"hitlers" poems
It wasnt long before the baluster flapped somewhere in the distance and Icarus knew how old he had been on the day of his birth. For whatever reason, the snow capped cappuccinos he had willfully destroyed in a heated debate on fiscal policy had him beginning again. Why was there always a beginning where there was an end? Fur traders used to circumnavigate the Hudson's Bay of his humanity when he was young, sharing drinks and fire water whiskey like it was all an H2O ready for the soul search. Sadly, many ended up in Hitlers concentration camps weeks after the **** invasion of Poland, about a month or so before the fall of the Roman Empire. Beginning with a last breath, Icarus strode off the plank with a new-found confidence unnatural in his niceties of long past. It was as if 1 minute and 35 seconds was enough to dish a clamouring populace onto the dinner table before the fat step-father gleefully orders
everyone to 'dig in, everyone!'
Cancelling everyone's appointment with Dr. Pardon meant the gaining of a key participatory certificate in El Dorado, and the gold lingering in dusty sun-beams was sifted for the taking. Some got rich, the rest got miserable. The rest used to imagine the gold, staring at ivory towers and lottery tickets, apple cores lording over old public servant applications near the city hall drain pipes as the modern world collapsed into a flash-mob image of Ronald Reagan.
Icarus was a sliver of duskish light flittering a top distant windowsills, all cupped in an intentional light because happiness was as possible as sadness. Not that considering either would make you either.
Icarus slept as his wings incinerated at the first glimpse of the solar system. He now believed every single proverb the old ***** slumbers had whispered their children as they woke to find themselves adults.
In the beginning he found the beginning beginning again. It made him feel however you wish. Both were just as possible. Both were just as much a jazz configuration as a smooth and easy guitar rift.
Ahha!
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 5:31 PM UTC
Goodbye dictatorships, you're no good for anyone now, no more hitlers, no more chairman maos.
Goodbye dictatorships, no more killing, no more ruining lives, no more wars, no more fights.
Goodbye dictatorships, we don't want you anymore, you make people racist, you make people poor.
Goodbye dictatorships, you're time has passed, no more censorship, no more heads of states stealing all the cash.
Goodbye dictatorships, it is time for you to go, no more feeding propoganda, no more controlling what people know.
Goodbye dictatorships, and let freedom rule. Goodbye dictatorships, we don't want you. Goodbye dictatorships, let people break their chains, Goodbye dictatorships, and let anarchy reign!
Goodbye dictatorships, let people break their chains, Goodbye dictatorships, and let anarchy reign!
Jun 3, 2011
Jun 3, 2011 at 1:03 AM UTC
1.complete th bridge to the moon started by
Jules Verne and raise the Nautilus..
2.Rebuild the colossus of Rhodes to spec.
3.Take a trip to John Gotti's summer home and split a bottle of Boones
Farm apple wine with him and Emelia.
4. Pull a small sample of bone marrow from Hitlers shriveled corpse for a
Little cloning project that I have been working on.
5.get a head count on all the politicians in the capital who don't consider
Their position a life long free ride with no accountability to the masses..
6. Resurect the cold fusion argument.
7. Run a sub 2 minute mile.
8.kick Tysons but with my right hand tied.
9.mix the perfect martini
10. Start all over again.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 6:19 PM UTC
She was stripped and ***** before millions,
but she made herself believe it was not us but few aliens;
why else do you think she stands ***** gathering all her resilience,
to provide us food, oxygen and shelter throughout the four seasons.
Every night, she wonders about her fate at dawn,
Would she be able to greet the sun with that lazy yawn;
Her mates are dead in a battle they had forgone,
Now, she awaits her turn, death is pleasing than being forlorn.
Consumed with fear, the leaves once fresh, now greyed and withered,
She is too pained to decide whether to fight or stay a coward;
Before the first cut of axe, she asks “what have I erred?”,
But we have long since lost our sensitive hearts, her cries are left unheard.
What goes around comes around, do we realize that?
Every tree lost makes the world less amiable to adapt,
having brutally sinned, are we ready to face the impact?
