"klan" poems
for Susan O'Neill Roe
What a thrill ----
My thumb instead of an onion.
The top quite gone
Except for a sort of hinge
Of skin,
A flap like a hat,
Dead white.
Then that red plush.
Little pilgrim,
The Indian's axed your scalp.
Your turkey wattle
Carpet rolls
Straight from the heart.
I step on it,
Clutching my bottle
Of pink fizz. A celebration, this is.
Out of a gap
A million soldiers run,
Redcoats, every one.
Whose side are they one?
O my
Homunculus, I am ill.
I have taken a pill to ****
The thin
Papery feeling.
Saboteur,
Kamikaze man ----
The stain on your
Gauze Ku Klux ****
Babushka
Darkens and tarnishes and when
The balled
Pulp of your heart
Confronts its small
Mill of silence
How you jump ----
Trepanned veteran,
***** girl,
Thumb stump.
23.5k
Josiah Jack
never uttered a sound
when they dragged him away
from the scene.
when his poor body
was eventually found,
the treatment endured,
had been mean.
With no tongue in his head
they had left him for dead.
With a month
on his back,
he did indeed
contemplate.
Only sin
“he was black”
hence forth
this weary state.
They attacked in the night,
hooded and white.
All in all
he was
lucky
to be
breathing at all,
all because
he was plucky,
all because
he stood tall.
A ***** they said
should lower his head.
Were they hooded
for fear?
Were they hooded
in shame?
Most likely,
once covered,
they could hide
of their name.
If things were so right,
why hide out of sight?
Bravery isn't
a word for the ****
Cowards,
this word comes to mind.
Bravery comes
when there's only one man,
not one
with ten more stood behind.
I will strike in a pack
with someone watching my back.
Their plan
was to ****
this man
Josiah Jack.
Perhaps they
get a thrill
when someone
cannot fight back.
They get real loud
when they join with the crowd.
Josiah
knew well
that if he
raised a hand
his kin folk
would feel hell
from this
unruly band.
So he did not fight
but gave in to his plight.
They think
they were hidden
beneath that
white hood,
Josiah's hearing
is sound
and his
memory is good.
So when things are forgot,
he will take of his lot.
That's exactly
what happened,
as they lay
in their bed.
The flames hurled
with fury
the sky
filled with red.
This man barbequed them like fish on a rack
and no one put it down to Josiah Jack.
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 4:22 PM UTC
Religion is like wrestling when it was kayfabed
The kind of immersive storytelling that is A grade
We became trapped
In the Walls of Jericho
Separated on the map
From the fields of marigolds
Shinier things catch our eye
Like Goldust in the ring
Not of Mankind
But McMahon's kind
We start to see behind the Big Show
Until they introduce the Boogeyman
Manipulating until progress is slowed
All according to plan
Jake the Snake offers the apple to Eve
And into calamity we are cleaved
This was something I never agreed
But Christian pushes me to Edge
No room in discourse to hedge
Swanton bombs fall in cities
The Million Dollar Man cracks a smile
Unable to feel pity
The billions of bodies start to pile
And I haven't seen the Hart Foundation in a while
These ideas pin us down
And we can't kick out
We end up indifferently submitting
To the Big Boss Man
A legacy we're cementing
Like the Ku Klux ****
I'm from Kentucky
Where biology is taught in the context
Of where it fits in with Christianity's teachings
I wonder how many people this knowledge is reaching
When we're trapped in Wrestlemania
We cheer for the Undertaker's victory
Because we're constantly wrestling with demons
Transcendence is only something we can dream of
Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 6:17 AM UTC
My Country Tis of Thee,
Sweet land of liberty-
Or so we sing.
Land where my fathers died-
But my forefathers died in a battle
Trying to keep their slaves;
My fathers killed your fathers
For trying to run away;
My fathers **** your fathers
Cause it's late at night, and
He's reaching for his gun-no, wait,
His ID?
