"fees" poems
Imagine that
I could write a salve,
compose an ointment of verbal herbs to heal,
even mere protect the already-torn-so-easy mental flesh,
just to disguise/hide the multi-colored bruising our
fickle mistress-in-common provides when you are down so far
another bruise joining the cast like a floodplain subsuming one more feeding creek bed into the shapelessness of indistinguishability
imagine that
where atoms hide eternal between creation and destruction,
borrow brief the set exact you require to restore the taken years
from fathers/mothers/brothers/sisters,
children,
return that which went unused by the uninvited, unseemly human whim of war and lies for no gain
imagine that
the deep sinkhole of despair that ***** one in, years in the formation, appearing in instance, and worse does not drowns but leaves helpless, unable to climb out, and all our scratching digs us in deeper until we cannot be, seen or heard or just be
imagine that
a check comes in the mail, payable left open for filling-in,
in the amount of full restoration, with no additional fees of guilt needed for deposit and cashing/caching out: and you wake up
and the stony chest is breathing lungs free
imagine that
and I do; for I am the smoke of return and rest, sky inscribing,
knowing precise needs and the screams and the years unfair taken,
they are screened through the five perceptions, and the word weaver
sets the loom for each peculiar requisition, no imagination needed
imagine that
you lament and anger demand verifiable proofs mathematical,
cursing the knights of false hopes with untethered regret
I do not imagine that; hear it and accept; my task, imagine that, making you imagine that, thus commencement of repair begins
when
we imagine that
for this how new healthy cells are born
quiet-now, go, imagine-that, now*
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 1:02 PM UTC
This is Nigeria
This is Nigeria; presidency turns sick leave.
This is Nigeria; one-sided democracy.
Double standard constitution, everything is dazy.
This is Nigeria; police bus be calling crowd.
Enter and become cowed.
This is Nigeria; best graduating student gets a thousand naira.
This is Nigeria; I hope we can differentiate between private and public institutions.
Lackadaisical attitudes everywhere, except religion institutions.
This is Nigeria; over a year strike in our foremost sector but it's a norm.
Corruption; a living form.
This is Nigeria; education is dull.
This is Nigeria; economy problem is solved by increased school fees.
Such government still gets a second term. Madness; it's our liss.
This is Nigeria; lot of resources but we still pray for light.
Food, security and rights.
This is Nigeria; lecturers give grades anyhow.
This is Nigeria; Animal is swallowing money.
In a government with the main aim of fighting corruption, it's funny.
This is Nigeria; politicians changing parties.
Playing with our lives like they're *******
Peter Oyebanji (PIRO)
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 5:38 AM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
It is the 30th day of the months in Kenya
State and corporate capitalist have now paid their workers
Wages or salaries or stipends or emoluments all being remunerations
While the rural bourgeoisie and urban bourgeoisie have also paid ex-gratia
To relatives come over-aged workers who have declined retiring
For the fear of looming starvation if at all they go home, where they were born,
Nonetheless; proceed they receive will do nothing whatsoever
As it will be stifled by the monster of desperate consumerism;
So fat and gullible in this tiger of land in the region called Kenya;
The terror peddling rent, courtesy of ruthlessness of the landlord
Bills of electric power in their full monopolistic gear
Bills of water devoid of quality, indifferent dysentery monger
Wages for maid who keep on usurping the food of my child; milk
Bills for gas, all of it redolent of comprador bourgeoisie in fashion,
Hotel and bar bill - a surreptious one, as the bar girl only knows
Airtime and renewal, TV channels and other screen capitalistic ploys
Family trip to local resort in a feat of foolish consumerist venture,
Money to the old mother at home and, sometimes depraved but patient father
ARV’s money to my *** aids stricken sister at the village, my aunt also
Tuition fees for my son at the kindergarten, who goes to schools but learns nothing
fees balance which my wife has to pay at the tailor to ransom out her dress,
M-Pesa and M-Swari loan repayment, this only for Kenyan 30th dayers
They know the agony of dealing with Kenyan mega-capitalist safaricom ltd.
This consumerism and **** consumerism,
It is the menacing bane of the Kenyan poor
It is the avaricious tube which siphons back
The hard earned money from pockets of the poor
Back to despotic account of the pitiless world pigshotry.
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 9:35 AM UTC
Imperfections, Imperfections, Imperfections
Imperfections,
Imperfections, Imperfections.
