"henchmen" poems
i like to listen to bobby womack
sing "fly me to the moon"
while thinking of jeff's blue origin rocketship
exploding in the air
all his pride
crashing down in pieces
recorded for the whole world to see
because i have walked
unhappily down the streets
of soulless south lake union
where clueless people walk by
dumbly raising rents
congesting traffic
thinking they are off to change the world
crying about peter dinklage
yellowfacing herve villechaize,
their stupidity knows no bounds
always hard at work in south lake union
producing nothing that won't be obsolete
the second it is completed
purposely designed to make our lives unaffordable
**** jeff and all his tech bro henchmen
who do nothing but steal the sun from the poor
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 1:57 AM UTC
In Rome on the Campo di Fiori
Baskets of olives and lemons,
Cobbles spattered with wine
And the wreckage of flowers.
Vendors cover the trestles
With rose-pink fish;
Armfuls of dark grapes
Heaped on peach-down.
On this same square
They burned Giordano Bruno.
Henchmen kindled the pyre
Close-pressed by the mob.
Before the flames had died
The taverns were full again,
Baskets of olives and lemons
Again on the vendors' shoulders.
I thought of the Campo dei Fiori
In Warsaw by the sky-carousel
One clear spring evening
To the strains of a carnival tune.
The bright melody drowned
The salvos from the ghetto wall,
And couples were flying
High in the cloudless sky.
At times wind from the burning
Would driff dark kites along
And riders on the carousel
Caught petals in midair.
That same hot wind
Blew open the skirts of the girls
And the crowds were laughing
On that beautiful Warsaw Sunday.
Someone will read as moral
That the people of Rome or Warsaw
Haggle, laugh, make love
As they pass by martyrs' pyres.
Someone else will read
Of the passing of things human,
Of the oblivion
Born before the flames have died.
But that day I thought only
Of the loneliness of the dying,
Of how, when Giordano
Climbed to his burning
There were no words
In any human tongue
To be left for mankind,
Mankind who live on.
Already they were back at their wine
Or peddled their white starfish,
Baskets of olives and lemons
They had shouldered to the fair,
And he already distanced
As if centuries had passed
While they paused just a moment
For his flying in the fire.
Those dying here, the lonely
Forgotten by the world,
Our tongue becomes for them
The language of an ancient planet.
Until, when all is legend
And many years have passed,
On a great Campo dci Fiori
Rage will kindle at a poet's word.
3.6k
Harried, Harassed, Hassled and Hounded-
These are the H-words I work by.
Harpies and Henchmen, Harridans and Heathens-
These are the H-folk I work with.
Hubbub and Hokum and Hurly-burly-
These are the places I do it.
Hoodlums and Hooligans, loaded with Hubris-
These are the clients I deal with.
Heartless and Horrible, Hateful and Hurtful
These are the attitudes around me.
Hopeless and Hapless, Haggard and Helpless-
This is the way I usually feel.
What happened to Happy, and Hopeful and Harmony-
These are the H-words I search for.
Hinder and Hobble, Heckle and Hamper-
These are the Hamstrings that trip me.
Heaven and Harmony, Humor and Honor-
These are the things that I strive for.
Havoc and Hades, Hurt, Hate and Hauteur-
These are the H’s that I have to conquer.
Hope, Help, and Herculean effort-
Is How I will finally get myself Home.
ljm
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 12:30 AM UTC
Shoot me, You might as well, cause I'm a threat
A threat to your system, a threat to your net
profit and status quo, so pick up that gun shoot me and pray to the ground I go, and when you bury me you better call me a madman and pray that the martyrs don't grow
You may as well shoot me Mr.Police officer,
It may put your employers at ease
One bless black man with a heart of power
One less antibiotic to your disease
Don't forget to tell me I'm resisting, don't forget to tase me til I fall
Don't forget to choke me so those listening won't hear my struggles, my calls
Don't forget to have the media depict me as a **** and a criminal and a menace to society
Don't forget to reprimand and berate me
Remind your older white listeners that my kind, my skin color
is still not considered American Propriety
But more like American property, disposable goods
So **** me, the cameras are recording but don't worry you'll get off free
Might be just a conviction but your Massa's new henchmen and ***** still got the key
A couple months paid administrative leave so you can sit on a beach, drink some ice tea
Mad that you can no longer put chains on our wrists so you put handcuffs instead
No longer pulling whips across our backs so you bury hot burning lead
No longer working your fields for all to see but instead privatized free prison labor with your warden holding the key.
