Prometheus ignites to spark this
Molotov to make his Marxist
On swine Fuhrer's Faux News tweet
Hashtag it #GorbachevWallStreet
'Cuz Putin's puppet Pinochet's
Whipped Creme de Kremlin's CIA  
From JFK to Allende
Like Russian roulette ricochet
I'll Trotsky through McCarthy's brains
Leave slain these ****** sugar Keynes   
Discred' the Fed’s six-figureheads
With strikes at dawn more red than Debs  
Still breakin' breads with Mulan Bouges
Makin' men of Khmer Stooges
Seein’ Rouge when Al Spans Greens
Potemkin loan wolf ponzi schemes
Who count the sheep like Philippines
Then Black Pearl Harbor GRANMA’s dreams...

Of Marilyn Monroes in store
Just off-shore ****** who **** the poor
A Glass of Steagall's broken trust
Half emptier than bowls of dust
In rust beltways still spewin’ fumes
As factories become Khartoums
No carbon footprint tax the hint
Of Amazon decays in Flint
Just pop the caps and drown in debt
Like Kent State drinkin' to forget
That cuttin’ class engenders race
Leaves glory, gold and God's disgrace
To slaughter Moor than Reconquista  
From Marti to Sandinista     
With Zapata sharin’ crops  
Till my Mexica heartbeat stops

I'm Pancho infiltratin’ villas
The Magilla of guerillas
In the midst of Congolese  
Same colonies, just different thieves
To me, my breed’s of landless deeds
So how you like ‘dem Appleseeds?
FReeducatin’ caves of youth
Fed Citizen’s United Fruit
‘Cuz now my open eye of Horus
Battle cries Grito de Lares
Che is centered in these veins
So my Ashoka takes the reigns
These Iron paci-Fists pack hits
Like Jimi on some Malcolm ****
Still Hajj mirages I barrage
The Raj with sheer Cong camouflage

Deployin' Sepoys on viceroys
And pol desPots’ in the employs
Of Tweedledums who run the slums
With country clubs of loaded guns
These Betsy Deez bear arms to school
Till no kids fly kites in Kabul
So gas-mask your Sharia flaw
I'll Genghis Khan Sheikoun it raw  
'Cuz refugees are rising
And we're anti-socializing
Subsidizing private party plans
Who take commands from ***** hands
These grand old klans coup klux control
Your diamond minds with mines of coal
An oil Standardized existence
Solar powers my resistance

******* sun of Liberty  
My fear itself is history  
Rewriting wrongs of Leo’s creed
In culture’s blood and vulture’s greed
An alt-right/all-white cockpile   
Stockpilin' human capital
In tricklin’ contests over spoils
Of the cotton-ceded soils
Jingos chained to Cruci-fictions
Swallowin' good Christian dictions
I spit Spanish Inquisition
Trippin' Socrates sedition
Droppin' Oppen's fission quest
For "now I am become death"
'Cuz G-bay pigs in-Fidel's sites
Flew U-2's into my last rights

These Saddamites, I smite Assad
Then spread 'em like Islamabad
Convert for-profit prison tsars
From Escobars to Bolivars 
Like currency in Venezuela
Current police-state favela
Where 9/10th's of your possession's
Worth less than your Great Depression’s
Upscale bail ‘em outs of jail
With Dodd-Frank banks too big to fail
Your FDA-approved psychosis
From Campos’ daily dose of
More defense? Here’s my two cents
These slave wages ain’t excrements
So just say no to Reaganomics    
Got us hooked, but not on phonics

Just that Noriega strain
Of Contras stackin' crack contain
Like MAD dogs who trade weapons-grades  
For Ayatollah hate tirades
On “don’t ask, don’t tell” plague ebonics
Drug crusAID Jim Crow narcotics     
Warsaw rats injected, tested,
Quarantined, and then arrested
Guess the J. Arbenz' lens
Still Tet offends their ethnic cleanse
Still Wounding Knees of Standing Sioux
Till Crazy Horses stampede you   
For Mother Nature’s common ground
My Martin Luther’s gather ‘round
Is hellbound sounds of Nero’s crown  
Let's burn this Third World Reichstag down

Vox populyin’ to remove ‘ya
Like Lumumba then Nkrumah
So some Pumbaa kleptocrat
Declares himself the next Sadat
To hide supply-side Apartheid
Increase demand for genocide
So check your factions in Uganda  
Tune into Hotel Rwanda
Come play pirates with Somalis
Then desert ‘em like Benghazis
Thirst for blood so French Algiers  
It boils mine in Trails of Tears  
My destiny unManifest-
Oppressive Adam-Smitten West
So pay your overdues to Mao
I’ll Mussolini Chairman Dow

Then flood this 9th ward Watergate
With killing fields of glyphosate
I'll redistribute IMF’s
With Left so deft you’d think it’s theft
I’ll My Lai massacre these lines
With sweet Satsuma samurhymes
I'll make these Madoff Hitlers squeal
With that Bastille New Deal cold steel
Now feel that Shining Pathos wrath
Drop Nagasaki aftermath
On Nanjing kings and dragon’s Diems
With ****** bodhisattva zens
To show you how I pledge allegiance
With razed flags still rapt in Jesus  
Laosy liars pogrom psalms
Can’t Uncle Phnom my Penh’s truth bombs