That's all that she sees.
Looking at the mirror,
Markin herself up,
With a thousand fees.
Sees something that,
She don't like,
She has to workout,
Go for a hike.
She doesn't like,
The way she looks.
Gonna fix herself up,
With some needles and hooks.
Sees everything bad,
Though she looks good.
But some people knock her down,
Knowing she'd call the vultures to pick her for food.
But what she don't get,
About herself,
Is that a high opinion of you,
Is true wealth.
Also she must think,
About others.
Tell an obese woman,
That you are the fat one when you stand in-font of her.
Tell the starving boy,
That you're the scrawny dude.
Tell the average American,
You eat too much food.
Think about what you say,
Cause someone might have it worse.
Don't say you want to die,
Like the dear family member in the hearse.
Remember that the perfection of something,
Is what you think is right.
But how can anything be so,
When we have all lost sight?
Dec 1, 2011
Dec 1, 2011 at 7:39 PM UTC
One day tears will hit my cheeks - raging hail and empty streets.
One day joy will kiss my lips - soft balloon and vacation trips.
One day sickness will swell my throat - fevered flesh and ***** coats.
One day health will sing my song - common loon and acquitted wrongs.
One day weakness will force me down - rusty bridge and broken crowns.
One day strength will lift my arms - solid rock and dairy farms.
One day fear will eat my heart - barking dog and missing parts
One day faith will keep my beat - mustard seed and new feats.
One day pain will fill my core - blazing fire and open sores.
One day love will lead my legs - kind words and scrambled eggs.
One day hate will my itch my knees - long distance and sneaky fees.
One day peace will tickle my toes - green grass and escaping prose.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 11:08 AM UTC
Have you met the Who-Gee Boo-Gee Man?
He scammed fig leafs in the garden,
And **** cloth in Ottoman.
outside-in, inside-out; upside-down, right-side up
The Who-gee Boo-gee Man can cuss.
He offers snake oil, spins a tale,
So you feel smart, healthy and hale.
from top to bottom, bottom to top
The Who-gee Boo-gee Man can't stop.
He swrawls with a Sharpie pen.
right is left, left is wrong
That's the Who-Gee Boo-Gee song.
Consultation for now is free,
No hidden added extra fees:
You buy two, you get three.
north to south, east to west
The Who-Gee Boo-Gee Man won't rest.
I've heard his feet are cloven;
The eyes are yellow, lips look swollen;
He has two fingers, wears silk- woven.
He sweats like water to the lowest level;
He's quicker than the slyest devil,
Selling hell, but we hear heaven;
Doing so twenty-four seven.
He photo-shops secret desires,
Twists truth-tellers into liars;
Artful, wily, scheming, subtle,
The Who-Gee Boo-Gee's a hungry jackal.
*today is the day, yesterday's late,
tomorrow's a place that just won't wait*
I met up with the Who-Gee Boo-Gee Man,
Peddling apples from my jardain.
Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 10:26 AM UTC
Pizza--the only I want to poor my feelings onto
Because when I think of its filling capacity--
Its carb-heavy, fat drenched, and sugary-savory goodness--
I honor the people who continue the artisinal craft.
Pizza--it's the food for all hungers.
It fills you with energy when you're high,
Just after a win with a cheery, rowdy gang of five.
It's the traditional topping on the pie.
Pizza--All and everything, when the time calls.
When the emptiness cannot be filled,
Let it be filled with years of associations.
All in good company, Pizza, my best friend.
So I met a new person today--quiet and resourceful,
She was counting her inventory,
Solving a problem set or learning a new trick.
I barged in while she put aside her life for mine.
She said, "What may you have, sir?"
"A medium with pepperoni," I said, "and linguica, please".
That was all that's said as she carried on her fees.
"That'll be $18.05," and a shot of guilt charged me.
Pizza, though poor my feelings how expensive the taste!
When, just then, she collected the money
The pizza was all too simply done and I was on my way.
I was the one left, saying, " Well, enjoy your weekend!"
But as I drove and the pizza aromatized,
Neither she nor I were free from capitalized.
A self-disciplined pizza artist, stripped of her dough,
Like the boy who made chocolate with a molinillo.
