"greta" poems
Is it acceptable to **** anyone and everyone you want,
Be mysteriously exposed in your photographs,
Act carelessly with people and friends drunk and drugged and dicked out of your mind,
Forget the hurtful and blissful past for a reputation,
Exist in a way the girl you were never thought you could be the girl you are,
Because you’re in your 20s?
You remind me of the characters Greta Gerwig plays in some of her films,
But not Gerwig herself,
Although you do look an awful like her Hispanic version if there was one;
I guess that’s you.
I bet when I was placing the edge of the razorblade against my wrist,
You were getting penetrated and plowed by a **** between the legs.
Your innocence was smothered by your lust and
Our history got erased by your fears and flaws.
I just wanted you,
But then again, everyone already had you,
And it was not my fault;
It was your choice.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 3:02 AM UTC
Every now and then
I go deep inside my mind
Just to have a little rest
And see what I can find
I don't go in there often
It dark and I must say
That sometimes I'm afraid
That I may lose my way
There's a little corner café
Where Groucho sits alone
Stan Laurel sits there writing gags
And Greta Garbo sits and moans
Sinatra sings for all of them
John Lennon talks to God
Brian Jones gives swimming lessons
There's Liz Taylor and Mike Todd
Over in the distance
At a table in the corner
Hemmingway sells movie scripts
To mogul man Jack Warner
Elvis does a hip shake
Ruth and Gherig playing catch
Bud and Lou do Who's on First
Humphrey Bogart lights a match
Charles Dickens playing darts
A red balloon comes floating by
Andy Warhol sits with Nico
Where German pop songs go to die
Marilyn and James Dean
Sit quietly talking on the stairs
John Kennedy and his brother Bob
Just pretend that they are both not there
Chico plays piano and
Harpo with his harp
Bad jokes float around the room
being told by silent stars
Phil Everly and Phil Ramone
They're new here so they're woozy
Sit talking of the songs they'll miss
Rick Nelson sings of Susie
You see it is a mad mad place
in my head when I may wander
I don't go in too deep
And I've met Henry Fonda
There's images, and icons
Family, and friends
on a little street inside my head
That's a circle with no ends
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
The Sukhumvit Rap
by David John Clare
Boom boom bah smoke yaba bah bah bah boom!
Boom boom bah smoke yaba bah bah bah boom!
Well, she come in to Na Na town on dah midnight sky train, anonymous esan girl she a mysterious Bangkok dame
Out of the nite shadows she will walk and magically appear, I'm telling you fresh forang you got some awful things to fear right here
She can slave your mind in a minute without talk so lyrical, she's a modern Thai freak, a ****** miracle
First She opiates his mind then double you'll see
will loose all sense of time and then the trouble will be
She knows what she is doing, her instincts are cold Forang men they surrender and just do what they are told
Beyond the like of a dibbie girl as you are a sucker for her date
she will leave your mind and body in a wicked deadly state
A jealous girlfriend could now completes the scene as you walk back to your short time room near Pat Pong
soi cowboy libertine...
If you get near her you hear the voice of a Thai Siren
Don't you look at her don't you touch you'll start cryin'
If you dare embrace her fool you will think you found a rare Silom Road Jem or Jewel?
She can tear your heart out and she will do it with your own **** tool !
Tell The brothers not to look the wink of her eye, tell all of the brothers not to watch her WINK!
You can tell by her moves and the slit under her dress she is a one trick thai pony ahead of you by her breast
She got a photographic smile Greta garbo movie hair
She can tear any man down with that Siamese cat like looking stare...
Don't look into her eyes she'll control you blind
you want to wine and dine her? ha, it is your mind she will sixty nine
Shell try her best to allure you so now don't concede cuz if you touch her now boy your heart will bleed
It is a hell of way to take a Thailand vacation but remember this; there is no way of ever stopping this ****** man killer creation.
Tell The brothers not to watch the wink of her eye, tell all of the brothers not to watch her WINK!
Boom boom bah smoke yaba bah bah bah boom!
Boom boom bah smoke yaba bah bah bah boom!
WINK!
(c) 2010 Clairvoyant Music / BMI Los Angeles CA USA all rights in perpetuity by the author
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 12:08 PM UTC
Fame was my name years ago.
Now I’m a white dwarf
in this youthful universe
and my smile is long forgotten.
I remember the days of Colvin and his Wilt.