On heroes shootin' ******
My fix is un-American
Tiananmen democracies
To Syngman Rhee hypocrisies  
Theocracies drive me Hussein
With Bush league’s mass destruction claim
So I dig laissez pharaohs graves
With pyramids of Abu Ghraibs
Then nail their coffers closed like Vlad
I AM THE GHOST OF STALINGRAD
My hammer forged in winters past
My sickle reaps the shadows caste
By pantheons of penta-cons
Whose Exxons lead to autobahns
When liberal Arts of War and Peace in
Free speech teach my voice of treason

Winters can be tedious.
Sun dips into early dusk.
A dead fire refuses to ignite.

There's a quick repetition
of opening and closing blinds
over a barred window.

In need of reflection
I search a familiar face
in an unfamiliar landscape.

I have her in my grasp,
half illusion, half real,
a symbolic mask denies
her true face,

her glittering crown
divides us by its radiance.

Groping in darkness,
I stumble over objects
of wood and stone,
my unsteady tread tripping
over their contours.

I light a candle.

Bathed in amber light,
our shadows merge.

A new door opens,
stretching the perspective.
No formal borders here,
they wouldn't survive
the present climate.

In their place,
intricately carved
figureheads and totems-
a vision of the past.

My eye is a camera,
retinas branded with imagery
for the photographer's delight-
coloured pebbles, carved wooden animals,
tin cans, bones.....

....A Glass Sentinel
(though she isn't visible)
I can see right through her-
a vision of smokescreens
and subterfuge.

Past stumps of driftwood,
past the uncut grass,
a few flowers...

...to the fabricated backdrop
of a burning house, black smoke
rising
in
a
thin
stream.

At the open door -
The Guardian,
(I know her inside out)
unmoved,
(she didn't bat an eye)
defiant in a new skin,
a softer version-
The Mother protecting her children,
arms splayed, prepared
for fight or flight.

A russet flame
Licking her spine exhales
'Get out of my way!'
but she wasn't listening.

Smile fixed,
eyes of a phoenix,
a lion,
a raptor,
protector.
We all need feeding,
but not this way!

Throw me a cloth,
a napkin,
a man-size tissue
a lifeline!

She wanted this,
no, wished it-
this symbolism,
this burning of ironic portraits,
to clear the deck,
make way for new.

It shook the house,
its fate sealed behind closed doors.

I compose myself,
pull her back from the perilous edge,
gather her in my arms.

Fragments of shattered words
flutter in the ether.

What is real?
What is fiction?
A carbon copy of thousands?
A charred corner?

A forgotten candle?






WARNING:
'Eating fire' is a risky business
but can attract a large audience.

Peak temperature water levels fake diagnoses white psychopaths starving hunger jingoism violence [systems that deprive us] guns entitlement shots fired accidents grief/mourning choking hazard corporate mascots corporate favoritism corporate bailouts corporate people ideology without monitor nationalism patriotism conservatives patriarchy ******-****-suicide victim silence lack of conviction religious ******* false history infant mortality job insecurity invisible hands trickle down economics union busters corporate police brutal police evil police secret police debt bankruptcy foreclosure homelessness lost confused prisoner criminal banker war preparations propaganda ballots commercials advertisements campaigns money power puppets figureheads armies genocides **** bomb gas fire no survival violence wealthy lawyers assassinations heart complications death sleep.

Frigid curly
Black and long
Tentacles from the scalp

Frantic, we dance
And our unbraided ropes
Drench in salted sweat

For now
I shake and yet
The tremble in me is fake

Finally silent
I crouch away since
When was having fun such a task

“let sleeping dogs lie,”
i said
as the ground turned sideways
topsy turvy
we made gravity our enemy

in our witless haste
drug driven day crusades
we became empty giants
standing on man’s shoulders
hoping to hold the sun

“dream your waking daylight,”
you said
as the sky shook itself
upside down
we made time our enemy

in your desperate rush
forgotten frail figureheads
i became fickle Midas
falling with the rising
daring to gild the moon

“our pretty eyes are lies”
we said
as the world fell apart
fault lines
we made entropy our enemy

ART MOMENT, VOL 1
By Darcy Prince

Time or reality is ungoverned, it will remain so for at least in the indefinable future. Innovations will come along. If ethical education has taught us anything. It always changes. Devoid of not making an effort.

I tried painting for a bit. I’m not that good. Several years ago, my housemate recommended watching an Andy Warhol documentary. I honestly became fascinated & dived into several art documentaries, honestly quite a fantastic learning experience. Looking, I regret not collecting all the links to those documentaries, even though I got the time to do so now. This was during the time of getting to know myself again, or getting a sense of direction. Painting, drawing, more attempts to learn, using online videos to learn how to draw a person's eyes or hands was a somewhat slightly disappointing experience, that I should try something else. I can remember the pacific moment to try art writing a go or even getting into any sort of criticism. But I ended up there.