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 2:40 AM UTC
You draw me gently near
Letting me know I have nothing to fear
Your touch soothing as a breeze
You've set my beating heart at ease
But before I was so close to you
A bridge had to be set
To link our great divide
Yes it was you
Who paid my debt
And sent Your Son who died
It was Him they did seize
When it should've been me
Twasn't but ordinary fees
But still You thought it worth your Son to save humanity
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 3:16 PM UTC
She was vengeful.
But against whom could she retribute her vengeance?
The rich guy who ***** her and ruined her life?
The police for harassing her in the name of interrogation?
Lawyers who tormented her and ***** her all over again with the twenty questions?
The inconsiderate jury who were bent on paying their children's school fees?
The lab assistant for lying to the jury that she had absolutely no sign of being ***** and she was making this up only because she got pregnant in the act?
The parents and teachers of the evil vandal who made him that way?
The media who were more interested in making it to the front page rather than sympathizing with her?
The government for taking safety precautions so lightly?
Neighbours who looked her down with contempt?
Or herself for not being strong enough to protect herself.
Whom could she blame?
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 1:34 PM UTC
Under silver wing
San Francisco's towers sprouting
thru thin gas clouds,
Tamalpais black-breasted above Pacific azure
Berkeley hills pine-covered below--
Dr Leary in his brown house scribing Independence
Declaration
typewriter at window
silver panorama in natural eyeball--
Sacramento valley rivercourse's Chinese
dragonflames licking green flats north-hazed
State Capitol metallic rubble, dry checkered fields
to Sierras- past Reno, Pyramid Lake's
blue Altar, pure water in Nevada sands'
brown wasteland scratched by tires
Jerry Rubin arrested! Beaten, jailed,
coccyx broken--
Leary out of action--"a public menace...
persons of tender years...immature
judgement...pyschiatric examination..."
i.e. Shut up or Else Loonybin or Slam
Leroi on *** gun rap, $7,000
lawyer fees, years' negotiations--
SPOCK GUILTY headlined temporary, Joan Baez'
paramour husband Dave Harris to Gaol
Dylan silent on politics, & safe--
having a baby, a man--
Cleaver shot at, jail'd, maddened, parole revoked,
Vietnam War flesh-heap grows higher,
blood splashing down the mountains of bodies
on to Cholon's sidewalks--
Blond boys in airplane seats fed technicolor
Murderers advance w/ Death-chords
Earplugs in, steak on plastic
served--Eyes up to the Image--
What do I have to lose if America falls?
my body? my neck? my personality?
June 19, 1968
4.5k
"Lost love spell caster voodoo spells"
The spammy text-posts read
Let's write them off, as so much bunk
That nobody would heed.
"Love marriage specialist
in Ahmedabad" said another
Finally you could be betrothed
And satisfy your mother!
Voodoo spells and marriage vows
For only a few rupees,
The challenges of life, all quickly solved,
With very modest fees.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 11:25 PM UTC
is it normal
to stand in my bathroom
for ten minutes
at 2:20 a.m.
pepper spray in hand
door locked
listening for footsteps
waiting for my breathing
to become less ragged
so i can run into my bedroom
check my closet
and under my bed
for monsters that only
come from my head?
is it normal to stare into the mirror
crying
wondering if that's really you in it
because you don't recognize
your own reflection
after checking behind
the shower curtain at least four times?
there's a reason i never want
to live alone.
is it normal that
even when i am alone
it fees like i am being watched
cameras, mirrors, windows of houses and people on the street.
they're waiting to laugh at me
or ****** me
or kidnap me
or stare at me
the list goes on.
everyone is out to get me
which i know isn't true
but that doesn't make
the feeling
go away.
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 5:28 AM UTC
seedy motels crowded with undesirables
shooting up
smoking ****
toothless ******** for a fix
welcome to America
home of the brave
and the crack den
what a beautiful country ours is
majestic purple mountains
slick black tar ******
amber waves of grain
skid row and soup kitchens
the struggle to survive
we fight to stay alive
land of the free
but free has hidden fees
free love?
Aids'll stop ya
free health care?
Get out you ****** *******
free speech?
Only if you don't mind mace
Here the dom in freedom means **********
********** of the free
we go through it all like marionettes
glassy eyed and blank faces
our strings pulled by wealthy men
we become older and older until death
and don't forget the debt
that will be your children's problem
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 4:00 AM UTC
Give me my scallop shell of quiet,
My staff of faith to walk upon,
My scrip of joy, immortal diet,
My bottle of salvation,
My gown of glory, hope’s true gage,
And thus I’ll take my pilgrimage.