Martin told me when he us that he had a dream
I got his same DNA in my bloodstream
And in every cell in my body I feel the effect, I teem
I boil I scream, when I see a black mother or father gunned down by police men and the children witnessing the death, the blood, the stream.....
I scheme, and when I sleep, I dream
And when I dream it's bad news for you
to avenge those we lost by crimes, undue
To put a stop to all of you.
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 9:13 PM UTC
He intimidate.
Demanded loyalty.
Struck fear in everyone he has known.
Vicious to some.
Kind to others.
But controlled an empire that many rivals would compete for.
Some called him Love.
Some Mario Antonio Love.
But to authorities he Godfather of illegal gains.
A crook by any other name.
Never one to personally ****
He gives the orders for henchmen to do them.
Until one accdentlly killed his daughter.
He repent and apologize.
While guilt tears him up inside.
Aug 12, 2016
Aug 12, 2016 at 1:32 PM UTC
Dinosaur bones, discovered under an overturned rock. Dust-covered and forgotten photos in the attic. The rug pulled out from under us. Highway patrol of a distant creature. I woke up on the wrong side of a very terrible generation. Just when I thought all was good, it wasn’t. Giant ego ruined their reputation. Lost on the beaten path. My faith smells like ***** dishes. Heroes come and go; villains will always be. Dramatization of the fire. It’s up, up and away with a feeling of mutilated pasts. A young woman in a bad man’s dream. Keep a cool head while we enter the jungle. Booby-trapped instincts. This plan was doomed from the start. Let’s go back while we still have two of our appendages. The dog stares at the door, waiting for a Drunk. We both drink, but we’re not arrogant ****** The love I have for a friend of true nature. What’s that in the shadow of the empire? A rebellion. Smoke out the rat. The back door is a fire lane. A simply-put puzzle. Razorblade Cake-Mix. The sound scared the children. Candy from a stranger, candy from a friend, both will likely **** you in the terms of very end. I’ll stand on the first fallen soldier. He doesn’t know me in the meantime. A happy face for all those once told to forget it. My dignity in a department store lost-and-found. Jump for joy, parade for unemployed. A long line of henchmen waiting to be sidekicks. Watch where your education gets you when us dropouts change our pace. You’re better than no one, we’re better than no one, but we faced the facts about this a long time ago. Convincing isn’t working. A dark hole in the bottom of the bird-feeder. No more nourishment for your ill-advised brain.
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 6:17 PM UTC
Arcane rumblings bellow out from the infrastructure.
The secrets swell out from the wealthy infidels. Their water has broken.
The top-hat henchmen gather their whiskers.
Stuttering shock and leaking their whispers,
vulcan-loud.
The wise old casualties know all of what’s to come,
so they pack their sacks with their old guns
to fortify their army of one.
The news skips the billions of ignorant families
condemning daughters and sons to an army of none.
The first bullets abandon their barrels,
the kick-off to pain, from poise.
Eager to byte flesh, fur, faith,
eager to make some godawful noise.
The following blasts are a metallic symphony
Quickly looming, swooning,
booming into cacophony
in shrill-major.
Blood spatters pavement, under marching feet,
is dragged, looped about the streets in a homicide calligraphy,
paralyzing the squinting mercenaries.
Out come the canons,
dancing on their wheels,
silencing the gunfire,
spinning on their heels,
dissenting the sonata with rifle-explosion accompaniment.
Warrior sighs greet the late auxiliary:
armadas sing in baritone
while civilians scream soprano.
Children cry in alto.
Blood flows in legato.
Today some of us will die
so that the rest will open their eyes
to an oversky, cloud-bloated with lies.
While down below we blaze away our requiem.
And by the hand of this same melody we die.
Here lies humanity,
fashioning,
always,
a bellicose smile.