There was also Cindy the **** German,
and of course Jerry and Apeksha…
and how close we were!
The Filipinos were my favorites; so nice and kind.
I still talk to Greta, and I’m thankful for this.
A Working Poet has been around to see my world in both darkness and sunlight.
However, I remember Bliss Like This,
as well as Aaron, and the Airships;
my first follows and followers.
There was a new face every day
and friends were made instantaneously.
Over one thousand fans immersed in my words on a daily basis…
Now a handful at best read my withering stanzas.
I’m a rotting apple
on a dwarf planet.
Like Pluto,
I was once loved by many,
but then they chose to forget me.
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 1:21 AM UTC
Fame was my name years ago.
Now I’m a white dwarf
in this youthful universe
and my smile is long forgotten.
I remember the days of Colvin and his Wilt.
There was also Cindy the **** German,
and of course Jerry and Apeksha…
and how close we were!
The Filipinos were my favorites; so nice and kind.
I still talk to Greta, and I’m thankful for this.
A Working Poet has been around to see my world in both darkness and sunlight.
However, I remember Bliss Like This,
as well as Aaron, and the Airships;
my first follows and followers.
There was a new face every day
and friends were made instantaneously.
Over one thousand fans immersed in my words on a daily basis…
Now a handful at best read my withering stanzas.
I’m a rotting apple
on a dwarf planet.
Like Pluto,
I was once loved by many,
but then they chose to forget me.
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 1:22 AM UTC
Cassandra,
I see you in the words
of Greta Thunberg:
Filled with passion, warnings, truth.
Not believed.
Cassandra,
I see you in the dreams
of Calpurnia;
warning Caesar, bloodied earth
Not believed.
Cassandra,
I see you in the protections
of Tony Stark;
made with fear, love
Not believed.
Did they tell you to smile more?
Ask you why you’ve “gotten involved”?
Did they belittle your prophecy,
Ignore warning after warning?
Ignore you?
Mad woman, hysterical.
You, angered Apollo
Or
Was he always angry?
Did he believe himself so worthy
of your love that he cursed
not having it?
I don’t know.
You probably told someone
We know how that would have ended,
Cassandra,
I see you in the testimonies
of Christine Blasey Ford,
so hurt, pained, strong.
Not believed.
Were you told to sit quietly, mind your place?
When you were attacked was it your body
She defended
Or
Her own desiccated image?
Maybe you told the trees of
Ajex’s sins, because even if
the men listened,
A statue protected him from justice.
Cassandra,
I see you in the words
of impassioned protestors
so bright, so young.
Not believed.
Maybe if you told them lies
they'd believe the truth.
Maybe if you told the truth
they'd believe the lies.
Believe anything you said.
Darling Cassandra
possible bride of Apollo.
definite belonging of King Agamemnon.
Did his children believe you?
Are you a warning to women?
Love who you are told to.
Bow to authority or
Never give up.
Are you a criticism of men?
Demanding of love.
Expecting subservience.
Justice not served.
Cassandra,
I see you in myself,
the pain they caused
the light going out
I am not believed.
Cassandra,
Does it get better?
Have you received the peace you so deserve?
Or are you still
Not believed.
Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 9:01 PM UTC
I had a premonition in 1972.
I had this awful feeling
that sometime in the future
there would be only one
national park, instead of the 64
we have now, left in America:
10 square miles in the remote
northwest corner of Montana.
I just finished watching on PBS
a video of John Denver, in 1974,
performing in the Red Rock
Amphitheater located in the
Rocky Mountains. That was 49
years ago, but to me, John Denver
embodied, even if unwittingly, the
emergence of concern of the bur-
geoning existential, catastrophic
threat of climate-change Earth now
faces. Few have taken bold, proactive
measures to save all living creations
on our only home. Al Gore and
Greta Thunberg come to mind readily,
but, in reality, the multinational
corporations that still rule Earth
deem profits over prudence, let alone
curative, worldwide action. John
Denver died in a plane crash in 1997,
49 years ago. Jesus, John! Why did
you have to die so early in your life?
I, and the rest of the world, hope
my premonition is never realized.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Apr 26, 2023
Apr 26, 2023 at 5:09 AM UTC
"I don't act this way to change the world. I act this way so that the world won't change me."-- Patricia Charbonneau in 'Desert Hearts'
Singing
Dancing
Trying
Crying
as The Act
is but an act.
Intangible at that.