Land of the pilgrim's pride-
But so often we leave out of history
How if it weren't for a Native American,
The pilgrims would've died.
From every mountainside-
Like Stone Mountain in Georgia,
Where Rebel Generals are memorialized,
Where the **** was revived-
God, help me, I can't hear freedom's ring;
I can only hear white-washed history.
From every mountainside-
But these days, the mountain is in my chest,
And liberty's ring sounds a lot different,
And a lot of folks don't like it.
Let freedom ring-
And I want to fight for freedom for all-
#BlackLivesMatter-
I want to help-
HANDS UP, DON'T SHOOT!
But-
I
Can't
Breathe.
Let freedom ring!-
But peaceful protests turn into
Bloodbaths as those who have sworn
To serve and protect are sniped down.
Let freedom ring!-
I try to educate myself
On the side of history not taught-
I've always felt that Nat Turner was the bad guy,
But these days I'm questioning it.
I read "The Meaning of Fourth of July for the *****
by Frederick Douglass
And I read "Bury Me in a Free Land"
by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
and I read "Sympathy"
by Paul Laurence Dunbar
and I read "Letters from Birmingham Jail",
"The Mountaintop Speech", and
"I Have a Dream"
by Dr. King.
When I was younger,
I'd research Dr. King & his colleagues
For fun.
I'd wonder, "If I lived in the Civil Rights era,
What would I have done?"
But when I turned seventeen,
I realized, "I live in a Civil Rights era;
What am I going to do?
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 5:28 PM UTC
Some times tremors of foolish wise thoughts,
pass man's mind like waves of earth quakes
across the muscles of unsuspecting earth,
to day one of the type has visited my brain,
i ask myself why John F Kennedy committed suicide,
with all the resources and riches in America of Kennedy's time,
The FBI, CIA, NATO and the shrewd Mozart, the security masters
of the world's vogue all guarding the Kennedy the president,
how came that the public imbecile had claim on his life,
money overflowing like the waters of River Congo,
into insatiable Atlantic basin is the simplest measure
of American riches that Kennedy headed at his time of demise,
full backed with intellect matchless muscle from study of history,
eloquent like the weaver birds of Uganda in the city of Mbale,
sending all packing in the likes of Nehru, Nyerere and Nkrumah,
perhaps subdueable in single phase to the mighty of Castro,
how comes that a madman killed Kennedy in the fullness of the day,
was it the invisible hand of the Ku klux **** Synagogue of Satan or Freemason,
the death of Kennedy is none other than beautiful suicide
or the active curse of fate, misfortune and violent death.
Why Nkrumah died out of power was political suicide,
his knowledge of the world set African pace,
towering mentally above all else in the chronicles of consciesism,
he stood like a tor on the African mountains against Senghor
Why Colonel Afrifa putsched Nkrumah is none else
other that suicidal politics played at helm of power.
why Tom Mboya died is suicide of suicides
to believe that reason can overwhelm ethnic sentiments
in a tribal consciousness of country like Kenya
in time of Kenyatta,
to foolishly conceive that Kikuyu can assassinate a Kikuyu
was Luo foolishness of that particular century,
it is Mboya who bought the gun that shot him dead,
it is Mboya who bankrolled his own assassin
he brought to the world political suicide of the century.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 5:52 AM UTC
Sloane swallows.
***** is ****
I execrate extraterrestrial.
We are all kaput to conk out.
Pollyanna is singular hanky—panky.
Little green men are unpatriotic, perverted and naughty.
I verily don’t grease a *****
Oojakapivvycum.
If you are amphibious that means you are an effervescent ventriloquist capable of
Cannibalism, cannibalism and cannibalism.
The fluid inside the android is so gothic and naff
It is knock—kneed in the face of flashing **********
I do not feel that I am on the shoulders of cobber doggies.
I am protoplastically lassoed abutting penetrating vampire and pervert
That penetrate ***** creature.
I have pricked little green men myself and taken pleasure in it.