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 10:55 AM UTC
she was a desperado's tale waiting to be told
she had it nailed down to the cold hand drop dead eye
she swaggers into the song
with a loud preamble that she will brook no delay
in the proceedings
the fat man just laughed and broke into another barrel
wine soaking his paris hewn three piece suit
with jewels encrusted by the professional eye
her drunken violin sweeps you along the winding road
of the heroes return
sends you crashing through the pearly gate
and walks you through the dancing beggars
their rags a fine linen
their riches a feast of a frenchmans table
and the sweetest and darkest of wines
her drunkards song weaves in and out of your conscience
with her theft of jewels too many to count
with her rescue of babes defenceless in the wood
she makes her rough love a lullabye
she makes her hard bent hand a soft caress
she is a feast to the starving mans eye
by the final hours of night
the fat man was laughing his way through
the very last barrel of wine
his soaked suit no longer such fine thread
his poorman eye no long longer filled with such easy mirth
he knows she will come collect her due
at the end of her song
the henchmen of karma are approaching with the
steady thud of steel shod boot on the cobblestone
and the fat mans laugh slowly dies in a puddle of
regrets and well wishers sorrows
her song was over and it was time to pay the piper
he tries to run
but as we all know
you cant outrun yourself
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 6:35 PM UTC
There in the trenches
I've seen headless henchmen
Bending spoons
For hapless children
Cremated too soon
Demons croon
They zip
They zag
As the lower class picks their scabs
The gift of gab
Sent towards rips from packs
The rush alone could make one gag!
Have you been there?
Would you go back?
There in the trenches
I've met widows and wives
Carousing with voyeurs
Polishing pikes
Their best years behind
Spent on pyrite-
Euphoric alibis
Which eviscerate bright eyes
Will the Church draw nigh
Or watch the stranded die?
Into the trenches
Few do proudly go
Ash pollutes the snow
Falling like pyrex smoke
You might choke
When violence hits your nose
Deathblows
Thrown by the dead broke
Cross your eyes
And clog your throat
Check your pulse
As an ambulance clears the roads
Would you leave ivory thrones
To reach a people with no hope?
There in the trenches
Christ spent His time
Teaching the poor
Healing the blind
Who are we to stand aghast?
Shrugging our shoulders
Fine wine in antique glass?
When revival comes
Will it move your feet
With Gospel passion
Down the cracking streets?
Could you spare a dime
To prepare a meal
For a drooping reed
With snakebitten heals?
There in the trenches
Good News must flow
Will you remain aloof
Or be the one to boldly go?
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 10:52 AM UTC
The Spirit of Wine
Sang in my glass, and I listened
With love to his odorous music,
His flushed and magnificent song.
--'I am health, I am heart, I am life!
For I give for the asking
The fire of my father, the Sun,
And the strength of my mother, the Earth.
Inspiration in essence,
I am wisdom and wit to the wise,
His visible muse to the poet,
The soul of desire to the lover,
The genius of laughter to all.
'Come, lean on me, ye that are weary!
Rise, ye faint-hearted and doubting!
Haste, ye that lag by the way!
I am Pride, the consoler;
Valour and Hope are my henchmen;
I am the Angel of Rest.
'I am life, I am wealth, I am fame:
For I captain an army
Of shining and generous dreams;
And mine, too, all mine, are the keys
Of that secret spiritual shrine,
Where, his work-a-day soul put by,
Shut in with his saint of saints--
With his radiant and conquering self--
Man worships, and talks, and is glad.
'Come, sit with me, ye that are lovely,
Ye that are paid with disdain,
Ye that are chained and would soar!
I am beauty and love;
I am friendship, the comforter;
I am that which forgives and forgets.'--
The Spirit of Wine
Sang in my heart, and I triumphed
In the savour and scent of his music,
His magnetic and mastering song.