I remember watching the program, ‘different ways of seeing’, aesthetics became a new subject for me. With Alain De Botton, now taking into consideration the larger impact, things have on society. Being utterly fascinated on how some, not all painters have a lasting print on peoples society. Like how Van Gogh never sold a painting within his lifetime. The relation between what we see & what we know is a comforting, settling thing. Seeing the painting ‘scream’, perhaps an early meme or trolling act, without a notice, reflects the inner fear we share. Feeling desired as a lover, maybe the most Holy feeling in the world. For those who aren’t, their artworks are a displaying force of nature. Rothko has provided a new way in expression, with his drape like paintings in a tone of red, as his edges before the canvas ended seemingly lazy at a time when art was supposed to be serious & realistic. And so far, people are the common thread between forms of art.

A time for action is in art. In modern speaking or our armchair conversations over coffee, maybe you’re a tea drinker. My cigarettes will be there. The hashtag learn to code was quite popular, especially when universal income became a new subject for our politicians we are voting in and started to be talked about. Games are a large industry. There’s even arguments for it being art. It does make use for graphics & storytelling. Whether you play it or not. It does include a large amount of thinking to put together. Sure we can talk of the violence it uses. Though outside those who read or try to keep up with modern times. The rise of deep fakes. *** doesn’t belong to a group, race, a part of the city, race. It honestly belongs to the world. Yes, some works of art will rise from it. The obscure thinking never actually seems to fit in. Even in the Star Wars films, there’s a use of passed away actors to be acting in the films they’re releasing now. To remain innocent, is to remain ignorant. Statues of past figureheads of culture may have been adored by the art critic, but the average person has someone they know to be entered in their private virtual world.

I don’t know what your story is. I think art can offer what we’re languishing inside of us. Personally, over the last couple of years, I’ve been wounded by my last breakup. I spent it in bed, I cried, I couldn’t do anything, even food started to taste differently. In romance art, novels in particular, supplemented so much. Being heartbroken. Can you believe that individuals can do so amongst themselves? I’ve heard it argued & arguing successfully, that identity comes from an idea. Art I think, that comes along with that. But art does provide a certain grief, with tragedy developing as its own genre.

I really don’t know where I was going with this. I just wrote it out. But leaving it here, to add to the body of work when I die. But what reconciles an individual with society, to what that person created.

Miss Lucy had a steamboat, the steamboat had a bell (ding ding)
Miss Lucy went to heaven and the steamboat went to-

"Hell, you're king of asphodel and I'm the
queens are only figureheads pretending to
'rule the chalky darkness and master your
light' fires in my soul with a lonely wet
match up the boys and the girls and ignore their
desire is a sickly sweet syrup, poisoning your
veins are so easy to reach when a blade is your
cure me cure me but only how I want to be
cured minds are a cracked figment of our
imagination is henceforth forbidden, it hinders
conformity of anger is an empty and broken
safety has always belonged to those who lie the
best hate others or they'll love to hate you
first come first serve, no matter where you came
from the sewage of the silt of society we will
'rise if you believe in miracles' no, but I think there's
hope is the thing they say we have but forgot to give
us quiet kids are always too busy being
NORMAL is not what you said it was, nice try
though we are free, you have forgotten to tell us
so it goes, so it goes, one day I had been
dreaming is something she hates so she's begun to
smile, it's a wonderful mask to wear when you're
collapsing is my specialty, I'm just like all the
others being in pain does not mean I should not
cry out all you want, science proved that God's not
listening to the sound of silence is long since out of
style is a name and a number and a broken
incarceration may cure me, but once I was just like
you have the power but we have the money to fake
it cannot drown softly if it never wanted to
begin at the beginning and we will all be
lost along the skeleton bridges, I began to
walk with me, walk with me. It's always a day that's-"

Darker than the ocean, darker than the sea!
Darker than the underwear my mommy put on YOU NOT ME!

Beneath the Amber sun,
above the reflection of the waters,
his armies did assemble,
ready to smash, bash, and gnash,
the hope of the Fea'inor
dwindled.
Numbered so few, that any host of evil
could easily leave them ruined,
Rua'grain, absorbed the fears,
and disolved the confidence,
until, Mædhras, delivered words inspiring
to all.
'Be brave my fellow warriors,
that this day Evil may take not one
step more, and We the free,
may tell the tales of this day.
Fight not for the chance that you
may live, but that your children,
your wives, you families may have
just one beloved day more!
Waste not that which is sacred,
be not careless with your lives,
but fight for that one extra day.
It is worth it.'

Resounding horns, echoing on the waters,
the flash of steel, magnified by the reflection,
the hearts of Men, united with Old Allies,
once more bore a flame, akin to none
beheld before.
The force of Good with swiftness moved,
the host of Rua'grain,
creatures from every shadow,
crevasse, and lair,
assembled to have at the free and fair.