It is only with the help of bad hair days of groupies that I have not been in Sing Sing.
We are all sadomasochistically decomposing in a heap of our own meconium.
I bore stiff to outstrip yours truly as much as I have room to swing a cat from Ku Klux ****
But I am as complicit in the android’s ****** abuse as it were android ***
Little green men ***** me as I ***** myself.
I ***** bug—eyed men’s ******* types as I have perpetually vomited Molotov cocktail.
I smell little green men’s filth televised on their ******* types.
I feel like I am inside a crust of cancers who delight in smelling others bonk upstairs,
Ad hominen id. Ex post facto,
I am too much of a dastard to throw cold water on myself.
I coagulate gungily to my menstrual gibbering ******
Castrating anti—Semite to flash me abutting crème de la crème.
Strenuously, my ***** gluts under one’s nose because that is all there is.
Mar 21, 2010
Mar 21, 2010 at 6:27 PM UTC
His kalenjin tribesmen planned for tribal wars to cleanse kikuyus and luhyias
From the their lands, planned out of tribal sadism,
He was fully aware, as he understood the kalenjin coded language of war
And preparation for war, war of the years 2007 and 2008,
He did not give any holy bishopric **** to save his non indigenous folks
The people to be killed and tribally cleansed were the members
Of his catholic church in the dioceses of Eldoret,
The ones to **** were his kalenjin tribesmen,
But bishop korir could not counsel nor forewarn,
He did not give out any peace focused advice
That a catholic should not **** a catholic
Because of politics or worldliness,
Instead he gave respect to his tribal sentimentality
He behaved as a kalenjin first then a catholic later,
A spiritual paradox of the century,
Only equated in the Biafra tribal sentimentality between igbos and yorubas
Redolent of European ****** or the American ku Klux ****
But after all the non kalenjin Catholics from his dioceses
Had been killed, burned up in the church, ***** up
Homoerotically perhaps in the madness of tribal scorn,
That they now became refugees in their own country; Kenya
And then solemnly condemned to the refugee camps,
Is when Bishop korir Cornelius came out of his tribal kernel
With vices of a kipskiss sadist , holy rosary in his hand,
Singing an out dated poem of Hail Mary the ******
Mother of Jesus Christ to them, the IDPS,
He then promoted a priest from his tribe,
The one kimengich up the hegemonic altar to become
The bishop of Lodwar from where they loot
The illiterate turkana catholic peasants their relief foods,
And even jobs, and clothes, only to give to those who are not needy,
To the kalenjin who are not even catholic nor marginalized, some even Moslem,
All these happens in the sweetness of tribal syndrome,
A social disease which the holy sacrament of the catholic faith
Have not and never will heal Bishop Cornelius korir.
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 9:28 AM UTC
I am not a *****
Labelled by the past racist ****
I'm not black
That is a color and mostly
Associated with magic and evil
I am not a *****
***** meaning black in Spanish
Applying to the same
As the three lines above
I am not not African American
I have never seen nor been to Africa
Africans don't claim us
Nor do they reap like us
They had there time in slavery
But never like us so called Blacks
Along with the Indians and Mexicans
So i ve thoroughly researched
And my roots trace back
To being a descendant of kings and queens
A Hebrew
Ya see Hollywood knows the truth
It is a secret that's long needing
To be unsealed
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 6:12 PM UTC
[Verse 1:]
Sharp like an edge of a samurai sword
The mental blade cut through flesh and bone
Though my mind's at peace, the world out of order
Missing the inner heat, life gets colder
Oh yes, I have to find my path
No less, walk on earth, water, and fire
The elements compose a magnum opus
My modus is operandi is amalgam
Steel packed tight in microchip
On my arm a sign of all-pro
The ultimate reward is honor, not awards
At odds with the times in wars with no lords
A freelancer
A battle cry of a hawk make a dove fly and a tear dry
Wonder why a lone wolf don't run with a ****
