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Andrew Rueter Aug 2017
***** is the only language I know
Burning brightens anguish that grows
Like the blinding light the sun shows
A star providing life
While simultaneously burning me
As I dream of turning free
Floating here I sail a sea
Of words that hurt
And kick up dirt
Of actions that keep stacking
Of factions that keep attacking
Of agency that I'm lacking
To change any of these things
Or the sorrow they bring

The sun's assault through trees
Scorches the dirt off of me
In a world on fire
Incinerators are the cleanest places
In a hateful empire
Interpreters are unwelcome faces
And we continue to count the paces
Until we master mudslides
And we continue to erase the traces
Of our humanity under dirt

We live in this sandstorm
Brought by man's scorn
We attempt to grow corn
But the dusty fields remain barren
When the sun that used to activate photosynthesis
Now burns all the young seeds to a crisp
The seeds are now manufactured
As people wait for the rapture
Unable to see salvation starts here on Earth
And it starts with us cleaning up dirt
Keith W Fletcher May 2016
You think your children are being educated
But they're actually being ego deflated
They aren't being  taught
How to form a thought
Because ...
That's not good for the machine .

You hear the fringe word
meditation
As if it's some kind of voodoo
incantation

Instead they want you to be fed
A steady stream of entertainment
As a way of keeping containment

Off the Grid
Off the  grid
The inspector said
We can't be having that
Regulations regulations regulations
Thats all he had to say
Truth be known ...
.....he was just a clone
Latest model on display

Notice how the men in blue
Are becoming almost savage...
....In their  demeanor
As they are primed to follow blind
The Crooked Mind
Of the Master overseer
So totally convinced
That they never even sensed
They never were...
  ..really
A volunteer

Primed and loaded
Each one having been pre - coded
By the educators in the classrooms

That are
The soul burning incinerators
Burning away every trace
Of any human emotions
While swallowing down
Steroid laced
Psychotic mind bending potions

As the rest of us are being fed...
... instead
Of our daily bread

Mind bending views
Prepackaged news
To keep us all shuffled up
Off center
So as to totally confuse

That way we don't ever wonder
Why we choose
Once we find we're standing
In the line to buy the latest toys
  Keeping our  heads filled..
..with noise

That way
We don't have any time to think
As long as everyone behaves.
They'll never know
That they are slaves  

No shackles , chains or wooden canes  
To keep the masses in production
We have the latest must-haves ..
.... new introductions. 
 
But time to sit and think......
That's not what the machine wants
Us to do !

That's not
In the latest matrix

Silencing the external
In search of those things
That should be ETERNAL

Will make you unfit for society
As your number is etched
Into
The overseers recorder
In this ....
...THE NEW WORLD ORDER.
Alessander Feb 2015
.................................................................­.................................................................­...

                          It was there heating
                                            sloping cavernous craniums

                         It was there illuminating
              marble hallways

         It was there immolating
                              witches at stakes

                                     Its fierce essence
                          frightens wilder-beasts

                                   Its mesmerizing radiance
  lures moths to annihilation

                       When in love, we often become
             both wilder-beast and moth

                As children, we learn
             to leap back from the flame

                               When old, we are rolled
                 into iron incinerators

                                    And every day between
   We are encompassed by suns
                       We are consumed by flickering passions

                                  We set-off firecrackers
                           for amusement

               We light candles
                                     to measure time

                         Veladoras to whisper
                                 to gods

                                          Fire is Life

                                      Something in us will
                                            forever burn.
AFR Apr 2015
I Stood
I stood when my friends were ripped from my arms
I stood when I couldn't buy food from stores
I stood when they took my house
I stood when my house was burned down
I stood as I started to suffocate in a car
I stood as my hair was ripped away
I stood when I became a number
I stood with everything I had ever known was gone
Starving, alone, beaten, and rejected I stood
I stood for days through the tears of the sky
I stood with the heat from the incinerators burning my back
I stood as I was whipped and told I was worthless
I stood as the people I loved screamed for help
I stood with tears streaming down my face
I stood as I got hungrier and hungrier
I stood as my clothes ripped and were torn
I stood when I was told to fall down
I stood as the Lord asked me to join him
I stood as they laughed at me
I stood for those who couldn't stand anymore
I stood thinking of everything that I could never see again flashed through my head
I stood until my legs grew weak
I fell onto my knees
I knelt as the rocks stuck to my knees
I knelt when I was bitten by dogs
I knelt before the Lord as I gave up
I laid on my back
I laid on my back as my face turned red
I laid on my back as I was walked upon
I laid on my back when there was no more food
When I started to close my eyes a hand reached out
I grasped the hand and went back onto my knees then I was standing again
I stood again but this time I stood with help
I stood as I tasted food for the first time
I stood as I was warmed by a blanket
I stood until I didn't need help
**I stood until I was free
About a prisoner during WWII being saved
AM Jul 2019
What were they if two intoxicated believers,