Blood must be my body’s balmer,
No other balm will there be given,
Whilst my soul, like a white palmer,
Travels to the land of heaven;
Over the silver mountains,
Where spring the nectar fountains;
And there I’ll kiss
The bowl of bliss,
And drink my eternal fill
On every milken hill.
My soul will be a-dry before,
But after it will ne’er thirst more;
And by the happy blissful way
More peaceful pilgrims I shall see,
That have shook off their gowns of clay,
And go apparelled fresh like me.
I’ll bring them first
To slake their thirst,
And then to taste those nectar suckets,
At the clear wells
Where sweetness dwells,
Drawn up by saints in crystal buckets.
And when our bottles and all we
Are fill’d with immortality,
Then the holy paths we’ll travel,
Strew’d with rubies thick as gravel,
Ceilings of diamonds, sapphire floors,
High walls of coral, and pearl bowers.
From thence to heaven’s bribeless hall
Where no corrupted voices brawl,
No conscience molten into gold,
Nor forg’d accusers bought and sold,
No cause deferr’d, nor vain-spent journey,
For there Christ is the king’s attorney,
Who pleads for all without degrees,
And he hath angels, but no fees.
When the grand twelve million jury
Of our sins and sinful fury,
‘Gainst our souls black verdicts give,
Christ pleads his death, and then we live.
Be thou my speaker, taintless pleader,
Unblotted lawyer, true proceeder,
Thou movest salvation even for alms,
Not with a bribed lawyer’s palms.
And this is my eternal plea
To him that made heaven, earth, and sea,
Seeing my flesh must die so soon,
And want a head to dine next noon,
Just at the stroke when my veins start and spread,
Set on my soul an everlasting head.
Then am I ready, like a palmer fit,
To tread those blest paths which before I writ.
3.7k
I'm Outstanding in a field
While out standing in a field
....with these teachers
C̵͍̞̓̄r̸̛͖̣͙̋̀ë̵̝͔́ä̶͎͕͉̈́t̶̢̠̍ͅǔ̵̹̠̖̊͠r̴̜̙̗̊̀e̷̡̢̜̕s̵͖͚̒̿ and prophets
You'd think its an easy hike,
but its more seagoing
I see, means my ego pre-going:
Just Color coding as another motif to talk with
No Shovel loading this buffer coating some mock spit
Of Sirrus winds and summer loving...
Was it other living or utter loathing?
No component, Native I'm Buffaloing
Icarus took the fire and I took the flowin
We've got the water ̶̧̧̼̖͙͔̹̻͕͖̠̤̓͊̆͋̐̓͂̄̊̚̕͠r̵͍͔̮͒̿̎́̊̈́͝ ũ̸͖͇̟̯̅̌̈́̕͠ n̵̲̤̙̜̑̑̽͑ n̵̡̺̪͎̯̫͐́̉͜͜ ì̷̺͍̹́̓̈́ ṉ̸̣̪͓̗̤́̈̊̈́̀ g̵͓̲̺̙̘̤̞̦̺̥̓͋̈̇͌̈́̃́͂̍͝
Is it fear or love?
Got the mother-loving
is it dear or turtle-dove?
Talking in terms of
inhaling foxglove
Stuck in the mud asking:
What's the size of....
What are we in the Light of?
Still:
Growing like a d̶̰̊̿̈́̓̿̿̑̈́͆̈̅̕a̵̻̤̒̅͛̿̀̎͘i̷͎̜̰̯͆̏̚s̵̡̢̼̺̬̬̖͚̦͍̠͑̀̀̃̀͌́͛̈́̌͝ȳ̴̞͖͓̝̥̭̥̖̑͋̔̎̀͗͘ ̸̢̪͍̠͕̩̥̒̍̓͋̈̐͊̂̎̓͝ ̵̡͇̳̦̦̥̰̝̐͐͌̐̓͐̈̏̀͘̕ ̶̡̨̟̼̺̺̝͇̍̀̓̓̏͌́͗̓̂͆͠
Growing like my Day Be
more than Dimebag lately
Growling like I'm Day Z̶̯̲̹̠̙̊̏́͗̿̎̅͗͐̿̃
Standing tall // Just Massing Nation
Is it all in my Imagination?