She may be silent,
but She is strident
in action.
Later,
She is given a voice.
But,
The Lady thespian,
assaulted by
The Gaze,
is subjected
as the objected
by the subjected
and the objected.
Greta Garbo dominates
the Pre-Codes.
Betty Davis hesitates
but follows the new ones.
Miss Monroe,
the ideal ***
erases Her history,
creating a new toxic one:
"Look and touch
as you please,
Mr. President."
Singing
Dancing
Trying
Crying
"Blame the woman for everything"
say 'Ordinary People'
and the Academy
salutes you.
Look Lady,
shoot to 'Kill Bill'
for a manly thrill
to be
remembered
still...
Still waiting for change...
Legally,
a Blonde has brains, too.
But who knew
that twists
and turns
and changes
can happen
to you?
All from Her:
Singing
Dancing
Trying
Crying
on the big screen.
You
just
can't
touch
Her.
Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 1:17 PM UTC
Greta
Had just wanted one true friend
Maybel
Only asked to hold your hand
Scarlett
Was the only one to let you down
Teddi
Didn't give you what you wanted to own
Lynnie
Wanted truth but got lies in return
Amory
Told me that you could never learn
Yasmin
Fell in love and into a mess
I
Was smart and didn't say "yes".
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 5:41 PM UTC
I’d worked late each night that summer,
before the crash in Eighty Nine.
So, it was only natural
when I needed to unwind.
I’d grab a meal and have a glass
(or two) till final call
Then show up in the morning for
my stint at Broad and Wall.
The Blue bar at the Algonquin
was always my first choice.
Steve Ross was singing in the oak room,
You may recall his tenor voice.
The bartender and the waiters
knew my wants without a word.
As I waited for my supper
a distinctive voice was heard.
Even in her eighties, Garbo struck a
regal tone.
Despite age’s indignities
She would have honored any throne.
.
She knew I’d recognized her,
though I never said her name.
I was just a child when she
had her last brush with fame.
She knew me from the brokerage house
Her account was with my boss.
We’d sometimes spoken on the phone
about a gain or loss.
I asked if she would like a drink
when next the barkeep came.
She eyed the Bourbon in my glass
and said “I’ll have the same.”
We were two people, both alone,
She famous, me, obscure.
For me it was her solitude
that acted as a lure.
I knew she’d never married
though there were lovers and affairs.
It was as if the single life
was answer to her prayers.
“You know I never really said:
‘I want to be alone.’
Its just I knew I had the strength
to be out on my own.”
She knew I had just lost my Dad,
The pain was very keen.
She said “I lost my Father back
when I was seventeen.”.
“I appreciate your kindness...
It‘s going to take some time.”
“If you know where your heart lies,”
She said,” You’re going to be fine.”
I paid the bill and we stepped out
into a warm and humid night.
I hailed a cab for her
and then we said our last good Night.
I never saw her face again
or beheld those striking eyes.
It was just a few months later
We got word that Garbo died.
Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 6:37 PM UTC
Is she like Calypso
in The Camomile Lawn,
knelt down and speechless
by the fire, resembling
Jennifer Ehle so closely,
as the camera lingers
at her being naked as a jaybird,
and quite comely at that?
Or is she perhaps
more like Felicitas
in Flesh and the Devil,
a dead ringer for Greta Garbo,
who brazenly encouraged
illicit love and rivalry, only
to go quietly by falling
through thin ice?
Sometimes the siren's call
is more a winsome variation
in its silence.
Dec 9, 2019
Dec 9, 2019 at 11:10 PM UTC
Not being able to decide between
Audrey
and
Katharine
is not a real problem, my friend!
The hardness of life begins
when you meet
Bette
and
Grace.
[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PAO8vlvPS88]
PS:
have you seen
Lauren
and
Greta?
They might have changed their phone number.
Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 4:46 AM UTC
Amber was an atheist,
she thought the world was dumb as hell.
Britney was a botanist,
who had a fertilizer smell.
Candice was a coroner,
a scary passion for the stiffs.
Diana was a drummer chick,
that knew a few guitar riffs.
Evelyn was evil, man,
all leather suits and chains and whips.
Farrah was a therapist,
got in my brain with swinging hips.
Greta was a gunslinger,
she'd give most anything a shot.
Hannah was a homebody-
shy as hell, but twice as hot.
Iris was an Ivy Leaguer,
thought I was a total fool.