Our acts let them bleed; now let’s get ready to don their hat.
We can’t give birth to a battalion to fight the nature’s army,
Coz our Hitlers and Napoleons are no match for their blazing heat or tsunami.
These are conflicts, which cannot be resolved by a bishop or an attorney,
we are adhered to doom when the nature says “the war is between you and ME”.
The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago; the second best time
is now – a Chinese proverb
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 4:59 AM UTC
Never sleeping
no more dreaming
no more hope.
Dragging the souls of the old
whipped by demons
and constant screems in my head.
Flesh stripped from your body
dipped in oceans of salt
forced to eat your own brains
and drink acid water.
That's only if you were one of the good ones
the pure evil
the Hitlers of the world
Torn limb to limb
burned, drowned, hung
no food or drink
given a tiny bit of hope
but then taken away again
Eyes burned with blow torches
and left to dangle out of the socket
An itch that can not be scratched for eternity
you become a zombie
you never sleep
you never dream
you lose all hope
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 6:52 PM UTC
I found myself in a record shop
Which got me all to wondering
How these bands all got their names
And wouldn't it be summon
If I went through all the racks
And pulled them randomly
What it is that I would find
To solve this mystery
When this idea hit me
I was standing before the M's
So based upon that simple fact
Is where this journey begins
Mega Death-You must be kidding!
Are theses guys for real?
How big a death do you have to die
Before your still road ****
I decided to jump around
To get the full effect
Can not help but wonder
At what will pop up next
Oh, lookie here...Butt Hole Suffers
I bet their momma's proud
When those guys hang ten
Are they surfing in or surfing out
I came across Badfinger
In an old 70's record bin
I'm telling you the honest truth
I don't care to know where that fingers been
Over yonder a band called The, The
The, The...What?!
Then there's Chumbawamba
Chumbawamba...Whoba?!
This may all sound a bit far fetched
But it's the honest to goodness truthba!
The H's are holding Hoobastank
The closest I can figure
Is that the guys in this band
Hang out with Badfinger
Albino Toilet Boys
Cottage Cheese From The Lips Of Death
My Dog Has Hitlers Brains
Norman Bates And The Shower Heads
Poultry In Motion
Brady Bunch Lawn Mower Massacre
**Roid Rodgers And The Whirling **** Cherries**
Are today's record shop de jour
As I'm leaving out the door
Arms piled high with newly purchased song
I grab the last copy of **Yoko ****
For soothing dinner music later on
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 8:29 AM UTC
In the bain marie of life
The boiling,
evaporated
water underneath,
Scolds untrained fingers and hands.
Unscathed are the extremities of workers who serve:
Little Hitlers and Maos,
awaiting to have their egos inflated, and their endowments stroked.
All so they can perpetrate atrocities in a world craving for more, entertainment.
All so they can penetrate their
animosity
towards girls craving for more
containment.
Prepare ingredients in metal tray, made from
Futuristic technology. Erected steel, carved and shaved,
moulded to perfection.
Finesse in
Postmodern civilisation,
Allowing hungry
Delinquent to stuff
cake holes with garbage.
Gruel, bangers, tripe and trotters, spotted **** black pudding, haggis, bulls testicles.
Plastic.
Gum, and wrapper.
Thrown,
in bin.
Mess and stink.
Perforating orifices and permeating nasal passageways.
Kitchen sink,
The end of day arrives
Sanitation process occurs.
The end of shift awaits.
She takes off sweat filled hair cap,
Takes off juice stained chef pants.
Kicks off steel capped boots.
Pulls out
Smelly,
Sock.
Rest in bed,
to awake for new day.
Gravity raises the sun.
Rinse and repeat
bain marie
reheat.
