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"monarchy" poems
721 Behind Me—dips Eternity— Before Me—Immortality— Myself—the Term between— Death but the Drift of Eastern Gray, Dissolving into Dawn away, Before the West begin— ’Tis Kingdoms—afterward—they say— In perfect—pauseless Monarchy— Whose Prince—is Son of None— Himself—His Dateless Dynasty— Himself—Himself diversify— In Duplicate divine— ’Tis Miracle before Me—then— ’Tis Miracle behind—between— A Crescent in the Sea— With Midnight to the North of Her— And Midnight to the South of Her— And Maelstrom—in the Sky—
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51.6k
Behind Me—dips Eternity
Bonjour, hello to this French revolution, where people fought against the corrupted monarchy and created a new constitution. Hunger, no rights and no respect, they could not seem to solve it peacefully, so they cut off Louis the XVI neck. Marie Antoinette was a heartless greedy ***** she stole the people's food, so now she deserves some punishment, this is a historical moment for these people which they would soon cement. They started the Reign of Terror, which some may say was a costly and unnecessary error. Millions of people were killed and most were wrongly accused, their used to be equality, liberty, and fraternity, but all people saw was death, which is something not to be amused. The French Revolution where the third class fought the monarchy, so everyone could have true equality, liberty, and fraternity. Then came a guy named Napoléon who changed their wicked ways, he founded new ideas which created the future you see today. I know he wasn't exactly the best, he crowned himself the emperor, which no one had a say on, he pretended to respect the church and have meritocracy but really he was just a con, deceiving people as if they were just a couple of pawns. Napoléon is a wimp, he cost millions of lives, he also abandoned his armies multiple times, he may be one of the, greatest strategist's in the world, but really he's just a waste of time. Napoléon should have figured out not to attack Russia at winter time, it never worked out before so why would it work this time. He may be a symbol of France and the greatest self proclaimed emperor, but he died because of his pride just like Maximillian Robespierre. That was the end of the French Revolution, they slowly lost their power but they still hold onto their republican constitution. So aurevoir for now, bon voyage to you grande revolution, till your next controversial decisions and solutions.
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May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 9:25 AM UTC
The French Revolution rap
Bonjour, hello to this French revolution, where people fought against the corrupted monarchy and created a new constitution. Hunger, no rights and no respect, they could not seem to solve it peacefully, so they cut off Louis the XVI neck. Marie Antoinette was a heartless greedy ***** she stole the people's food, so now she deserves some punishment, this is a historical moment for these people which they would soon cement. They started the Reign of Terror, which some may say was a costly and unnecessary error. Millions of people were killed and most were wrongly accused, their used to be equality, liberty, and fraternity, but all people saw was death, which is something not to be amused. The French Revolution where the third class fought the monarchy, so everyone could have true equality, liberty, and fraternity. Then came a guy named Napoléon who changed their wicked ways, he founded new ideas which created the future you see today. I know he wasn't exactly the best, he crowned himself the emperor, which no one had a say on, he pretended to respect the church and have meritocracy but really he was just a con, deceiving people as if they were just a couple of pawns. Napoléon is a wimp, he cost millions of lives, he also abandoned his armies multiple times, he may be one of the, greatest strategist's in the world, but really he's just a waste of time. Napoléon should have figured out not to attack Russia at winter time, it never worked out before so why would it work this time. He may be a symbol of France and the greatest self proclaimed emperor, but he died because of his pride just like Maximillian Robespierre. That was the end of the French Revolution, they slowly lost their power but they still hold onto their republican constitution. So aurevoir for now, bon voyage to you grande revolution, till your next controversial decisions and solutions.