Janice was a juggler,
who liked to play with power tools.
Kimmy taught karate,
who dated me just for the kicks.
Louise was a lyricist,
who wrote about how guys were *****
Marilyn was mostly mean,
she liked to fight and then make up.
Nancy was so negative,
I had no choice but to break up.
Opal was an occultist,
who liked to gossip with the dead.
Paula was a **********
that made me pay to come to bed.
Queenie was inquisitive,
the questions were too much to bear.
Rosie was a recluse
who never shaved or brushed her hair.
Sidney was a sinful sort,
with toys and gadgets 'neath the bed.
Tina was a twisted chick,
with thirteen voices in her head.
Ursula was uber-cool,
always on the latest trends.
Vicky was on Vicodin,
and we all know how that one ends.
Wanda was a wanderer,
that left to join a circus troupe.
Xena the exhibitionist
liked to do it on the stoop.
Yolanda was young and fine,
and nearly cost me everything.
Zoey was a Zombie fan,
she got hot when he would sing.
I'd like to say I've settled down,
but since the alphabet is done,
I'm gonna met an Ann or Anita,
and give it all another run.
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 5:19 AM UTC
Your manly pride
Which please, have no fear
It's electric
Even when you won't even touch me
What is that about?
I already told you it's
Unforgettable
Like nothing I ever knew or will again
But how would I know?
I'm even less experienced than you could possibly imagine
And yet you think with your warped thoughts
That it is other
It is not
I'm more alone than ever
And yet it's not the worst thing
Mr.
You're the expert, remember?
You think I had a boyfriend?
I didn't
I don't
I could
I won't
It won't do
One got in and I kicked him
Twice
Others would love to
Oh how nice. Thank you you but no thanks
So
No one touches me. The baked goods locked away in a pretty cabinet since the leaves were still on the trees
That is my truth
Since for
F*cking
Ever
For you
And that
Is my
Choice
Because what I want and what I get are mutually exclusive
I'm funny like that
And the world still turns
Whiny girl who discriminates for reasons of chemistry and admiration, didn't get her way? Boo f*cking hoo. It's not Somalia. Or Sudan.
And so look where that gets me
I'm Jane Austen in Becoming Jane
I'm Laura Ingalls Wilder with no Almanzo
I'm Greta Garbo
Who actually didn't say
"I want to be alone"
She actually SAID
"I want to be left alone"
Quite a bit different really
And I didn't ask for either intentionally but I'm here living proof it happens
So
I'm a spinster
Because for that I don't bend
Except for you
I'm a genius!!
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 6:43 PM UTC
Greta, oh Greta, you’re freaking out.
Our planet won’t perish. You'll grow up.
Hyped and promoted by globalist funds,
Your unbalanced drama makes us cringe.
Greta, oh Greta, you’re barking mad;
Your handlers have let out too much leash.
Time to lie down on your favorite mat
And pray to the Lord Jesus Christ.
Sep 26, 2019
Sep 26, 2019 at 2:24 PM UTC
They never felt the vibrations
Of the voices out of the walls
Like you did, never heard their
Ghosts call from the mouths of
Birds from the fields below
The asylum window, or felt
The cold embrace of depression’s
Touch, at least not over much.
They never counted the distance
From bed to wall from wall to door
And back again, never felt the pinch
Or punch of each new day, each new
Hour, never thirst for the next drink
That never came, that teased
And tormented like good old demented
You, you with the Marylyn Monroe
Walk, the Greta Garbo talk.
From the asylum window you
Would stand and stare and watch
The seagulls in the air, see the seasons
Change from hot to cold, from light
To dark and never forget your demon’s
Hold, your lover’s eyes, his voice,
His sickly smile, the way he touched
You that final time, and all you could do
After you stabbed him through, as an
Exciting encore, was to kiss his dying
Lips as you’d never kissed before.
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 4:22 PM UTC
Sad reflections from
donated dreams.
Charity's
fallen embers.
Like a high UV index
they burn right into
your skin.
Freckling
your thoughts with a bit of compromise.
Close your eyes
to the possibility
inertia
has made itself at home.
You'll feel it, feel it
right to the bone.
But you crossed that bridge
long ago.
In the time of
tranquil misgivings.
You gave consent to
sin by offering up
your sons and daughters.
Drowning them
in the shallow end of dissipated water.
Sing hymns
all you like.
Piety
is not for sale.