10,000 creatures, all with sullied eyes
stampeded in a wild craze.
With courage, the Fea'inor defended,
pushing back against the rage,
fighting to the last,
and making this en-darkened host pay.

Mædhras, stands, resolute upon the eastern shore,
his foes strewn all about him,
smote upon the bloodied shore.
His courage unyielding,
strength unending,
the host of evil festering around him.

To his call his men did rally,
showing all valor and courage,
defending, and assaulting,
inflicting devastation upon they
who sought to destroy fea'inor' homes.

In one final push,
one last show of strength,
Mædhras lead his men
along the endless shore,
and forced his sword,
gleaming and rubied,
into Rua'grains soulless chest,
The Host of Evil, corruption
and all villainy departed,
fleeing for the hills,
and making a victorious sound,
Fea'inor went in humbled pursuit.

Yet, along the endless shore,
after all Good and Evil had left
these two figureheads engaged
in the greatest combat,
Locked for all eternity,
to create the birth of Day,
and death of Night.

The padlock on the continuous barnstorm of a transcendent time whose bunkum is transmuted consciousness aligning with parallax to a congruent worldview is not axiomatic but certainly a veridical property of reality. The universe is as much concept as percept and both properties of consciousness that lead to adaptive behavior are tethered to the eccentricity of the observer rather than the oblong nature of the observed where errors in prima facie judgments delineate the saplings of humanity to beaze under the proctored sunlight of an eternal sunshine that withers seldom to the whims of capricious arbitrage of those whose hubris exceeds the limits of the intellectual frontier because they are gilded with bricolage mentalities that scaffold the skeletonized worldview rather than apprehending the concretism and synthetic arraignment of interrogable reality in a manner that acknowledges the factitious intersection of pioneering understanding and the corporeal existence of realities both transcendent in spatiotemporal mapping and reversible propinquity to the sensible acquisition of tangible knowledge. I contest the worldview of many philosophers as a callow retread of basic logic whose ambition is underserved by a desire for prolix pellucidity rather than cogent succinct promethean formulations that dare to muster the herculean task of demystification even if the entropy of formulation is always flawed by the jaundice of the observers rather than the disdain of the observable consensus. We swing by a filipendulous thread that dangles speculation and reifies the blinkered piebald world of spotty concatenations among neurons recognizing that incomplete associations become the staples of philosophies that are precarious in some logical foundation but sturdy enough to weather the vagaries of the bluster of mendicants who verge on comprehension but pale in comparison to the monolithic edifice of so-called truth when the defalcation of figureheads supplants the clerisy as the new proctor of knowledgeable assertion. I contend that foofaraw is a primeval instinct of community ecology that expedites the balkanization of otherwise unitive properties of society and ravages them with bickering based on clashing predilections that are bellicose and combative rather than irenic and balmy. The acerbic fates of many leads to a rudimentary pessimism or a chary optimism that chides against the fortified exegesis of divinity that can be both proclaimed and stultified for its latticework properties of buttressing society in a permutation that is nimble in some respects but too turgid and rigid in others. The goal of humanity is to become a pliable instrument of a pliable universe that does not rely on buzzword dogmatism or the masquerade of hollow punditry but that relies on self-reliant principles for ascertaining veracity and impugning mendaciloquence with vigilant alacrity rather than casual sportsmanship that reaches finality only upon the handshakes of a battle waged that concedes the impotence of gladiatorial spectatorship as just a gambit of the half-witted cockney witticisms and shibboleths of sportive diversion rather than consequential and decisive reckonings with the subaudition that undergirds all events of any consequence with either a clinched victory or a callow defeatism of a futilitarian worldview that stoops to reconciliation only to propitiate antagonism and buffer against the truculent brunt of weaponized coercion to checkered flags that arbitrate the outcome of a binary polarity of humanized affairs. The majesty of creation is that reversible boundaries can be permeated in a bi-directional manner through the artifice of concerted thought rather than the orchestration of a linear traipse through the deserts of an inclement fate won immediately when projected upon the tangent of any given velocity at any point of acceleration away from the targeted impetus that grants only a partial vantage, a cantle of reality that is fragmented and piecemeal rather than circular and emergent. The most dire battle that humanity faces is the attrition of