1.2k
Teeth bared like sharp ivory knives
Tonight one of us loses our lives
Eyes glowing a bright neon green
Snarls in the dark show you are evil and mean
I'm blinded by the darkness of night
You best me with the power of night sight
I rely on all other senses possessed
To get me out of the dark and this mess
Eligos and Dantalion have changed guise
Botis and Abalam show how wise
As demonic tricks come into view
I strain my eyes while watching you
The Devil's henchmen due his will
Within the blackened night sky chill
Mathim, Beelzebub, Forneus and Labal
Have been summoned to terrorize all
Incubus, Halphas, Gremory and Ipos
Hover in the mist of night so close
Gusion, Astaroth, Caim and Beleth
Conjure up ways to seal your death
Beasts in the night trolling the skies
With visions of hell burning in their eyes
Patrolling and searching for the evil souls
That were destined to become Satan's coals
Jul 9, 2010
Jul 9, 2010 at 2:04 PM UTC
Friends, you may recall the famous song by ‘Bonny M’ during late1970s, about the infamous RASPUTIN, advisor of the last Russian Emperor Nicholas-II, and lover of the Russian Queen, who was assassinated on 30th December, 1916: ‘’Ra, Ra Rasputin/Lover of the Russian Queen… Russia’s greatest love machine/ It was a shame how he carried on!..’’ Now once again he is reborn as VLADIMIR PUTIN, driving the World to the brink of a Third World War, and is likely to meet a similar fate, unless his cancer overtakes! This is a parody of that lyric I recently composed. – Raj Nandy, 07 May, 2022, New Delhi.
+RUSSIAN RASPUTIN REBORN AS
VLADIMIR PUTIN+
Ra, Ra, Vladimir Putin, with all his
land-grabbing war machines,
With ravenous hunger to swallow
neighboring Countries,
It is really shameful how he carries
on!
Oblivious to human suffering and
pain,
He has brought the World on the
brink of another World War once
again!
Putin became the Russian President
since 2012 as we get to see,
Became a virtual dictator of his country!
Divorced in Two Thousand and Fourteen,
Lives as a frustrated bachelor in Russia
ever since.
People look at him with terror and
dismay as he is full of aggression and
fire!
But to his henchmen and young Russian
maids he is such a lovely dear!
Ra, Ra, Vladimir Putin with his nuclear
bombs and war machines,
It is utterly shameful how he carries on!
He changed his personal guards many a
time afraid of assassination!
Sacrificed his senior generals and
countless soldiers in his ceaseless war
of aggression,
To glorify his personal ambition!
Now to save Ukraine and the World,
May the Devil soon come to claim its
very own. {See photo)
Ra, Ra, Vladimir Putin, with his many war
machines,
It is utterly shameful how he carries on!
Oh! Those Ruthless Russians!
…………………………………………………………………………..
May 7, 2022
May 7, 2022 at 11:00 AM UTC
"For all the air that's in your lungs,
For all the joy that is to come,
For all the things that you're alive to feel,
Just let the pain remind you hearts can heal."
And Darling, we all have a little demon called "sadness" sleeping in all of us. You may not know it but it attacks sometimes, if not always, randomly and openly. It will call upon its henchmen "grief", "stress" or "heartbreak", to name a few out of many others. They will bite you individually, or all at once. Your head or heart may ache; your eyes are going to bleed salty tears.
But let me assure you- everything will be okay. The pain of this world is temporary. Never take it seriously. You are not yet a goner, and you won't be as long as you find and keep hope. Your hope may come in an animal, a person, an experience. And you will learn from it.
My dear, it is okay to feel empty once in a while. It only proves more that there is more space for many, newer things out there that can fill you up. To be honest, it does not mean you're greedy either, it only means your capacity as a better living person has grown. And you are going to love searching for things that make you happy; for happiness.
The negatives need to be there and it is impossible to extinguish them because they put a flag to what is the positive, and vice versa. This world is a magnet, and opposites attract. You may be a negative person but you'll mostly fall in love with a positive person, because he or she will get the magnetic pull inside them that you'll need them. You may be a positive person and you'll fall in love with s negative person, to save him from living the lonely, outcast life. Zen is never acquired without ying or yang; colors can never be achieved without black or white. Feelings can never be feelings without sadness or happiness. Life won't be life without death or survival.
To top it off, I'd like to say everything tomorrow will always end up better than yesterday. If it's not tomorrow, then the day after tomorrow, and so forth. You just need to have the will and the hope for it all. You'll be better than okay, stronger than fine. It might take you a day, or years.
Never stop living. Take all the time you need.