And the angel light
that hits the wall
is not in the shape of Mary.
Evil always figures into
these things.
Don't you know? Heat rises. Blood falls.
So burn your prayers
on a stick. Roast them
in the campfire. You'll never turn
to God until you lie
dying. Broken and heaving.
Asking for forgiveness.
Which a man of cloth
will grant.
Such a charmed life to leave.
Only it's a cheat.
A spoonful
of circumvention.
Making you feel
warm and clever
as you bleed out. Regrettably,
your vacuous heart
sailed off on the Greta Garbo
and mortgaged
your future for such marquee.
Banking on the
here and now.
From this there can be no redemption.
Mar 11, 2020
Mar 11, 2020 at 8:26 PM UTC
leprechaun with riding cap
solitary sleeping avalanche
watch him tweeter on the edge
of fantasy round llama ranch
fall into an overture
shoot the applauding masses
wetter than the rabbits
cascading into molasses
dueling dollar and yuan
missives pointing to this guy
can't always get what you want
so shake your taxing habits
rocking and remembering
pay the peasant to do the deed
if you try some dimes
you get what you need
a lonely greta garbo hat
graces the desert dust
shining like new under the sun
pretending not to rust
hungry and thirsty,
swallow another
hollow promise smiling; laughing
see them blindly follow each other
now the bones of our distress
blowing in circles like bits of dress
and jeans the skulls and jewels
don't walk run back to save a few more
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 10:55 PM UTC
Seven men who carry a burden on their back
the sins of their fathers who adequately lack
ability to tackle tempting earthly things
a heavy load is born and no solace does it bring
The first is Lustful Harry who desires sins of the flesh
never will he marry or nurture babes to nest
his needs are physical and he knows no other life
lustful thoughts and deeds only bringing strife
Gluttonous Georgie Porgy eats his way through cakes
gorging on sweet meats and plenty of fat he makes
drinking and eating all day and through the night
much too fat to walk and much too slow to fight
The third is Greedy Greta who never has enough
she hoards and always wanting more and more stuff
never being satisfied, gaining is her only plight
possessing everything fills her thoughts day and night
Lazy Larry likes to live life horizontal
lying on the coach or in bed is rudimental
his feet elevated never going anywhere
idle and slothful never moving from his chair
Wrathful Wally stirs up anger in his veins
always moody, his happiness is in chains
vengeful and hateful is the monster he's become
indignation and displeasure means he never sees the sun
Envious Enid resentful toward others
green are the colours of her lonely bed covers
jealous of her neighbours and envious of her brothers
her goal in life is ****** as she never quite recovers
The last is Proud Priscilla who has enormous self worth
dignified and haughty, excessively procured
too high and mighty to accept the hand of charity
inordinate self esteem amidst much insincerity
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 6:23 PM UTC
Seven men who carry a burden on their back
the sins of their fathers who adequately lack
ability to tackle tempting earthly things
a heavy load is born and no solace does it bring
The first is Lustful Harry who desires sins of the flesh
never will he marry or nurture babes in the nest
his needs are physical and he knows no other life
lustful thoughts and deeds only bringing strife
Gluttonous Georgie Porgy eats his way through cakes
gorging on sweet meats and plenty of fat he makes
drinking and eating all day and through the night
much too fat to walk and much too slow to fight
The third is Greedy Greta who never has enough
she hoards and always wanting more and more stuff
never being satisfied, gaining is her only plight
possessing many things fills her thoughts every night
Lazy Larry likes to live life horizontal
lying on the coach or in bed is rudimental
his feet elevated never going anywhere
idle and slothful never moving from his chair
Wrathful Wally stirs up anger in his veins
always moody, his happiness is in chains
vengeful and hateful is the monster he's become
indignation and displeasure means he never sees the sun
Envious Enid resentful toward others
green are the colours of her lonely bed covers
jealous of her neighbours and envious of her brothers
her goal in life is ****** as she never quite recovers
The last is Proud Priscilla who has enormous self worth
dignified and haughty, excessively procured
too high and mighty to accept the hand of charity
inordinate self esteem amidst much insincerity
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
She sits
Atop a myrtle bush
Wingless
She cannot fly
But sends out her desire
Her future dreams
Through the unsuspecting air
Her belief
In distant generations
Borne upon the breeze
Hope of the unseen
Messaged across the barren lands
And am I powerless?