circumstance by the purposive declarations of imperious authority that seeks to muzzle the ingenuity of many for the deliciation of the few creating an accidia among the clerical institute of thinkers that imposes hogra that few people can grapple with that they are marooned into a cloister that reaps fewer rewards for an ascendant intellect than a virulent libido can clutch with predatory gallops against the also-rans that fight for carnality rather than the ethereal principles lingering within the grasp of many if it became a cynosure of worthy heralded acclaim. We witness the mass fecklessness of giftedness as a shackle of those whose plaudits come intrinsically fortified but sustain none of the abuses that the pedestrians would like to obtrude upon enlightenment to curtail and abridge the art of invention like the coagulation of blood to rob the vitality of throbbing pulse of importunate self-discovery of its macroscopic vista and its telescopic foresight about the future hodgepodge of a recursive fractalized reality besieged by the enemy of linear logical formulations implemented by ivory tower psychologists to muzzle the empowerment of abstruse language in order to make savory the nostrum of the apothecaries of delegated truth bereaved of recourse beyond certain leaps they cannot fathom well enough to flicker with even a faint transient wisdom that is designed to be amenable only to the supernal nature of ideation rather than the caprice of bedazzled humanitarianism. We need to forswear the -isms that flicker with doctrinaire dogmatism and flirt with forceful harangues that exhort a codified message and launch veridical properties of recondite etherealism into an immovable orbit whose inertia can broadcast a singular message of recoil against puritanism in science or skepticism in faith. The bedrock of this message is the deployment of useful extravagance without inordinate delay, the drivel of malcontent transmogrified into the prattle of estimable giants that have stature among the leviathan enough to recriminate against the autarky of self-smug simpletons that infest the world with barbarous indecencies and crude prepossessions that abortively crumple when met with the acerbic teleological gravity of ulterior consequence rather than blossom under the siroccos of manufactured wind designed for windfalls that always create a crestfallen aftermath from the anticlimax of understanding leading to the desiccation of consequence and the engorgement of precedence. These frangible realities become buoyant because the physics of the public dialectic insulates the creaky rickety vestiges of canonical knowledge as a sworn precedent inviolable and immune as a building block of all scholasticism, a retread of parchment recycled over and over again to entrench the past as the titanic vehicle that dictates the future of thought even though the porous inconsistencies of the vagrants of crude formulation make such a vessel less seaworthy than scientism and dogmatism of the monolith would have you believe to be true. The querulous quips of the uninformed predominate with such clutter that the armamentarium against useful idiocy is stagnated into a resigned accord with infernal subjugation of the public volition to insubordinate against a system of parochial enslavement rather than a catholic enlightenment whose universalism of principle ensures a steadfast society guided by scruples rather than undermined by the prickly thorns of abrasive contrition and the magnetism of empathic concern that sabotages the clarity of intelligence and provides a welter in the place of a well-arrayed code of peculiar but defiant distinctiveness that acts as the splinter that cracked the intangible but refractory borders of human inclination and demonstrated the sheer force of golden consistency rather than fickle withering resolve. I exhort and implore the world to heed the best minds that realize the syncretism is answerable to contradiction rather than scuttled from beneath by the impudence of its assertions against the common propriety when it stakes controversy as a gamble to aver the veracity of worldviews that violate orthpraxy with gusto as a brazen gallantry to rescue a foundering planet that seeks disequilibrium in harmony rather than an equilibrated sensibility that is proud to discriminate properly and honestly to clinch fact rather than kowtow to factitious slumber of somniferous kumbaya that is too deferent to maxims that are unduly polite only because charisma supersedes genius in its efficacy to mobilize people to fulfill their roles. With the miscegenation of justice that occurs because of expedience we find holes in many legalistic precedents because they anoint pettifoggery over sensible jurisdiction and face a leaky and ramshackle fate to foment paternalism and divide the clerisy among certain key considerations in order to save face rather than to impose a clarity of orderly supervision that seeks to dissipate the embroiled spiderwebs of dodgy prevarication and quacksalver logic to once and for all ascertain the truth that lurks beyond the primal jaundice of Kafkaesque confusion.