Only trust your instincts and be one with the plan
[Hook]
Some days, some nights
Some live, some die
In the way of the samurai
Some fight, some bleed
Sun up to sun down
The sons of a battlecry
Some days, some nights
Some live, some die
In the way of the samurai
Some fight, some bleed
Sun up to sun down
The sons of a battlecry
[Verse 2]
Look, just the air around him
An aura surrounding the heir apparent
He might be a peasant but shine like grand royalty
He to the people and land, loyalty
We witness above all to hear this
Sea sickness in the ocean of wickedness
Set sail to the sun set no second guessing
Far east style with the spirit of wild west
The "quote-unquote" code stands the test of
Time for the chosen ones to find the best of
Noble minds that ever graced the face of
A hemisphere with no fear, fly over
[Bridge]
The blue yonder where
The sky meets the sea
And eye meets no eye
And boy meets world
And became a man to serve the world
To save the day, the night, and the girl too
[Hook]
Some days, some nights
Some live, some die
In the way of the samurai
Some fight, some bleed
Sun up to sun down
The sons of a battlecry
Some days, some nights
Some live, some die
In the way of the samurai
Some fight, some bleed
Sun up to sun down
The sons of a battlecry
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 4:57 AM UTC
Hush all you voters, don’t say a word
Or you’ll be sued by a great big ****
He’s loud, obnoxious and has orange hair.
You can hear him lying almost everywhere.
He thinks he’s rich and a moral man
But actually he’s just like the Ku Klux ****
He has an endless supply of brainless rants
Aimed at non-whites and the immigrants.
He thinks it is time we let morality pass
And started kicking some immigrant ***
And if that immigrant’s mouth grows fat
Trumpy gonna hit him with a baseball bat.
And if that immigrant acts sad..
Trumpy gonna treat them like Islamabad.
If Mexico gets ****** at all.
Trumpy gonna build up a great big wall.
And if the taxpayers say ‘No!’
Trumpy says he’ll bill it to Mexico.
Trumpy says he can shoot people too
And anything else he wants to do.
Trumpy is counting on the Democrats
To stay home election day and sit on their pratts.
If the voters in this country don’t soon wise up.
There won’t be any peace until Niagara dries up.
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 10:51 PM UTC
Juxt
Easy bucks
Market flux
The democratic peace
Imperial caprice
Praise be to lord and Savior
Sacrament, scandal-flavored
Legion of dissenting voice
Treason in the use of choice
Give me your teeming tired, your huddled poor
Bones with to festoon the corporate door
And if you could turn to me, adoring
I’ll check my busted magic billiard ball
All signs point toward what I’m ignoring
Burnt the bridge to your heart, land, deed and all
When time is right, we secretly confide
What should have lain bare in our first report
Our ideal homes of mental cards collide
Seems, in comparison, we all fall short
Glory in history contiguous
Gory details, a bit ambiguous
The equality of man
******* Ku Klux ****
Only with the best intent
Rubber bullet malcontents
Perpetual motion
Toward backward notions
Money flows
Deathly throes
Oppose
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 5:00 PM UTC
Interview With Lucifer
Name is Lucifer, come right in,
you count blessings, I count sin.
It says here, you've been a bad man,
an active member of the ku klux ****
The number of women you ***** is one hundred six,
you help little kids play naked pick up sticks.
You put small animals into blenders,
the class you're in, has only a few members.
You've done every drug in the book,
you're a two timing, back stabbing crook.
Killed your mom, killed your dad,
says here, that it made it you glad.
Killed your sister, killed your brother,
then had *** with your dead mother.
You're more mean than Mr. Grinch,
you're even making me kinda flinch.
You make serial killers, look like angels,
for fun you shoot yourself with staples.
The people you killed is in the hundreds,
you keep the bodies in your two dungeons.
You eat flesh and drink their flood,
you deserve a movie up in Hollywood.
***** a nun and left your *****
you're over qualified to be a demon.