Unraveling their lust in the dark.

What were they if two poisoned liars,

Swallowing the truths from each other's past.

What were they if two amateur thieves,

Robbing breaths from each other's mouth.

What were they if two lost souls,

Wandering on each other's doubts.

What were they if two thirsty wrestlers,

Fighting their way onto each other's core.

What were they if two night walkers,

Crossing lines they could no longer ignore.

What were they if two masked incinerators,

Lighting flames onto their future ghosts.

What were they if two tangled shadows,

Obscuring the light on their souls.

What were they if two desperate silhouettes,

Drinking poison from each other's bodies.

What were they if two broken prisoners

Trying to free each other from their stories.
#prisoners #love #toxic
Shaquille Reid Jan 2018
We bow our heads as the night ends with a slumber,
To drift away into an eternal rift.
'Tis the season,
but yet....
I wonder
Who was it really
to bless "us"
with such a perfect gift.
The Abilities we possess are below our
understanding.
We turn off
only to turn on
like
Televisions when you switch them on.
The back up generator,
Injects incinerators,
Flooding arteries,
Until the inner greater,
Presumes to haunt thee.
Nightmares.
Like light glares,
That lead to blank stares,
And that cold sweat right there,
Leads to tight air.
Then you wake up.
Shaken up.
This gift, only resides in the rift.
Angela Mary Pope Jun 2018
The tides are high and there is fear in their eyes,
the eyes of the ocean,
the eyes of the creatures down deep in the sea.

The hunt is real, they search deeper,
taking their whims and their fancies and their instinctual projections and finding themselves in their safest place.

The buildings that design the obsequious cityscape are filling with water. The groveling air towers over, like a filmy smoke of misused thoughts, and moments people want but lose.

The roofs are calling the names of crowds and everything is the same color.

The color of fear; mis-colored schools of thought, a murky brownish swim of trepidation and drowned almost brilliance.

She waits a while, leaving her misery and love and dirt and meaningfulness to turn into what it wants.

Her feet are one with her mind, a waterlogged caption held captive on a steamboat headed toward the end of the world.

The water is purest at the end of the world.

The way to move is no longer open form, pick a card and get a boat if she’s lucky.

Masses gather on the tops of buildings, Freedom a word synonymous to safety.

**** a boat this kid's gonna swim.

Paper boats and carrier pigeons prove the back and forth of things.

Overnight everything becomes as clear as the rising ocean.
The escapism from daily trivialities is now arbitrary as there is nowhere left to escape to.

People gather around doors, a vague hope that one might open in a way that is beyond itself.

Everyone glistens with wetness, water pouring from the sky, coming up from a place too deep to rightfully understand.

The mouths of fish are left to their own devices as one door opens.
A lonesome unlocked door holds a building of more buildings.

Facilities meant for easy death, built into one another like memories that play off of a fake idea of what the past means.  

Steel doors of fiery incinerators, reaching out for a hold on life. Immediate death the most vital thing any one of them can do.

She gathers. Thoughts, hope, love, sentimental objects. A sketchbook, a book of sketchbooks, a stick of incense, a cat, a longing.

She comes to a place of peace with the idea of steel-wrought incineration.

Meditation, endurance, strength. A step inside the narrow steel room, painted with the blood of the ancients, the loss of a civilization, She loses herself.

Within the nothingness that is death, comes a realization of the realization of nothingness at all.

This realization of nothingness transforms into darkness. A stumbling around. She wanders and wonders a while.

When she comes to, she recognizes a second consciousness.  

Herself.

Her consciousness seeps into the mind of an alternate version of herself.

Slowly, she fades.
Slowly, she morphs into herself again.

— The End —