Fountain passion Claim free
Mountain Fashioned hazily
Passion Painting with Green Sea
Ripples passing freely through the sword
I be puffin on a horn like G̶̹͎̓̄̃͛͂͐͐a̵̻͕͔̯̹̿̕͝b̶̧̛͔̙͙̰̭̯̥̩̉̅̅̿̂̃r̴̝̞͎͂͗̈ĭ̴̘̈́̄̽̃͂̑́̈́͘͠ȩ̷̞̹̮̃̑̌͛̂́̀͝ḷ̶̢̡̭̫͉̬͇̀͜ ̸͚̳̘̜̫̱͖͂̇̓̈́̂̽͂̀̒
(Pfu du duu do duuuu)
Tougher than....
~imagining_
All the rougher
when we matching wings
Most people here
~just gather things_
Always stuffing torn like here we go:
(̷̛̰̼͕̰͊̂͆̿̅̀͝F̴̧̛͎͎̹͕̬͔͉̃͆̄̎͛̈͋͆̓̇͝ͅū̸̪͎̦̻͕̼͉̼͇̤̄̀̏̓̅͗͌ ̸̧͚̝̟͎̺̝̱͉̓͝ḑ̷̧̰̞̪̥͊̈̑̑̔͋͐͜͝͝ų̵̢̮̙͙̭̫̤̤̖̽̄̈́̀͒̅̀̕͜͝͠ ̷̨̨̥̩̘̱̘̓̉̈̈͌̃͊́̾̚͘d̷̺͛͂̏͑̂͛̊͛͘͝u̷̧͉̹̟͎͉̎̓̎̌ú̵̢̪̺̱̥͆̅́̄̈́̈̚͝ ̷̨̝̥̫̣̻͚̍̍͊͛͌̃͌̀̆̃̚͜͠ḑ̵̡̛͚͚̩͓̼̲͇̮͑̃̅͗̿̓͐͝ͅõ̵̢̰͎̹̥̫̺͍̎́͌̓ ̵͚̺̼͇͔̻̫͇̤̆̔͛͐͆̀̚͝ḑ̴̻̪̉̍͌̽̿̚̚̚ͅư̶̛̘͔̹̰̈́͒͑̍͐̎̈̈́̒͜û̶̬̮̙͍̺̬̯̻͚̺͌̂̌ͅu̴̞̫͓̭̮̽̽͌̊̄̃̔̎̃͘͠͠ŭ̷͎̎̉̆̈́̚͠)̷͖͔͔̤̗̋͛͜
Come and tumble
Hear how can it sing...
All the colors, Smatterings
Can't muck with my energy
Mastered the art of astral projection
Grinding rice with mortar and pestle
Just to Vortex the best view
Motor no next to you
Torn from the best of true
R̶̯̞͕̭͠͝e̴̳̗̍͒ͅä̷͎̬́̀̋̂̕l̴̼͇̗̈́̿̈ỉ̶̙͔̤̓t̵̩͚͎̥͕͓̍̏̌̉ẏ̸̫͌ worn for the rest of you.
Rolling free with no potent fees
Taking liberties with the energies
Got the water ̶̧̧̼̖͙͔̹̻͕͖̠̤̓͊̆͋̐̓͂̄̊̚̕͠r̵͍͔̮͒̿̎́̊̈́͝R ũ̸͖͇̟̯̅̌̈́̕͠ Un̵̲̤̙̜̑̑̽͑ Nn̵̡̺̪͎̯̫͐́̉͜͜ Nì̷̺͍̹́̓̈́ Nṉ̸̣̪͓̗̤́̈̊̈́̀Gg̵͓̲̺̙̘̤̞̦̺̥̓͋̈̇͌̈́̃́͂̍͝
Is it fear or love?
Got the mother-loving
is it dear or dote?
More like do or don't.
Floating on the shore like: Heeere we go.