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1
Revolution: Part one. The first French King sentenced to death, Must have a new execution invented; So that this day shall be forever remembered. The execution of your King, this invention of evil; This is how he will finally meet his end and go to the Devil. The man behind the mask, the executioner; Will lead us to change to a new world order. A declaration of civil war, to stop the oppression, Has lead France to say, we must fight to stop the aggression. We must be revolting and begin the revolution; To put an end to the executions. The fall of the guillotine, for a life time spent, Writing the encyclopedia, which lead to his death. There is no place for God, in an encyclopedia of Man; This writing is illegal, you are blasphemous! God **** So the time has come, to take your last breath. Remember when you see the guillotine... don't lose your head. Until it's chopped off and ends up in the basket; Another case of basket case madness. No fiction necessary, for us to live here on Earth; But this execution, you surely don't deserve. So the poets leave France, before the revolution; All of them heading, back to England. These prison bars to entrap the young. Taken prisoner for writing a book. Follow their rules; free thinking is wrong. The encyclopedia is evidence enough. Man is born free and grows to imprison himself; Then he must follow the orders, of somebody else. Frances revolutionaries, said let it be, let it be; But the nation is ruled, by the monarchy. Imprisoned for what they think, the poets and the artists; But there are no walls, in the prison inside their heads. Begin the revolution and make us all classless, Because they’re chained by society, For the thoughts that they think. A fight for equality, a modern day philosophy. Man is born to think for himself; a revolution is on the way. Liberty! Liberation for one free state; A jaded nation must make a change. Revolution began, after the fall of the blade; Now the guillotine of power will stop us being slaves. Preaching revolution, we must free ourselves of these manacles. Preaching liberation for the masses And freedom for the individual. This new guillotine, the machine of death, Makes the severed head fall into the basket, As they take your last breath; But they can't take your words, from the books you have written. So fight the power! Revolution! Revolution! We must have a revolution, that is televised. Che Guevara, Malcolm X, me, myself and I. All of us willing to join the fight; All of knowing our view is right. (C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
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Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 7:20 AM UTC
Revolution : Part one
Revolution: Part one. The first French King sentenced to death, Must have a new execution invented; So that this day shall be forever remembered. The execution of your King, this invention of evil; This is how he will finally meet his end and go to the Devil. The man behind the mask, the executioner; Will lead us to change to a new world order. A declaration of civil war, to stop the oppression, Has lead France to say, we must fight to stop the aggression. We must be revolting and begin the revolution; To put an end to the executions. The fall of the guillotine, for a life time spent, Writing the encyclopedia, which lead to his death. There is no place for God, in an encyclopedia of Man; This writing is illegal, you are blasphemous! God **** So the time has come, to take your last breath. Remember when you see the guillotine... don't lose your head. Until it's chopped off and ends up in the basket; Another case of basket case madness. No fiction necessary, for us to live here on Earth; But this execution, you surely don't deserve. So the poets leave France, before the revolution; All of them heading, back to England. These prison bars to entrap the young. Taken prisoner for writing a book. Follow their rules; free thinking is wrong. The encyclopedia is evidence enough. Man is born free and grows to imprison himself; Then he must follow the orders, of somebody else. Frances revolutionaries, said let it be, let it be; But the nation is ruled, by the monarchy. Imprisoned for what they think, the poets and the artists; But there are no walls, in the prison inside their heads. Begin the revolution and make us all classless, Because they’re chained by society, For the thoughts that they think. A fight for equality, a modern day philosophy. Man is born to think for himself; a revolution is on the way. Liberty! Liberation for one free state; A jaded nation must make a change. Revolution began, after the fall of the blade; Now the guillotine of power will stop us being slaves. Preaching revolution, we must free ourselves of these manacles. Preaching liberation for the masses And freedom for the individual. This new guillotine, the machine of death, Makes the severed head fall into the basket, As they take your last breath; But they can't take your words, from the books you have written. So fight the power! Revolution! Revolution! We must have a revolution, that is televised. Che Guevara, Malcolm X, me, myself and I. All of us willing to join the fight; All of knowing our view is right. (C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
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57
Her Imperious Canticle rewarded From the butterflies of monarchy Mermaid scales are her bouquet An ombre is the debut Crystal corals are the stars on her face Below pink rings that scale a tune Which the winged beauties will charm in too An amazing debut for the see through Of a dynasty that glows in the prism moon.
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Feb 24, 2019
Feb 24, 2019 at 9:13 AM UTC
Of Prisms and Opera Bones
Gonna move to Qatar ride in a gold Beemer playin' songs for the Emir on a ruby studded guitar. Live in a silver highrise go skiing in the desert eat caviar for desert singin' about the disenfranchised and ruby studded guitars. I'll be an expat in Doha drinkin' with the monarchy speakin' absolute malarkey playin' tunes for all my brohas on my ruby studded guitar in Qatar. r ~ 6/14/14
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Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 10:49 PM UTC
Guitar from Qatar
Hypocracy Mandatory. Gullibility Mandatory. Insensitivity Mandatory. Obesity Mandatory. Immaturity Mandatory. Childishness Mandatory. Monarchy Mandatory. Capitalism Mandatory. Conservatism Mandatory. Terrorism Mandatory. Corruption Mandatory. Incompetence Mandatory. Socialism Mandatory. Dictatorship Mandatory. Militarism Mandatory. Liberalism Mandatory. Bhuddism Mandatory. Islam Mandatory. Christianity Mandatory. Judaism Mandatory. Hinduism Mandatory. Vedism Mandatory. Hatred Mandatory. Anarchy Mandatory. Jealousy Mandatory. Nationalism Mandatory. Fascism Mandatory. Racism Mandatory. Lies Mandatory. Hypocracy Mandatory. Obesity Mandatory. Heart Disease Mandatory. Cancer Mandatory. Idiocy Mandatory. Eco-Nazism Mandatory. All of us Humans. Of all Five Colours. Wherever we be. Whatever we do. However we "see" ourselves. What do we call ourselves now?. How about shallow nitpickers?. Or celebrity obsessed morons?. Or religious hypocrits?. Or Democrats?. Or Socialists?. Or Revolutionaries. Or just plain "nice folks"?. Or supporters of oligarchy  policies?. Or immature backpackers?. Or government assassins of integrity?. Or juicy *********** Or swift tongued ******** ticklers?. no matter how many lie dead or injured as a result of our obfuscation and avoidance. As if poets have the explanation to life except in strings of meaningless associated but fine sounding words. When "poets" are the voluntary slaves of Mind and Conditioned Identity.. As if poets had the ***** to go beyond all these things. As if . Scrape the Moons suface and you will find a delicate Castello Blue Cream Cheese.