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 12:17 PM UTC
WE need to come to terms....
war is an occupation of neanderthals
the love of oil and flame afoul residue
hiding the crimes burying the victims
remorse the oceans depth squandered
the forest shrinking the oxygen 40%
of each breath the rest the 1% pollution
the eminent camouflage of male genitalia
the middle class you have maligned
the human race set male fashion
holding the weapons to our head
Our bodys soar the living of life
yet you have grounded us to the life
of a caveman not a human .....
You makers of government that have concealed
democracy within your paychecks big smiles
developing the 1% riches wealth in Senate
and House of Representative to ensure
the millennium of status quo for you 1%
Earth the planet reaction will **** you
your crimes of treason not be hidden here
WE the people slaughtered with in the crimes
the ****** the 1% henchmen ruling feudalistic
regime waging war against the beloved humanity
open borders to weaken democracy
stifle education allow cheap labor cave men
the Evangelical consortium world wide
man made 6th extinction of Earth under way
WHO will ride out the apostolic 2100 century
all humanity's taxes to rule the Earth with weapons
no survivors to further education humanity
a forgotten dream the 1% the survivor
using out dated technologies to keep the profits
will the people rise again to defend
my voice above the **** of mind
tell me Earth people how do we survive
to stop the making of weapons
the pumping of fossil fuels
tell me Earth people how do we survive
the false god of christianity the muslim devil
Earth is a paradise of living star dust creation
WE live in the womb of mother earth
breath thru your nose draw in a full breath relax
fill your body with oxygen
breath with me in and out
relax let the truth lead you
to where you go next....gjmars 6/22/15
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 6:40 PM UTC
I feel so alone
Floating in a sea
Of humanity
This mystery
Is beyond me
Where can I go?
If I slip
Out of the stream
They will know.
Our henchmen
Do not permit
Dissention
Or
Absention
I am frozen in time
Stuck in an unwritten rhyme
Sean Hunt
See video that inspired this poem at:
https://vimeo.com/162596231
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 1:20 PM UTC
Hard Topics more or less Essential?
To speak your mind raise your voice
Your choice
Life fundamentals which are potentially not fun to mention or list them in a Corrupt System
That is Systematically
Problematic
Absurd to merge these choice words
with opposing verbs
To please the Masses
Seeing how The Watchers watch
and observe from an Orbital distance
For they have their Watchmen and henchmen but not to be confused with
Jehovah's true or 2 witness
For the rings of Saturn have
dangerous curves
These here I recognize as anti-Christ like
or anti-Christian affiliated or anything
remotely anti-Christ or anti-
Christian
Like a one world Religion
I'm talking NWO false prophetic enlisted
Tricksters mixed in with vicious
Political figures
No figment of my imagination
hearsay or a conspiracy with a twist
I'm just down for exposing
Who's Who
Call me a Conspiracist
with a list
No.. better yet
I'm more like a Realist
with a real list
And no I'm not Heaven sent
or Hell bent on the descension of
your opinions
Because I have my own Ascension
to ascend to
With other worldly entities from other
Dimensions against me
Who hate me for being Christ affiliated
and Christ opinionated
With a whole unholy Nation sanctioned
to alienate me with more hatred?
Big Mistake
For I'll just debate it as being Under-estimated
And hold true to the Essentials
of Life fundamentals
Unabated
Jul 14, 2020
Jul 14, 2020 at 2:25 PM UTC
While I see trains pass a hour in my past are hoping that I can rebuild a fallen staff.
Its 1 o'clock no police men to decant a crime committed by henchmen watching startled for the love of cash.
How many snakes are camouflaged in this land of mine planting landmines to realign a **** boys aim.
Kind a strange to live a life blind folded in areas a beef is cooked cause your a project of the innocents.
How should I remember this, a partition signed by those that are ignorant in a enormous clique of amateur extortionist.
Low as hell snorting short lines of drug substances getting high off there own supply of sugar cain.
A long range of rage walking down blocks ****** a long list of coke heads on cold streets overdosed.
Shots of comatoses, breaking oxygen flowing through my brain feeling deranged about the faint choices made.
Regarding a future for a young boy to walk amongst endangered jungles, force fields and muzzles for a dog trained to ****
Steal made to be loaded by bullets filled gunpowder for war showers filled with wannabe gangstahs.