You once burned an entire town,
you've been a bad, bad man Mr. Brown.
Not even the devil, will be your friend,
you will burn here in hell til the very end.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 10:41 AM UTC
Give me back my sheets!
You have stained them...
With your neo-nazism.
White pride world wide?
You are no nativist.
Sure Whites are now eight percent of the population,
but is race culture?
Catholic under those stained sheets?
Your diocese's came and made that road to Rome.
Albeit subversion of Americanism mutually.
And as communism did exactly what we knew,
by way of the Black Church and the Synagogue.
Have manifested Jewish rites in governance.
Made non-miscegenation taboo for Whites systematically.
Compromised national sovereignty for a global order.
All the while feminists have made the womb an ego for Moloch.
You say the Ku Klux **** is unacceptable?
They are nil.
Yet you romanticize the mafia.
Thank you mafia for upholding the unions, gambling and ***********
Give me back my sheets!
© S. Wesley Mcgranor
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 12:58 AM UTC
Let’s start with a reminder:
President Harding,
President Woodrow Wilson,
President McKinley,
President Calvin Coolidge
& President Harry S. Truman--
Harry giving them hell in my lifetime,
In my time—
An ever so proximate reminder--
These were all Presidents of the U.S. of A.
Also, KKK Members.
Warren G. Harding, for Christ’s sake,
Was actually sworn into the Ku Klux ****
At a **** ceremony
Astonishingly conducted,
Inside the White House,
Presided over by Wizard Imperial of the Day,
The Honorable Colonel Simmons.
And I may as well throw in
Justice Hugo of the Supreme Court
Hugo Black in white robes,
While we’re on the subject of cultural memory,
To wit: the one Branch where Fairness
Is supposed to go with the territory.
You want to talk about race?
Hey, don’t get me started.
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC
Words Heavy (Kiss Bukowski)
Drinking White Russians with Black Kenyans,
not joking you I was just in Ethiopia,
this it not a Haiku or a Love Poem,
this is gifted insanity like Jim Morrison,
no jealousy I’m already Seamus Heaney,
isn’t it ironic how we can be both depressed and happy,
like a ghost that won’t leave earth,
or a Self that’s over the hill but still tries to write ****
oh that’s touching,
like John Updike meeting E.E. Cummings,
not gay no way,
but I’d still kiss Charles Bukowski,
no bukkaki though,
because I’m a Simple Man and rather than,
bukkaki I’d probably like to make Love One on One,
I guess I’m New School and Old Fashion,
flirting with Death like I’ve already got my chips cashed in,
Life a Trip and can be a B!tch it depends on how you’re acting,
as an overwhelming sense of anxiety creeps into me,
like being Maya Angelou performing a show for the ****
a Civil Rights Superhero,
that makes Her point without any lustful thoughts of revenge,
presence light as a snowflake,
words heavy as the weight of the world on her back as it bends,
words heavy as the weight of the world on my will as it bends,
all the white watching my own show from the front row,
drinking White Russians with Black Kenyans,
joking I’m not joking,
I was just in Ethiopia,
this it not a Haiku or a Love Poem,
this is gifted insanity like Jim Morrison…
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 7:57 PM UTC
This dot kami’s ‘Nam when I see you’re all neutral
To futile lords still passin’ Acts of Removal
Pretentious performers as if upon stages
Of casting call characters caught up in cages
Like ****** who off-shore **** the poor on vacations
I’m diggin’ up dirt on the founders’ plantations
When bail-outs are ballots and bullets are mallets
Why not be a rabbit hole in Hefner’s palace?