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 11:03 AM UTC
you shed your androgyny in front of me
like the leaking of a dead poets mouth
prized convinction your are the killer of these things
bitten by your sharp nails
our souls blood is splattered on the wall
like a child's mess
we held hands and ran through the streets of wynwood
both nervous at the thought of people watching the passion
strangers who like to be alone
woven together in a harmonious mesh
we came across faces
and stood in that one corner and looked at that murial
on the cement wall
screaming out its makers message
in a thousand different emotions that linked to our past
I would tug your curls and they would bounce
you watched me smoke my cigarette
put on your artist eyes and pictured a painting in your head
using my ghost skin for your next piece
you drank my skin like milk hungrily
and I felt when my insides dripped down the
corners of your mouth
I throw my hands up in the air
and ask what can break me more than this
I sat in your kitchen in all black
and watched you cook me that fish, a recipe you probably
called your mother to ask for
you opened a bottle of white wine
we carried our glasses and sat outside
while I lit a smoke
your yard seemed like it was a haven for
bohemian children trying to escape South Florida's
cement buildings
you put your arm around me
and I nestled my head into your chest
at that moment I told myself here is the line
standing in front of me thick and red
shouting its warnings like old tapes of Hitlers speeches
preparing his soldiers to **** innocent children
and there it was standing like every sensitive poem I have ever read
like every painting that had a heart beat
like every smile my mother has ever shed
that red streak was not a finish line
but the beginning of something that would have turned into happy
years perhaps or just many painful nights, where I find it hard to breathe
and I thought to myself I can fall in love right now
I layed there listening to your heart beat
you kissed my forehead
I raised my head to look into your eyes
and before I brought myself to make a decision
before I started feel my heart loose
I was already walking away to the place I have known the most
Feb 13, 2011
Feb 13, 2011 at 11:20 AM UTC
Every night,
when the sun disappears
behind the tenements,
I sit on my balcony
to witness
the sinister congregation
pooled under
the lone
flickering
streetlamp.
Fueled on petrol,
they holler
explicit expletives
holding their palms
high in the air
Heiling Hitlers
as they middle-finger
the scooting passer-byers.
And I think to myself,
what ******* fools,
they'd be the first to go
if the **** ever went down,
carrying their inked swastikas
like totally clueless mad clowns.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 7:32 AM UTC
I finally made it
To the end of the road
My life told
A good story
What can one do
When the inevitable occurs
Of course, you can fight
And act
As if your antics
Weren't worthless
In fact
You can work less
If you're aware
Of whats the worse
That can happen
The happening happens every minute
Which happens to be
The time
For a hundred tenants
To get evicted
Check the census
And since its
Seconds
That fullfill
Like fantasies
I'll write a fiction
A fraction
Of the factions
Would still
Be in action
Whose actions
Are
Half as cruel
as Hitlers?
Huiessen's
or Stalins?
20 million scream
"Joseph!"
But a child disagrees
And speaks the words
"Barely a third."
So many
Executions
Jesus Christ!
What would you do
The only man
To die
And come back to life
The truth comes to light
But lies lurk in shadows
How shady
Maybe
In May
We can see it all
And to my dismay
This just may be
Already fall
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 1:03 AM UTC
If this was part of Hitlers game,
Why then do we make the claim,
That it helps women and Jews the same,
But Its really just another name,
For Evil.
Pointed sticks that face the sun,
Stolen homicidal guns,
Evil men that stand there stunned,
Even though they wanna run,
Its futile.
Guns that fire, guns that stun,
Apparently are fit for none,
Believing them seems pretty dumb,
They've shown how they are human ****
They're insane.
In my pocket, digging around,
Looking for every last dollar and pound,
When your not happy with what you've found,
Its time for you to send the hound,
You thieves!
But those who say "power to you",
Are accused of the things they would never do,
Attacked and burned for every break through,
Punched for wanting a better view,
You are the problem.
Protested for wanting to free you all,
Beat up for wanting a freedom call,
They say freedom is a right to all,
But the others they make their stories tall,
And I say that's not fascism, its Tuesday.