It goes like that as well as United States embacies remembering a war stopping time from 39 to 45.
>>>UNDER CONSTRUCTION<<<
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 9:53 PM UTC
Third world livin' is the intention
While im.sittin' in Satan's detention
Need I mention all the little henchmen
Trolls streamin' tag teamin'
Nothin' but government covert
Intervenin' &. schemin'
Tryna see who's conscious and who advocates the nonsense
Big brother watching with there Rolex's tick tocking no need for.knocking
Kick down the doors walk through the corridors
of the media studios blast everybody I see
Set the Islamic bombs then escape free
Catastrophe givin' by me
It's me the prophet of Lost Destiny it God in me
And I'll be labeled an adversary to the epitome
jailed with no bail ain't no freedom.of speech
New world we'll slaughter fools ain't gettin' smarter
Wise up young blood wipe the crud out my eyes
Cuz brighter days are comin' Techs is hummin'
Armageddon World War III will be summoned
Millions of souls being rapture
Takin' captive
By the Muthafuckin' Puppet masters
As I travel through time
Deep in my mind
Hip hop approachin' the flat line
Nigguhs in blackface lookin' disgrace
Wipe the smiles off Satan's face
Corporate Companies ****** up our unity
Dictatin' what to play in our community
They say it ain't about race
But I'm lookin' with my optics
White audience is the topics makin' hot profits
Got nigguhs minds lynched my fist clinched
Punch out the airwaves and the medias a and how they portray
US want us to keep the guns bust
Ashes to ashes dust to dust
Breakin' off America's Pie Crust I don't eat it
From.the ******** they feedin'
Rockin' craniums im.from the slums
Makin' liberals go crazy mental in an asylum
So as the beat goes on I'm gonna continue strong
No hate for whites but hate for whites that push that ******** black stereotypes
Deep aim wipe my snipe wipe
Out competition **** the FCC commission
As my visions progresses movin' faster
Eradictin' my enemies that are servant to the fuckin' Puppet Masterssssss
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 2:40 PM UTC
We hear the sounds of approaching thunder
Drowning out the cries and pleas
Of people calling out for freedom--
Urgent calls in times like these!
March!
We hear the words that spit and sputter--
That splatter against mellifluous sounds
Of peace, of hope, of promise, of caring,
Creating verbal battlegrounds.
March!
We see the dark and threatening clouds
Looming above, waiting to rain
On love and reason. The winds of hatred
Equal the force of a hurricane.
March!
We see around the neck of compassion
A cruel, ever-tightening noose,
While the henchmen multiply--
A surge of bigotry on the loose.
March!
We feel in our hearts the constant longing
For dreams that should be guaranteed
By thoughtful laws and not by decisions
Forged from ignorance, power, and greed.
March!
We feel the sadness, pain, and despair
Of all who are trampled and left behind,
Of all whose rights are being denied,
Of all who are hated and maligned.
March!
We know that we can transcend bias;
When myth prevails, wisdom departs.
We can flourish by wisely removing
The chains of intolerance from our hearts.
March!
We know that we have the potential
To live in a country governed by laws
Embracing all the people here
And freeing us from tyranny's claws.
March!
March to demonstrate solidarity
With others who hear the urgent call.
March together in peace for social
And economic justice for all!
March!
-by Bob B (1-31-17, 1-17-18)
*This is an update and reposting of my Jan 2017 poem.
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 11:20 AM UTC
We got a god thing going here
We got gun runners and *** runners
Nice and furtive
I will not go to the penitentiary
I'll get a face lift if I have to
She knows too much
Give her a party favor
That represents our colonial ways
Gingivitis
It's a hoot
Halitosis
Pass the ammunition
No flash photography
Bump some coke
Before the search and seizure
Of puzzled looks
Some can't deal with this safari maze
Mutter a prayer for human error
It's first come first served
A double helix goodie-bag
Stomp the home schooled henchmen
Mace them and throw the grenade
It's too close for comfort
And that's the gist of it
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
Did you support that Donald Trump in his campaign last year?
Why didn't all his hatefulness fill you with dread and fear?
Did you believe his B.S. or did you hate Hillary
so much that you preferred a **** who likes to grab pu--y?
