level
         This Molotov cocktail
              In Putin's back pocket
                  His greedy heart froze
              In a cold-plated locket
          This coal-blackened soul
Toxic demagogue
         Keeps poisoning us
              By spewing speech-smog  
                   This climate change hoax
              Outweighs all the lies
         Deny this one truth
  And everyone dies
         This you're fired show
              Outsources our trust
                   To Chinese steel towers
              Of slave-labor rust
        This loaded handgun
To sanity's head
        Depravity bullets
              Promoting bloodshed
                   This locker room talk
              This all Muslim ban
        This election is rigged
This ******* madman
        This antithesis
              Of all we stand for
                   Great from our first steps
              Onto Liberty's shore
        So I beg of you now
Vote him off of the stage
        This dog's had his day
              Put him back in his cage
                   This nation was founded
              By working together
        And those who attempt
To divide us shall never
        Condemn our ideals
             To an amoral fate
                    Lest we forget
                         That love always trumps hate
B Young Nov 2015
Fading falling daguerreotypes
litter the Montmarte of
my fuzzy imagination, after
Isis bombs a train station.
Polizei! Polizei! Polizei!
Gendarmerie! Gendarmerie! Gendarmerie!
Help! I...they need somebody, in three
Separate languages, can't the world see?
The capital is under seige.
What's next,
But the predictable.
Fear, fearmongering, fearmonsters,
Fuckit,
What's now,
Give 'em all a beer.
C'est la guerre
JB Claywell Nov 2015
People act like they are only allowed to or capable of using one line of thought at a time, or that negates all the other thoughts or something. Not me, baby, not me. It’s not like I can’t want the Syrian refugees to be well tended to while at the same time wishing we would do more for our veterans, returning, homeless, disabled or otherwise. Hell, I wish we’d feed our kids and take care of our elderly and mind our footing and everything else too. But, just because I’ve got some of my focus pointed here or there, doesn’t mean I don’t see everything else as well. Really, in the grand scheme of things, to me, this whole thing with the refugees is about being human and treating other humans, humans that have lost virtually everything, like humans, because they deserve to be treated like humans.
We squawk about red cups and refugees, we grouch about taking Christ out of Christmas. We complain that we don’t do enough for homeless vets, or hungry kids, or whatever. But, the remedy is to do what you can, when you can, and how ever you’re able. Next month, I’m going to a local venue to “Rock For Tots”. I’ll get to see some pals, hear some good music, and help some kids get a better Christmas. That’s how I’m keeping my faith, some faith, any faith this holiday season. And, don’t be so foolish to think that I’m saying that the only faith I have is in the local music scene or some such nonsense, but it is a place to start because it’s full of good people trying to do a good thing and they’ll get it done.
Maybe that’s the point here. Maybe we should see our opportunities to do good stuff in the world like I’m seeing this town’s local music scene right now. It’s pretty simple really, just do a good thing, be a good person, and try to make a difference here and there.
To say that all Muslims are terrorists is stupid, and fearmongering has no place here anymore. It never has. To say that we are “One Nation Under God, Not Allah!” and to ask me to “like and share” that kind of simplemindedness makes me wonder if you understand what America is demographically and how it got that way in the first place.
I’m an American. I’m pretty sure I’m a Christian. (I’m trying real hard to be the shepherd, Ringo.) I know that I’m an Earthling, just like you, and I also know that I’m a Humanist. (If I see a human being out there that I can help; I’m giving it a shot. Hell, it’s what I do for a living.)
‪#‎Hashtags‬ ain’t gonna cut it, friends. We created this country with action. We’re a nation of thinkers, dreamers, and ultimately doers. We get it done, son!
So, do whatever good you can, when you can. If you don’t do that, it’s like not voting…you don’t get to *****.
In the meantime…
I’ll see ya out there.
-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublications; (2015)
Keith W Fletcher Aug 2017
Appalled by the execution
Of the implied devaluation
Bringing down the hopeless rage
Upon all those tainted by implication

I stand in visible observation
With no shield or aberration
To lay blame for my inclination
To find fault in your need for polarization

No left or right or up down
Flows in natural light through my being
I am extant in my word and deed
So blame yourself if you fail...in seeing

That in the most unimagined
Set of convoluted circumstances
I am simply your own reflection...uninspired
By your lack of need ..to learn by taking chances

But even i will not follow you.... into
The depths of your morbidity
If you seek to drag along those poor lost sheep
Into your hatred and fearmongering obscenity

I stand ...
For all...those
... who you knock down!
Bob B Oct 2018
The 2018 election approaches.
Trump is carrying forth his plan
To stoke the fears of his base by talking
About a threatening caravan.