Blowing on a horn with Gabriel :
(̴̨̳̙͕̲̤̮͕̖̅͐̄̍͒́̎̋̌̈́̾͑̆͑̊̿̃̓͛̓̒͘͜͝F̴̧̢̨̹͎̖̼̝͚̤̥̖̰̭͕̳̖̩̘̜̝̩̟̠̩̝̘̰͎̜̮͖̓̏̾̔̉͗̈́̕͝ͅͅ ȗ̶̡̳͕̘̲̜̳͖͉͇̮̟̪̬̜̜̩̥̻̝̭͓̥̍̍͂̈͆̉͗̎̈́͗̓́̑͊̋́͗̿͐̍̏̋̓̓͊̿̚͠ ̷̢̧̹͙̫̜̝̲͖̹̪͓̲̫̟̹͎̖̦̝̳̙͎͍͍̱̳̼̗͎̻͖̰̘̻͈̲͌̏̐̽̀̉̇̒͗́͑́͑͐̈͌̿͐̍̒̒̌̀̈͑̃̅͋̌͛͂̔́̀̍́̎̅̚̚͘͝ͅͅḑ̶̧̢͇͎͖̝̠͈͍̫̰̝̯͔͉̝͓͚̭͖̻͓̗̬̺̞̖͈̜͍̹̜̺̩͈̃̎̀̂͂́̀͂̄̐̍̆̈́́̈́̈̏̈́̉̿͒͋̈́̓̾̍̆̍̈͊͂̐̒̀̚͜͝͝͝͝ û̷͚̻̟̰͈̒̊͒̀̿̾͋̒͌̊̾̇̉́͆̅͒̈́̈̾̓̑͗̃̈́̓̄̀́́̽͗͘̚̕͘͝ ̵̡̢̢̡̢̘͍͉͕̠̮̤̗̻͈̯͙̲̳͎̪̹̗͓͈̟͕͇̃͒̋͒͒̉͊̎̂̽̋͋̈̀͊̅̔̒͐̋́͐̏͑͋͌͛̇͛̓̄̄̍͐ͅd̸͔͕̞̪̝̖̩͂̂̎̀͐͒̿͘ư̶̡̩͙͇̥͈͔̮̟͕̺͙̈̅̽̍̒͌͛͑͋̉̿̎̂̿́̈́̊͗̄̔̎̏̑̂̔̊̈́̕͝ͅ ư̸̧̡̼͈̲̰͓̹̗̩͓͙̹̯̹͊͐̒̾̆́̍̒̓͑̍̈́͆̉̀͘ ̷̢̧̺̩͕̟̙̳̜̩̗͔̻͕͈̥͈͖̩͇͈̠͉̩̈́̃̌̈́͌̇͂̓̐̇̍̏́̋̔͂̈́́̒̽́̓̓̚͜͜͝͠͝ d̷͔̮͓͖̉ ờ̷̧̨̡̛̛͓̗͉̪͖̼̜̬̜̦͎̻̙̖̣̠͈̳͊́̈́͊͋͊̉̈͒̔̐̄̌̎̀̈́̊̋̉̏̒̑͗͋̓̔̉̓̋͒̇͘͘͝͝͠͠ͅ ̷̳̦͙͙̤̺̜̥̖̬̮̰͈̣̗̙̮̬̈́̈́̾̂͆̓̈́ͅͅ d̵̛̳͈̗̋͊̓̒̅̿́͗́̒̂̈́̌͋̄̀́̌̄̈́͛͋̊̎̈́̓̉̕͠͝͝͠͝͠ư̵̘͚͔̫̮̭̖̱̞͔̦̩̹̱̺̺̝̬͖̜̼̬̮͎͚̪̼̯̫̳̜̙͓̥͎̳̥̻̾͆̄̋̅̂̃͒͛̿̐͒̿̊̌̓̈̅̃̒̈̈́̎̿̓̕͘͜͝͝͠͝͝ ư̴̡̧̢̧̦̭͍̮̜͓̫̪͇̖̤͙̻̮͉̭̯̙̞̥̗̱̩̞̞̼̟̱̟̦͚̼̲̼͚͈̈́͆̏͆̌̉̀͛͆͐͛̇̇̍̓̔̄͂͌̿̒̄́̌̕̚̕̕̕͝͝ ų̵̧̛͉̺̜͎̜̩͖̲̟͔̬̦̤̖͎̫͔͖̮͕̗̼͙̫̼̭̦͕̫͖͉̆͐̾̑͂͋͂̎̊͗̈́̂̕͘͜͝ͅͅ ư̶̛͙̠͆̓̃̀̍̄̔̄̇͗̀́̐́̌͂̋̑̏̄̑̕͠͠͝͝͝)̵̨̡̧̛̛̙͚̪̬̤͕̥̳̥̱̞̺͎̫̩͌́̈́̑̂̌̈͐͐͊̈́̇͐̍͒̓̓̀͐̃̆͐̓̍̀̐̃͑̕̕̕̕͝͝
Oct 27, 2021
Oct 27, 2021 at 1:12 PM UTC
perfunctory actions
zombie habits
sheep normalcy
blindly following the cud chewers
lemmings fall to their deaths
slowly
genetically engineered crops
dusted with pharmaceutical poison
laced with irradiated petroleum pesticides
fed to the babies of the poor –
wealthy voyeurs eagerly tune-in
as the impoverished masses rot
for viewing pleasure
leisurely strolling across manicured lawns
those in power scoff at the growing spectacle
unaware that the cake is stale
and the masses smell blood –
hurriedly, accountants shuffle tax rates
mix those with interest credit
season it with mortgage fees
and serve it on wall street
place mats
taking stock of stock market gains
gamblers do double gainers off high rises
adding to the flesh being consumed by the under class
under classed –
underclassmen, underpaid, stretch under ware elastic
as waistlines expand with the debt ceiling
both symbolizing the slow decline of
the American dream
screaming into the sewer
fewer eyes look back as disease dulls the iris
loss of the inner shine
glowing reflection of living organisms
fading as the day
slips into the blue-black –
night falls on a nation of imbeciles
brain dead patients
broken by depression and weight-loss scams
hearts crying out for care