Overman—
Follow you the music of a generation
Premonitions of the culture
Constantly unseating one another
At the throne beneath your soapbox?
Quarrel you with Parrish Priests and
Local Lords and
Moneyed Many and
Other Overmen?

Overman—
Speak you in uncommon tongue
Through veils of bourgeois idols
Through clouded visions blinding you to pleas from those beneath
Through impenetrable barriers about your plywood castle?

Overman—
Reject you any god lain at your feet,
Any miracle as trivia,
Any sincerity as foolishness,
Any ethnic pride as blasphemy,
Papal Pagan figureheads as absurdity?

Overman—
Have you children born unnaturally,
Brothers cross the moonlit gulf,
Sisters of incestuous intimacy,
Fathers of musical prowess,
Mothers of a warm genetic lab?

Overman—
Your day is coming
One hundred million of you
In synchronistic harmony
Of uniform variety
Of classless social rigidity;
Becoming one with the orbital network,
A single entity to govern life among the planets,
An immortal computer god
Expanding past the reaches of
The spent and worn-out orb
That keeps revolving, spiraling downward,
Closer, closer to the sun—
Overman, will you outlive them all?
Overman, you were there first,
Will you be the first beyond?

trolling the doldrums for crumbs of gold
selling old caldrons to witless witches
wearing goblin teeth and dragons blood
earrings from Hot Topic
I languish in the Emo village that is the United States –
Self-serving ******* preserving their precious habitats
while habitually encumbering the global ecology
drinking biodegradable Starbucks in Buick Escalades
escapade-ing ***** raiders afraid of Mercury in retrograde
staying clear of the mayhem
and playing fear propagating madman
I stoke wildfires with gasoline
prodding the populace into premature ******* –
poorly formed ideas the norm
the scorn for the figureheads shows on the shoreline
boorish oarsmen, moored, pour their kerosene blood
onto the floor…. Sure,
pure Fuerer fodder,  but newer shoes
were never shod
and the godhead faces west into the sunset –
druidic fluids escape wiccan slits
as the children of the Azure seas never get to be born
Pleaedian starships collide inside Antarctic subterranean dwellings
indiscriminate shelling of uninhabited caverns
as ravenous reptilians eat the jaw muscles
and left eye sockets
of organically fed Dairy cows…
espoused louse houses in Fall fashion blouses
trounce the infirm in clown shaped bounce houses
again, the sin goes unnoticed
as the blood of the innocents grants the elitists
another thousand years of power –
The tower on the hill still shines in the moonlight
on the 5th night of delighting the religious right…
mighty flightless birds self-assured and fed
on bramble burrs
purr at the sight.
bodies strewn all askew;
the moaning few with skin turning blue
true to the stories of old
as lack of oxygen blends with the biblical beast mark
and staving for air the impaired dare not to ask for Jesus aid…
instead they lay, waiting to be saved –

These days it seems ... ?
weapons are ... seen ...
NOT JUST ... on screens ...
but now ... in streets ...
  
Murders Here ... !!!
Murders There ... !!!
  
These days it's ... CLEAR ...
They ... "FILL" ... Nightmares ... !!!!!
  
" Nightmarish " ... dreams ...
for those ... " Now Left " ...
with ... memories ...
of friends ... Now Dead ... !!!
  
or ... A Relative ...
for which ...  
There's ... NO FIX ...  
  
while the media sings ...
the ... " Same ol' thing " ...
  
"We need more police
with weaponry,
to stem the tide
of violent crime !"
  
while ...
  
Governments ... " Feed " ...
DIFFERENT ... stories ... !!!!!
  
"Violent crime is down,
across our towns !"
  
Maybe where they are !!?!!
  
with their .....  
" Six Car Garage "
and ... " Entourage " ...
of ... Security Guards ... !!!!!
  
No ...  
" Hoodies " ... round them ...
or .... " Terrorist Threats " ....
  
Yet our youth are ... " Investing " ...
in ... " Possessing " ... more weapons ... !?!
  
A ... " New Age Trend " ...
that ... NEEDS TO ... " Lessen " ... !!!!!
  
as time ..... transcends ..........
there are many who ... " Threaten " ... !!!!!!
to .... Use A Weapon ....
  
from ... Violent Youth ...
to these ... Terrorist Crews ...
  
but ......  
Is that true ... !?!
Who's Foolin' ... Who ... ???
  
The U.S's ... " New Weapon " ...
ISN'T .... seen as a threat .... ???
  
Well ...  
Not just ... " Yet " ...............................
  
Could it be that ... Obama ... ???
is worse than ... " Osama " ... ?!?
  
Questions like ... THAT ...
may get me ... attacked ...
  
By BOTH .... white and black ...
but ... THINK ... before you ... FIRE ... !!!
  
A president is ... " Hired " ...
and RARELY ... ever ... " Fired " ...  
and .... most of them ....
are just ... " Figureheads " ...
who tend to be ... " BIG LIARS " ... !!!
  
"But Barack's Black !"
  
is what's being ... said ...
by his ... " Supporters " ... YES ... !!!
  
BOTH ... White and Black ...
  
But .....
Which way will they sway ... ?
if things ... Don't Change ... ?
  
I bet blacks starts saying ...
  
"Well he is mixed race..."
  
while the ... " Liberal Whites " ...
will probably be playing ...
the ... CLASSIC ... old lines ...
  
"He's messed things up !
He ain't one of us !"
  
Of course ...  
Blacks will cuss ... !!!
and ... " Run Their Gums " ... !!!!!
  
"Why you saying this stuff ?!?"
  
because ....
In .... " My View " .... !!!
it's the ... ******* Truth ... !!!!
  
because .....
this brother's got colour ....
that makes him ... " Cool " ... ?!?
  
That's a weapon they've ... " Used " ...
to keep you ... FOOLED ... !!! ...
  
So Don't ... get it confused ... !!!
  
Don't it seem a bit strange ... ?
that after .... " Uncle George " ....
Who ... CLEARLY ...  Waged War ...
on ... " immigrant Hoards " ...
  
that a man called ... " Osama " ... !!!!!!
  
"Excuse me .... OBAMA's .... !!!"
  
Gonna .... " SAVE THE DAY !!! "  
  
Clearly NOT ... !!!
  
for the folks down with ........ B.O. ........... !?!?!
  
Wait a minute man ... Whoaaaaaaa ... !!!!!!!!
  
I can smell something ... " Funny " ...
and I know it ain't me ....... !!!!!!! .......
  
  
B.O. .... SHOULDN'T BE ....
in the ... " White House Seat " ... !!!!!
  
but I guess that was left ...
by good ol' ... Georgie B' ... !!!!!
who's been in the news ...
for avoiding ... " SHOES " ... ?!?
  