May 5, 2019
May 5, 2019 at 11:44 AM UTC
He loved Greta Garbo.
He’d seen all her movies
At the old cinema
Or on late night TV.
He’d read all the written
Books he could find on her.
Had photographs of her
All over his small house,
Some framed, hanging on walls,
Some on the mantelpiece,
On cupboards, on book shelves,
On his bedside table;
Her beauty looking out
At him all day and night
Especially while he
Slept in bed with his wife.
He even dreamed of her,
Dreamt he had made a film
With her, which no one saw.
Dreamt he had walked with her,
Talked with her; held her hand.
Dreamt he had slept with her
(Sleeping being the one
Operative word of all.)
Just to be close to her,
To smell her, feel her near,
Touch her tingling skin.
But not commit the sin
In his dreams or real life,
That little men like him
Never copulated
With gorgeous goddesses
Like Monroe or Garbo,
But made love with their wives.
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 3:11 AM UTC
I
That twitch in the schoolgirl’s eye
Isn’t caused by snowy mountains.
There’s Guildhall in her twisted lip.
II
I was of three minds.
Greta Thunberg took all of them
And cloaked them in a yellow hood.
III
A small part of the pantomime was never Greta’s style.
She has miles to go before she lets us sleep.
IV
Of the things schoolgirls hate
The sun is not among them.
The blackbird’s wings and the oil fields of Manitoba
Are one.
V
I do not know which to prefer,
The thought that they might one day bring out
Greta Thunberg bobbleheads
Or the fact that bobbleheads exist at all,
The fact that we’re ******
Or the fact that we’re enjoying it.
VI
An indecipherable cause.
VII
O pigtailed teens of Stockholm,
Please remember
What Wallace Stevens said
About birds of golden feathers
And of black.
VIII
What is involved in what I know?
Like Socrates, I don’t know.
But it’s more than 99.9 per cent
Of climate scientists could ever dream
And less than a signpost
To the wrong city in the snow.
IX
When Greta sailed two weeks to New York
She was in a circle of close friends.
I bet they ate tinned kippers
And had those sweets the Swedish love.
X
To cry out sharply is what we do
If we are lucky enough to cry.
And so I have more compassion
For Greta than you know.
Some women have no time.
Their children dying
Takes up the best portion of the day.
XI
I can’t remember the part of the campaign trail
He rode over to tell a waiting crowd
How the size of his equipage
Compared to his small hands.
There are good reasons why Greta hates his guts.
This is not the best of them.
XII
The river is full of plastic.
The thermometer must be rising.
XIII
It is snowing
And it is going to snow.
Oct 19, 2019
Oct 19, 2019 at 11:25 PM UTC
Psyche soaking wet with devout atheism,
this lifetime skeptic now tenuously
linkedin with Unitarianism
attests, said upbringing proffered,
mine credo, gestalt,
leitmotif, sans abstractionism
eludes elucidation, delineation, clarification...
some readers might
dismiss as absurdism
defying established dogma fixed absolutism
millenniums, would be hashtagged heretical,
and such cavalier blithe
apostasy, declared alarmism,
now - twenty first century
extant accursed as alcoholism
within various non
Western statecraft enclaves,
barely tolerating agnosticism
no fool to *********
proclamations antithetical opinionism
where condemnation to death
(I obediently, humbly, and gladly accept)
inadequate punishment,
cited on par relegated to alienism,
amoralism, antiestablishmentarianism...
never does this anachronism
loosely cabled with pioneerism,
(when ****** forests bedecked America),
a veritable wilderness, necessitated
quintessential self survivalism
knowhow long since forgot,
which dependence on consumerism
finds yours truly afflicted against capitalism
commercialism, conformism, cultism et cetera
more aligned with reliance on individualism
nearly an extinct species,
where anti materialism
betrays, cavils, and discourages ecocentrism,
versus profit motive maximization,
though of late environmental dynamism
aggressive representative thank you
Greta Ernman Thunberg regarding criticism,
nee opprobrious global ecological terrorism
mandating staunch defeatism
as stave bulwark
against criminal determinism
to wreak irrevocable traitorous dogmatism
predicated on tenets of egocentrism
brewed, steeped, and
galvanized in exceptionalism
of **** sapiens and expansionism
exclusive to said primate
that requires serious assessment,
asper bracketing craven
doctrinairism edified fundamentalism
granting humans unfettered expansionism!
Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 3:52 PM UTC