personal and compassionate
instead are met with sterile robotics
and sanitary “C” students dressed in white
fearful of lawsuits
and spiders
they prescribe to symptoms
without knowing insurance number 87319A23-S1
is a human being, just like them
also living in fear
of the same establishment –
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 1:33 PM UTC
I cancelled my bank overdraft
Cut my cards up in a small pile
Actually, it was quite large you know
And this act made me smile
Just deal with cash from here on out
Never buy more than I need
It released a weight off of my shoulders
And deep down I felt freed
fiscally conservative
financially responsible
My nation cannot do it
Without me as an example
No more fees for paying late
If I need it I pay cash
Budgets I will follow
And spending...that I'll slash
Can you imagine if a nation
Took this simple thought to mind
Just pay with what we make from tax
And leave what we can't afford behind
No missiles, and no foreign debt
We're just beholding to ourselves
It's politically reprehensible
But, we owe it to ourselves
fiscally conservative
financially responsible
My nation cannot do it
Without me as an example
No more fees for paying late
If I need it I pay cash
Budgets I will follow
And spending...that I'll slash
No government agendas
To trade for that we can't afford
It would ***** the nations bankers
And make the economists quite bored
To be responsible for our actions
We are taught right from the start
don't spend the money you don't have
Well, to me...that's really smart
fiscally conservative
financially responsible
My nation cannot do it
Without me as an example
No more fees for paying late
Spending I will slash
My budget I will follow
And from now on pay just cash
Sep 1, 2012
Sep 1, 2012 at 7:57 PM UTC
Don't panic at all
Don't bother at all
What if the buildings are
Damaged dangerously?
What if all the walls
Are full of cracks
Things can be easily controlled
And you have enough money
So don't panic at all
Don't bother at all
Use your money with caution
Apply your mind, use your money
Get all the walls painted
With very nice painting
Paintings of the folks
Paintings of the modern era
Paintings of saints and heroes
Painting of beautiful landscapes
Raise slogans here and there
Unfurl flags and sing the anthem
What if the rivers are di*ty?