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 12:57 PM UTC
the european concern, these days, is to utilise words: without an allahu akbar conviction... how certain is this: hollowing-out of language... before a meaning of life is attested, it's the truancy of meaning in language that's worth being investigated... how pulverising is this: hollowing out of words... and whichever word might denote ethnic antagonism: i utilise as shallow ventures, drowning face-down in a puddle... that's not me: about to start a ku klux manifesto... these days it's really about excuses... how best to excuse oneself from the fact that: we think we're living in a village (given the internet), but in fact: this metropolis, gargantuan, is choking us... on the daily basis of being congested, constipated: in a commute. me? sometimes itchy for a verbal-diarrhoea.
it was an experimental procedure....
in south wales, Glasbury,
i was the sole white boy
sitting with the Cadbury crew...
subsequent reasoning follows:
what are the boundaries of language,
and what's the standard etiquette?
a reaction, i guess:
people at s.o.a.s. saying you shouldn't
read Kant.
**and if language can't cushion
violence...
if language can't cushion violence...**
and if language is subjected to the many
internet little hitlers and snowflakes...
i might just be sued for
copyright infringements when i use any
word of my liking...
sooner or later it'll all look a bit like:
the A to Z... with © before every word.
language is supposed to cushion violence...
if this motto is disavowed...
alt-right neo-con
and when my ethnicity was
compared to rats...
i'd like to hear jazz from
auschwitz... or the blues...
or rap, for that matter...
are cruel as it sounds, there was no extermination
procedure with the blacks in america...
someone evidently spoke of basketball
breakdance and all that african cool...
now we can say: african-american,
shame we can't say mohawk the same way...
culinary problems...
the reds didn't use enough spices
and craft the taj mahal broth...
and if my ancestors were a bunch of
*************
no wonder news outlets speak of
premature depression among the post-colonial
children of this hue.
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 10:41 AM UTC
atheistic scissors:
the definite article (the)
& the indefinite article (a)
so as consciousness
begins within the context
of a- (loss) of ego,
it's still a persistent
direct article (the)...
thus the unconscious
begins within the context
of no a- (loss) of ego to begin
with; meaning:
there was never any ego
to begin with...
i.e. an invoking
of an indirect article;
the randomness of dreams,
and our lack of control
thereof...
i still persist in thinking
that the subconscious
if fake, the medium easily
abused by sophistry
or therefore a lack of...
i.e. in proper disguise,
guiding the most effective
subversion of
the righteous vectors...
nonetheless,
to me there are still only two incissors
into an anti-freudian compass
of directing a marathon's course,
no trinity, no three tier
encompass of an "identity"...
no **** sapiens* either...
the split (schizoi) man...
beginning with the scissors
that are united within
the grammatical
category of articles,
such that we always seem to be
reduced toward legal terms
of the american constitution
and their amendments:
revisions that
become reiterations...
and what original?
what original?!
there was never any original
by current-affairs' standards!
id and the unconscious,
superego and the subconscious,
ego and consciousness -
hence the quasi-noun status of
index finger's
pressure "pointing"
at something,
that's a quality focus,
that descriptive mechanism
conjuring noun-foci,
that are nothing
but tarantula bites
of injecting the venom
of frau zensieren,
and yes, the practice is
feminine,
in the continental sense
moving outside the safety of
approving gender to
inanimate objects....
that are also noun-pools
of quicker-stepping in a tango
of spreschen...
some verbs can be
elevated to the nonsense
in the anglophone zeitgeist of
now... gender neutrality
cannot exist in the pronoun
category...
go to quebec,
and order a gender neutral
noun's worth of a coffee &
a bagel...
while sitting on a homosexual
chair, resting your elbows
on a hermaphrodite table...
looking at a "cis-gender" wall,
while talking lesbian
about animal rights...
you know that cain was a vegetarian?
these days russia
looks so much less menacing that
mainstream media deems it to be
so...
in this war, which is cold war II...
u.s.a. is the enemy...
sorry...
but when every citizen turns into
a *babushka ******
fuck it, i'm out, i'm bankrupt...
i can appreciate a ****** in a position
of power within a government...
but when ordinary people
turn into hitlers?!
**** it... i'm out...
i'm playing poker with a joker card.
Jun 28, 2017
Jun 28, 2017 at 1:32 PM UTC