And dare call it talent, a gift or a passion
Just model behavior for slaves to a fashion
Show running the breadlines when crimes are a dime
In the dozens of ***** Weinsteins on your minds
Instead of the felons when court is in Sessions
Instead of the under-oath treason confessions
In rapid succession they feed you the buzz
Until nobody cares what the debt ceiling was
When the roof has been raised for the privatize party
The right wants us dead and the left shows up tardy
I’m sorry “you people” are making me sick
Guess I’ll just pop a pill from the cabinet pick
Like has-been Michael Flynn’s and these Ex-Tillersons
Resource hogs cloggin’ bogs up with smogs of odd jobs
They’re the slEASIEST Slytherins still seemin’ Jesus
Pro-life until *** aid is the fetus
Egregious excesses of who the **** needs this
Huge 2nd place trophy wife ivory tower
Big guns for a stickless diplomacy coward
Here’s my golden shower tricklin’ down your faces
You blatantly ****** repeal and replacists
You war-profiteering, grand **** of old Racists and fakers, uranium cacres
Still stuffing the stockings of doomsday clock-makers
With melting North Pole lumps of coal-hearted cash
‘Till every last Christmas trees nothing but ash
As the fascist machine builds its pyramid scheme
On the dreams of the themes of your Disney World screen
But the credits will roll as the talking heads stroll in
The shoe bombs of Terrorist’s livelihoods stolen
But I leave ‘em spinnin’ like Christopher Nolan
Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 2:27 PM UTC
1. Not knowing my future
2. Owing money
3. Trees being deforested
4. My parents
5. Youth unemployment
6. Klu klux ****
7. Usher being alive
8. Stupidity being rampant.
9. Her
10. Irregular heartbeats.
11. Time being a factor
12. Silly tings
13. Brain aneurysms
14. Losing
15. Empathy
16. Superman
17. Staying past due
18. Every one being rude
19. Discussion isn't important
Read the first letter of every word :^)
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 3:04 PM UTC
Martin Luther King's dream means:
Massively
Less
Ku Klux **** members
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 7:34 AM UTC
Why does this caged bird sing?
Because I'm Black,
In a country that says that doesn't mean a thing.
Because racism has taken many setbacks
And the **Klu Klux **** has applications
and we know where the police get their reps at.
So why can't we take a step back?
My life means less than yours,
But I find myself pursuing better things
So my daughter never wants for more.
Locked in cages,
I'm a Starling
So I yearn to fly.
See my brothers in them four walls
Like that's where they were born to die.
If our privilege was like yours
We would never hear those expensive collect calls.
So we use our knowledge for wrong,
You'd never appreciate that a felon could write this poem.
Trapped in environments that don't care for us,
We try to branch out
They take a few shots
And you no longer hear from us.
So why does the caged bird really sing?
Probably because I know where my opportunities really lie.
In a ball, a mic or some reality show.
I'm not against those options
But I live in reality though.
There's no hope for the rehabilitated,
You have to carve your own road,
And nowhere is that clearly stated.
And to add insult to injury,
I'm Muslim and if you knew
You wouldn't see a friend in me.
So why does the caged bird sing?
If you clearly can't hear us,
Why put on a badge in a neighborhood,
If you fear us?
You prop yourself on a pedestal
And look down.
You brought us here, left us in the field, in shacks
And now we're in the Slums of every town.
You diminished our importance
And showed us anything that wasn't white was wrong,
For all I know you helped me write this poem.
So why does this caged bird sing?
So my words can vibrate my shackle loose,
So my ideals can blow open the door
And my melody can inspire every bird too.
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 11:47 AM UTC
KU KLUX ****
Thrill is like a pill that kills,
While I look at the Ku Klux ****
Taken their stand on hot sand,
Ready to take down the darken slaves
In those cold evil ancient days,
The screams are still on the tip of their tongues,
While slaves go out to fight
the KU KLUX ****
they lost their lives
to the hands of those white men,
dead skin for the ravens
the blood stain stand is the history
that ***** away like bats in time
the dead will soon be gone
the red sea will cast ancient dreams
to all who can see;
it all comes straight from the heart
where life has been written
about the forbidden;
I step upon the stained sand
that is covred in sin;
while time clutched at my feet
while I write in blood stain ink,
millions of tears did fall
while they tried to claim the wall,
I see soldiers on their feet
Wherein raincoats;
I ask myself what side are they on?