A caravan, he says, is coming,
Bringing bad people to the States.
It won't be long, he says, before
They'll be knocking on our gates.

Trump's M.O. is fearmongering.
He's always been so good at that!
When the "wrong" people show up,
You quickly remove the welcome mat.

This election's about Justice
Kavanaugh, he also says--
Kavanaugh who happens to have
Something in common with the pres.

Ironically, that which they have
In common is--without a doubt--
Something a decent person would
Certainly not be bragging about.

Trump also says this election
Is all about common sense,
Of which he has very little.
One thing we know: his ego's immense.

He's NOT talking about how he
Is chipping away at our health care,
Or how he gave tax breaks to
The wealthy. No, he wouldn't dare.

Or how he put us deeper in debt,
So the Republicans now will say,
We have to go after benefits.
To help the rich, someone must pay.

He isn't wrong when he maintains
That this election is all about him.
The GOP is the Party of Trump.
If they win, the future looks grim.

-by Bob B (10-23-18)
daffodil May 2020
robotic rhythm ebbs and flows
like a well-oiled machine
but you still know it’s a machine
the same voice for a hundred men
proves the falsehood within
your attempts to be relatable
with the dips in pitch you can’t cover it
oh how I’m sick of hearing this
the same songs on repeat
you realise your words lose meaning
when you speak them so often
I switch off when I hear your voice
nothing new to say it’s all the same
your repetitions are offensive
don’t you think we deserve better?
what is this achieving?
do you think you’re helping?
your fearmongering is weakened
your phony supportive sense of solidarity
we’ve turned cold to your tone
I can’t hear those words anymore
they can’t penetrate the wall
the forcefield I’ve created
to protect myself from losing my mind
that’s enough from you and your
robotic rhythm, your ebbs and flows
you know, we all know you’re a machine
Free from distractions,
plain to see media is bad news,
fake news,  covid fearmongering hysteria,
cover ups exposed all propaganda,
Media just ate itself,
no longer distracts me from true power.
The only thing to fear, is fear itself,
accounts deleted,
no longer of any account,
Like Maria Madalena,
she found ecstatic union,
with her Lord, in  her cave.

Turning  back on the world,
of substances, illusion, temptation of flesh.
No temptation.
Realised purity and true love,
cannot be found in decaying tomb.
Christ is not with the dead, He has risen.
I sought my Lord in earthly love,
Strong men came,usurped me.
satellite of Love, small cascaded to big,
Earthly love, redirected my will,
from my Maker husband's Will.
Nothing is bigger than God,
waiting for Him to rise in 'in' again,
Third time lucky,
three times,
Will at Will  evermore,
My Maker is my husband.
Freedom in Lockdown,
from her cave the underground stream flows,
Here rose the Living Word,
the fountain of knowledge,
the way out, is the way in.
Thank you God for showing me the Truth.
Thank you for sending me your Son,
Thank you Mother, your example of love and purity,
holds the dragon underfoot.
With your mantle of protection,
and my Dad holding my hand.
Purity,  strength to overcome the battle.
The Risen Word, is the Fountain of knowledge.
We always had Love.
Zion finds rest.
When Christ said 2000 years ago the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand, why did we ignore this Truth.  He conquered death with this realisation.
The Serpent becomes a rod, We have to reach God in Spirit,Our Dad knows who has achieved this truth.
Found my star, my crown, my medallion, my multicoloured dream coat, with straightened rod I raised my flag. Found true love. Polishing my inner cup, cleaning the golden throne within.
Make straight the way for the Lord.
He sent me two eagles. third time happened, then there were four. Who am I?

— The End —