At some point did you realize the truth he cannot tell,
when he fibbed about inaugural crowds and voter fraud as well?
When he misled you on healthcare, did you finally agree
that lying just like breathing; both come to him naturally?
And what about his henchmen, tangled up with Russian ties
to the Kremlin and the oligarchs, in cahoots with Putin's spies?
When Trump heaped praise on Vladimir, were you just too blind to see,
or did you hope that your leader would be Comrade Trumpsky?
Oh how could this have happened? What an awful, global mess!
A big buffoon's in power, do you finally confess?
Did your vote help to elect him? To the Whitehouse was he sent
because in a fit of madness, you said "Trump for President"?!
'cause in a fit of madness, you said TRUMP-FOR-PRESIDENT?!
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 7:19 PM UTC
Pacing empty sidewalks,
Chasing insubstantial things,
I a sheep without a shepherd
Fear the silence. As it rings,
I watch the traveler dance,
Slipping from shadow to silhouette,
Passing charletans, in Retrospect,
Undeserving of regret,
Unnaturally cold and
Teeming with thoughts of sin.
Their whispers wonder carelessly,
Riding like vapor on the wind.
"Your lie is my salvation", I muttered,
And in response was spoken,
"Your flaw is imitation,
And your will is finally broken",
Scattered across the Planes,
Indistinguishable in the dust and gloom.
I the champion of Martyrdom
Lie gracefully in my tomb.
Beneath where the nightshades bloom,
For Nature's rage to consume,
The coup de gras in Her machination,
I provoke Her henchmen as they loom.
Here to repossess Her time and toil,
For misuse of Her ethereal gift,
She cleanses the canvas in lavender oil,
And sets Her new vessel adrift.
We, weary, wake and wallow,
In search of another creature,
Waiting for someone to follow,
Just floating in the ether.
Dec 13, 2011
Dec 13, 2011 at 1:10 PM UTC
What more can be said in a dream when the world is a nightmare stream?
The great golden papers are being shredded
Open your eyes
All the mountains and ashes from the buildings in your dreams
Are now here for all of your eyes to see
The unseen men with no names
Watch us swallow each other whole as they control our stage
The public are desensitized, for with no more truths, you might as well believe the lies
The false idols are henchmen for something much bigger
Entertainment, the great distraction, helps us forget it won't be long
Before another pulls the trigger
The endless wars, our own worst enemies
Are the ones we have been fighting for
How can we comprehend, as We The People,
That our caste system: The poor, middle, upper, and Beyond
Are as One, All equal?
The Eagle of Freedom flies
Captured by Truth and Justice
Starved and caged, slowly he dies
Hand over your hard earned money and citizen rights
Under the flag you stand, next to the great Uncle
Reflections of red, white and blue: Oh, colours so bright!
We are just an experiment, animals in the zoo
We are watched and studied, too
The media and its advertising, the fishing bait
Poisoned by consumption, Trust and don't ask questions
For, as you know, it's the American way
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 8:09 PM UTC
old saint bob
whacks a hefty tune out on a beer barrel
full of noise and nuance
like a dammed version of samson
tearing down these city walls
and like a blessed version of delilah
walking in mystical light
saint bob has a penny opera vocal
on his thin mans frame
but all the pretty girls say he's got a voice like sin
and the eyes of an angel
they are all a-flutter at his nearness
hes there just off shore if you look with care
old saint bob and elston gunn
had taken to the waves hoping
to be saltwater henchmen in such grand style
only to be shipwrecked in the strip malls
of suburbia with the catholic schoolgirls and
the paint by number sinners and saints
old saint bob and the charlatans of love and loathing
sit with a *** runner and swap sea stories
on the deck of an english privateer called penance
hoping to salvage the folly of their youth
but they have drank themselves to a fitful slumber
and the *** runner has fled with the gold
while all good sailors romance ladies of spain
old saint bob held out an old tin cup
and a hooligans song
by the sunbelt highway
one of the lover girls by his side
she so in love with his rough jester lost and lonely style
he will make it home someday
but he will only come if it can be
with a peg leg and a parrot on his shoulder
in grand style
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 3:11 PM UTC