Now .....
What kind of ... " Weapon " ...  
are they to ... " use " ... ?!?!?
  
I know ... Iraqi Dudes ...
gotta have ... More Venom ... !!!
  
It's ... Always the way ...
  
How you bringing a knife ... ?
to a F'ing ... " GUNFIGHT " ... !?!
  
"Son, you shouldn't play games
when it comes to your life !"
  
That's why ... " My Weapon " ...
is used to ... " STRENGTHEN " ...
  
NOT ...  
Leave me ... "weak" ... !!!
like those who ... " Bleed " ...  
  
My Weapon's ... MY MIND ... !!!
and ... well though out rhymes ...
that require ... NO SWORDS ...
or .... " Physical Wars " .... !!!!!!!!!
  
Of course I recognise ....
that words .... Can''t Stop ....
Weaponry that's ... STRONG ... !!!!!
  
But i'd rather die .... !!!
than start ... taking lives ...
because I ... " Couldn't 'Find " ...
A ... " Better Way " ... to end ...
..... Petty ..... arguments .....
than ... using a weapon ...
to prove ... my strength ...
  
when ... all it's gonna do ...
is lead to .... " Death " ....  
  
So .....
Do the government lie ... ???
about ... Gun and Knife crime ... ???
  
I'll let you ... decide ...
but remember ... These Lines ... !!!
  
Things on ... " Prime Time " ...
are what .... " THEY CHOOSE " ....
  
and Aren't ... always true ... !!!!!
  
Think about your life ...
and where you reside ...
  
Does your neighbourhood ... ?
get the coverage it should ... ?
  
Does the news ... " Neglect " ... ?  
the things you wanna see ...
on .................Your T.V. ....... ???
  
You see .....
  
My Weapons are ... WORDS ... !!!
and .... poetic verse ....
  
Now I ... RARELY Curse ... !!!
but agree with ... Em' ....
  
When you face problems ...
Sometimes ... You ... NEED TO ... !!!!!
  
I'd prefer that move ...
than a move to ... " SHOOT " ... !!!!!!
  
I can't end this piece ...
without ... One More Theme ...  
  
The biggest weapon in use ...
is ... CLEARLY ... " YOU " ... !!!!!
  
The things ... " You Choose " ...
and things .... " You Do " ....
and things you ... FEAR ...
  
This move is ... CLEAR ... !!!
  
The media ... FUELS ...
A ... "Limited View" ...
  
OPEN ... Your Mind ... !!!
and .... RECOGNISE ....  
that what you're fed ....
is .... " Agenda " .... led ....
  
You really can't believe ....
everything that you read
or the things that you see
on your ... TV Screens ... !!!!!
  
There are ... Many Fallacies ...
and .... False Prophecies ....
  
aimed towards ... " Your Ears " ...
to ... " Fuel Your Fears " ... !!!!! ...
  
My Weapon ... Fa' Sure ...
" Supports " ... This Cause ...
  
Conscious Thoughts ... !!!
before acts of war ...
  
That Make ... Blood Pour ... !!!
  
So ...
My question for you all .....
  
............ is ...........
  
" What Is Yours ? "

we were out on the porch
on an abnormally warm december night
with little glow florence off to the west
and he hadn't said much of what was there
because when he says nothing he is, with
his words laid out beneath pearl snaps
scrawled down his stomach--I would know,
i've seen his the tyrades plow, resentment
run thick, angry words rampant in his veins--

so he says nothing, and I know.

often times he is an open door and
i am the wind, in billows or gasps, rattling
hinges, finding holes, peeling paint or gathering dust
a spool of thread wrapped around stonehenge to remember
curls of foilage, svelte figureheads on galleons, I tell him

that I want to be with him and he says nothing. won't even look at me,
he's somewhere far away, drawn into penrose like a soul sunk in the
dirt, I say it again, and he tells me we should go inside


so i want to ask if that is all i am,
if that is what this is, if i am only good
for one night or two hours, in bits and pieces
limbs and moisture, if as a whole i am too much
but still lacking, if the warmth of my hips is
all that's needed but the grand luminance of a soul is out of the question?


But I say none of that, just follow him inside.
A hundred questions trickling down my spine, gathering in my femur, my calves, gusting into my lungs, I don't know how to be more than this and less, I'm opening up the cavity of my chest and pleading this

this is all there is.
I am all that I can be

Caught in between my God/Satan duality I felt a nightmare
What if someone went back in time and cut me from the womb
Would I just dissolve and fall from time?
Can we try this vision soon?

