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"hypnotists" poems
In Morrissey fuel and cigarette vice, a map pinned up with dreams of travel, in eyes darkened and swollen wrists, in paralysed belonging to established hypnotists of hunger, of servitude and self-discipline, of not nurturing the childhood nestled within, and of friends now fable, and of friends ill-spent, now is the time for the young man's repent.
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Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 9:37 PM UTC
Young Man's Repent
The other night I spent at a barn party, A hole mess of disgruntled youth, Each writhing like mystics caught in a trance. Each with their own glow-stick crowns, Funneling through their brains , Comatose limbs and lashing tongues. Goodbye my sweet children, As I watch them sputter down the drain, An entire generation lost to the Euphoria Of crazed spin doctor hypnotists. Each running for a new glass of punch, Loud electro-pulsing angst fills the air, How dare he blow his smoke at me. ***** lines and failed acrobats, Wild youth and ****** veterans. Each morning, wake up, Teacher tells you you’re wrong, Go home, get in bed, Wait for dreams to come like waves Crashing down overhead on your sweet pillow. Never has the true disgust come out, Drunken women throwing themselves at me, Twisting and jeering to the rabid pulsation, I cannot find him. Fighting through an endless sea of ecstasy, Brief Nostalgia takes hold. It is gone, gone like the wind blows, Through tunnels, over oceans. Will I see the light of day again? Maybe, Just one more glimpse of the sun.
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Sep 12, 2010
Sep 12, 2010 at 1:52 PM UTC
One More Glimpse of the Sun
**Nocturnal hypnotists cultivating their herds work they say but they don't pay or at least not very much** Acid Dreams Lucid screams a hazy comfort cloak Rabid schemes and neon scenes thickly veiled in smoke Trance people dance in slaving swing chirping sound of sickness like birds w/ broken wings Weekenders w/ tongues tabbed tie-dyed eyes awaiting for the cosmic ride
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Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 4:52 PM UTC
Acid dreams
what if everything you see is a trickery, picture is flickering, the world is full of misery. Why do you celebrate hypocrites? Why do you listening hypnotists? Turn off the world and feel yourself, deal with yourself, reveal yourself. yeah you can buy anything except love and clear consciousness, because the monsters hide there, not under the bed.
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Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 6:16 PM UTC
I dunno