Only raise awareness campaigns
Put hoardings and banners everywhere
Do nothing else, but show everything
Just adopt these cheap tactics
You can save lot of wealth
And can spent on yourself
Or can buy more votes with it
Paint the bark of all the trees
Break all the records of shame
Create a new fake history
Make silly new records
What if there is poverty
Just make monuments for god
And ask people to pray there
God is there to listen the prayer
What if there is unemployment
Ask your businessmen friends
To start training centres and train the youth
And make money, money and money
Leave the trained youth as they were
Ask them to create employment for self
Call it self-employment, call it freedom
Ask them to rejoice this freedom
Open new schools and colleges
But don't appoint staff in teachers
Collect hefty amount of fees
Spent that fees on yourself
Also spent some to collect votes
Manage the peoples
Manage the machines
Manage history, manage geography
Manage the media, manage the news
Spread everywhere, fake news
If you do, what I have said
You will be the king again
Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 2:35 PM UTC
*song shadows
soul and mirrors
will we ever see clearer
sweet life
oh the fragrance
the righteous mind
un-sees the danger
so many soldiers
so many women
are all of our fathers
really little children
move swiftly
into the windy recesses
the mind regresses
all the time
damp and wet
the owl cries
so long tomorrow
farewell goodbye
dunk your head
in liquid splendor
i am tender as the snow
pouring down from heaven’s fiefdom
morning's hunger is dissipated
by moonlight kisses and salty lovers
salves of calendula upon our skin
swim in juicy wonder
listen and dance with thunder
the fireflies swim through burning skies
making arcs and triumphant cries
what a silly blunder
all the noise and all the cover
hiding your heart in violet garments
streams of satin in your slumber
stroke the liberated arrow
weave the gardenia’s shadow
streams of consciousness and beauty
looking into eyes of human strategy
human shadows
start to suffocate us
instruct the timber
plundered
strumming humid arias
looms of butter start to melt
svelte and spelt
slews of wealth
heaven's belt is loosely tied
striated like the mind
grinding hind legs
selves neglect entry fees
sleeves of grass
embrace strands of ice
with a lover or two
on the side*
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 9:55 AM UTC
Who controls our banking?
Ruinous fees for money lending.
Who questions their investing?
Why so dear for money dealing?
Who does profit from accounting?
Our finances they're controlling,
While our economy they're ruining,
They're amassing fortunes pecuniary,
Big business for them, commercially.
Let's question their accountability
For our faceless Australian economy,
Profits overseas they're sending---
So much for Australian banking!!!
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 1:12 PM UTC
I can't come to a point of understanding
Doubters and their condescension.
Seeing the life beyond seeing,
It is Life Himself they're questioning.
When Life came unbounded by space and time,
When Life lived like sand but even more fine,
Came to live with us, came from no matter how far.
Came to us on Earth, Bright and Morning Star.
In tranquil birth, caused the wise to fall on their knees,
Come in, sinner, needing no tax or fees.
In peaceful death, caused all the Earth to be forever quaking,
A click shot to the head, Death is crippled, walks without stinging.
I can't seem to understand, how unclear it can be,
How can Doubters call illogical, loving unconditionally.
How can they call the breaking of chains, a fake institution of freedom.
When Life came, and saw through our shame and called us inheritors of His Kingdom.
In tranquil birth, in peaceful death,
Beyond the grave, a victor in defeat.
In tranquil birth, in peaceful death,
I still don't get your lack of belief.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 11:09 AM UTC
The flowers fall like sweeties
in the packet of my mind.
The answer flows completely
from the hand that stops the time.
The questions that were seeking
could potentially leave us blind
to the poetry that's creeping
to the rhythm of the times.
The finders fees of finding gold
are deeply grained in laws.
The crawling finger grasping
for the love of ***** ******
The sailor tongues are swaggering
with anticipating throws,
of innocent and eloquent
shows of pretty hoes.
Jan 21, 2010
Jan 21, 2010 at 1:34 PM UTC
I never was occupied with the essence of patriotism
The altruism of the conscription of the young, to later express gratitude for their service, for their heroism
The sensationalism of singing of the anthems, and the so-called 'civil defence'
But really, it's all merely an excuse to justify unwarranted offence
It's a weapon wielded as a subterfuge for the ethical codes transgressed
For capital, people become national and subsequently irrational
Due to patriotism, all the decisions of the government are infallible
And anyone who opposes said verdicts is radical
To continue reading about patriotism, please subscribe it's only $120 per annum. Fees are taxable
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 12:42 PM UTC
It's hard for me to conceptualize the expectations you try to hide,
You're all so sneaky when you ask for my side.
When I say no, it's as if you think I'm being snide,
But all I'm trying to do is make strides.
Understanding that "no" is a full sentence for me,
Grew difficult as it was never an option, you see.
Anytime I could refuse, I would with glee,
Seeking control, even when tempted to agree.
The lack of boundaries harmed our natural bond,
I search for our connection, but when you're around, I tend to fawn.
I dislike this transactional, distant bond.
I ask for quality time and am met with fees,
Being fed a lie that your love language is acts of service, please.
Because I do nothing to help you out, it's decreed,
I must not care; I feel like a bad family member indeed.
Oct 12, 2023
Oct 12, 2023 at 8:43 AM UTC