Terminators can go back in time
And so can a Delorean
But only in the movies
But imagine what's in God's emporium

A worn-out fast computer finally cracks the time code
Centuries after every man is extinct
So this new robot-kind finds what they can
By scanning everyone on the net

The robots discover me and my unique viewpoint
Do they read my poem and laugh with me
Or set out to destroy
We'll see

No one wants to run around making sure their parents copulate
Or be hurled into the future where everyone's extinct
But if you go far enough forward you could come back around
Or die in the machine in a transdimension without a sound

They'd probably ***** out history's figureheads first
And like stomping a butterfly could make time reverse
Or everything just shifts and changes
rearranging the wheel in an infinite curse

The sculptured mermaid hung at the prow,
And breasted the highest waves,
Her hair flew back from the salt and spray
Was carved from some wooden staves,
She never smiled in a cruel sea
But watched for the distant shore,
In hopes that one day, try as they may
They’d leave her behind once more.

She’d had enough of the fuming foam
Of the white capped waves by the shore,
The heaving swell made her feel unwell
And each storm brought a taste of Thor.
She’d once been used to a merchant’s lot
Had sailed to the East and West,
Her arm was shattered by cannon shot
When the French attacked at Brest.

But now she was tied to a Man-of-War
She couldn’t escape her fate,
She knew she’d end on the ocean floor
If support was a little late,
Her skirt was ragged, was chipped and torn
And her paint beginning to fade,
She lived in dread of the Dutchmen’s horn
Or the sound of a fusillade.

The only time she was known to smile
Was back in the port once more,
She’d meet and greet with all of her friends
The carved figureheads of war,
She’d will the ship run into the pier
To tear her away for good,
And hope the break would be clean and sheer
To pamper her aching wood.

The salt and damp got into her pores,
The rot set into her bones,
Then one fine day when a world away
She dropped to a bed of stones.
She sits below where the sailors go
When their ships cast them to the deep,
And as they pass she will smile at last
As they enter their endless sleep.

David Lewis Paget

I'm tired of traffic
I'm tired of sleepless nights ... literally
I'm tired of alarm clocks
I'm tired of people littering
I'm tired of homeless people asking me for money
I'm tired of feeling like I owe them compassion
I'm tired of greedy, scumbag, politicians spewing their rhetoric
I'm tired of mouthpiece figureheads inhabiting every news outlet
I'm tired of news in general. It always seems to be ****** anyway
I'm tired of people who believe the earth is flat
I'm tired of the earth not being flat, so I can't push said people from the edge of it
I'm tired of people spreading their religions like cancer
I'm tired of every coffee shop conversation ending in a failed pyramid-scheme recruitment
I'm tired of murderers, rapists, and other delusional ***** sharing my precious oxygen
I'm tired of the fact we can't just feed them to endangered sharks
I'm tired of being expected to care
I'm tired of my failure to begin smoking cigarettes. God how I idolize them
I'm tired...
So I guess I'll get some rest

Often we will hear of the inconceivable happening thousands of miles away
And we think to ourselves "how terrible"
Grieving for a day or two, maybe more if it's closer to our hearts
But the daily drill is still of income and payments and staying afloat
We're all numb
And there is a war out there that isn't civil
There is no boarders just a small slum Or a big city transit
All with ghosts now in their ruins
We live in fear or in blind ignorance
Because it comes up so much in the main media that there is no more room for us to care
We want to care
We sympathize
We forget in a month
Moving on to the next bullet to travel through a minority's chest
And we mock a groups once valiant efforts turned sour by the anger in their minds
One by one another greedy one takes advantage of the pain to use for their campaign
A generation that grew up believing they could be the very best now only believing that they are worth nothing
A time period that will forever be a joke in a few years time
But our struggle is not mein kampf but it is OUR TIME TO BE ALIVE
we are just living
We are
Just living in another time
Time
That will be remembered through figureheads and not the experiences felt
So here is for the tears
Not the water falling from our cheeks but the divide in the culture

Rage, it consumes me, destroys me,

Forgiveness, it was something I looked for but do I really want it,

Love, I feel it yet it is not who I am it is not something I want,

Hatred, I love it, it makes me who I am, it creates the glare in my dark eyes besmirched by a lust for violence,

Pain, only mentally do I feel it, the blood I bleed feels good the blade like a soft stroke from her soft hand,

Anxiety, tearing me apart from the inside until I finally implode meeting my foul end,

Hysteria, the disorder and chaos eating away at my soul gashing its way to the core,

Chaos, I greet it with a grin, with excitement, I love it, watching those who thought they were in control fall apart, lose control, watching there soul be crushed in the iron fist of the lord of chaos,

Rage, forgiveness, love, hatred, pain, anxiety, hysteria, chaos, they all belong to me I am them and they consume me, they are who I am they are the figureheads that influence my every decision, some stronger than others yet all contributing to the rotting of my bleeding soul,

hindsight being 20/20 we now know the learnings that we get from allowing male chauvin-ist pigs to make rules for others, get away with more than their share, and the issues of figureheads for the masses. We are doing better after this day, this is the upswing. Thanks for you.

WE are better now, we are smarter now, we take our learnings forward, we love with our fullest selves, and we. GET. BETTER.
This is not shame, this is guilt, we learn from mistakes.... and we believe in rehabilitation.

Swarm is forever.

Only some cops are bad now that we'll have the ability to decipher who can deal with the call of duty and who cannot.