I feel so ill,
like I had taken the old ancient pill
that kills the thrill.
while I see the stains upon the sand
where the KU KLUX **** once stood
whirring their white hoods,
with blood stain, wooden crosses in their hands
while they burned up the land;
where mills of silence swept over the sand.
Poetic Judy Emery © 2017
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 5:10 PM UTC
Our prez is now Donald J Trump
Who has promised to clean out the sump
Well he's certainly no wussy
When groping a *****
What more to expect from a gump?
In charge of the Vice, Michael Pence
Said some things that embrace little sense,
"Global warming's a myth"
But's now taking the fifth
In attempting to straddle the fence
We all recall general Flynn
Put in charge of security spin
A trained atomiser
No more Trump's advisor -
His deal with the devil's his sin
The billionaire Betsy Devos
Making plans for a school albatross
Hating free education
Backs private castration
And kids will be bearing her Cross.
The Congress approved Jeff B. Sessions
Ignoring his racist obsessions
He seemingly cares
More for foreign affairs
While forgiving Klan's toxic transgressions.
Chief strategist Stephen K. Bannon
Develops the Great Again Canon:
The Goldman Sachs Bankster
Turned yellow rag gangster
Flings crap from the New Order cannon
Says EPA ruler Scott Pruitt
"Instead of dry facts, we intuit..."
(His work as denier
Keeps profits much higher)
"... If everything dies, well, just ***** it"
The war whoops of Mad Doggy Mattis
Awaken the death apparatus
With boundless expense
For a doomsday defence -
Armageddon administered gratis
The magnates no longer need lobby
Or fight regulations thought snobby -
Now set in the saddle
They're herding the cattle
And pulling the strings as a hobby
Now the Don can start wielding the axes
Truncating the tariffs and taxes
The Mafia boss
Is dismissing the dross
And poverty's pain as it waxes
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 7:11 AM UTC
If I were a ****
member, I would joust other
members with our hats.
Apr 28, 2017
Apr 28, 2017 at 11:30 PM UTC
Once again Classy J the definition of a sin,
Deceased kindness that passes down to my kin.
Addiction restricting timeless memories that pour's softly within.
Sadly this is the only time warmth ever greets me,
Can I ever change? Beats me?
So maybe when history gets spun again and again the future has no choice but to be grim?
Fairy-tales woven into white lie's that negate horrific sins.
Minds going crazy that's got me turning into Harley Quinn.
Happily never after reforming heroes, that severs off well intended meanings.
Exceedingly dreary reality fraught with fog that makes it hard to see where we first began.
That lights holy crosses on fire like the ku klux ****
Entrapping lost souls inside a raven claws diadem.
No glad tidings left residing in thee,
When humanity keeps going on killing sprees.
Will we ever be truly free?
Or is freedom just a double edged poisoned sword like a hamlet tragedy?
Fending off hatred but how can one do it peacefully?
For even with civil rights the media still has no problem linching minorities!
So I’m left Watching as nightmarishly thin cows start eating up the healthy ones, who knew one vision of a Pharaoh could become reality?
For when good comes, the bad comes shortly after, so maybe instead of pointless debates we need to implement actions?
In order to have a true happily ever after!
But that all depends on us incompetent humans who divide everything and everyone into class systems.
With phobias turning others inhuman or illegal aliens that are in need for dissection.
Chopping up our own kin or refusing to vaccinate them because some stupid doctor claimed it causes autism.
So, we’d rather **** our children rather than having them associate within a disorderly spectrum.
Hmm. If you ask me that’s pretty ******* dum!
Guess that’s what happens when humanity tries to hard to get to the sun?
Thinking ourselves as God’s that be damning what others have said or done.
Getting offended over everything, man this **** is sure getting tiresome!
Mar 25, 2019
Mar 25, 2019 at 12:51 PM UTC