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Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
Title Optional
Hypocracy Mandatory. Gullibility Mandatory. Insensitivity Mandatory. Obesity Mandatory. Immaturity Mandatory. Childishness Mandatory. Monarchy Mandatory. Capitalism Mandatory. Conservatism Mandatory. Terrorism Mandatory. Corruption Mandatory. Incompetence Mandatory. Socialism Mandatory. Dictatorship Mandatory. Militarism Mandatory. Liberalism Mandatory. Bhuddism Mandatory. Islam Mandatory. Christianity Mandatory. Judaism Mandatory. Hinduism Mandatory. Vedism Mandatory. Hatred Mandatory. Anarchy Mandatory. Jealousy Mandatory. Nationalism Mandatory. Fascism Mandatory. Racism Mandatory. Lies Mandatory. Hypocracy Mandatory. Obesity Mandatory. Heart Disease Mandatory. Cancer Mandatory. Idiocy Mandatory. Eco-Nazism Mandatory. All of us Humans. Of all Five Colours. Wherever we be. Whatever we do. However we "see" ourselves. What do we call ourselves now?. How about shallow nitpickers?. Or celebrity obsessed morons?. Or religious hypocrits?. Or Democrats?. Or Socialists?. Or Revolutionaries. Or just plain "nice folks"?. Or supporters of oligarchy  policies?. Or immature backpackers?. Or government assassins of integrity?. Or juicy *********** Or swift tongued ******** ticklers?. no matter how many lie dead or injured as a result of our obfuscation and avoidance. As if poets have the explanation to life except in strings of meaningless associated but fine sounding words. When "poets" are the voluntary slaves of Mind and Conditioned Identity.. As if poets had the ***** to go beyond all these things. As if . Scrape the Moons suface and you will find a delicate Castello Blue Cream Cheese.
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63
i. An engineer of amour Artificer of fine craft; Abundant in moral class. ii. Alongside her Astral hierarchy; Tis, she's mine monarchy. iii. Fain, I taketh her cape Made of foreign swathe; Mixed with Filipino grape's. iv. Not slave's Unrestricted with eachother; Messenger's to thy planet, created under the milky way's feather. ©Brandon nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry ©Earl Jane nagley dedication
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Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 2:18 PM UTC
Ipsum amoris ( Engineer of love) latin tongue
For years, they stole and robbed from our pockets. For years, they murdered what faith we had, Killed what hope we gained for ourselves. Poverty loomed over us like death, the Loss of materialistic payment. Currency controls; We have none. Beginning with a silly addition to parchment and paper. A "stamp act," if you will. Oh, the rarity of a few extra Coins to spend on a cake for the mistress! Rebellion and violence against the act increased, The Sons, the ones of Liberty left Blood splattered on the ground we walk on. Fear installed in the hearts of agents, Collecting and shivering as coins ring in their satchels. Soon, though, they left. Resigned and replaced themselves with Another thief. The Townshend- adding cents more to imported, Provided, goods. The people starved for things They need and can not afford. Naive. They had materials. They had the skill, But no need to use what they contained in their minds And their bodies. Begin the new world! Spin your own yarn and twine! Build your own shoes! You don't need the goods From old English factories and makers. The disagreements and retaliation, the lack in Morality in the brainwashed heads of soldiers. A bothered redcoat drew his gun, leaving holes, Horrible voids. The dive from cliff to cliff, swing from tree to tree, The ****** of blood and The determination to be freed from the grasp of A controlling monarchy. The greed they exhibit and the cruelty. Revenge for taking what is ours? Sweet tea, English tea, Soaked in the harbor. The tax will be no more! The need for peace, rejected by one Who wanted control and a steady reign. The isolation, suffocation of the new land like an Abused child. It was only a matter of time before the child ran away.
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Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 11:23 AM UTC
Freedom Seeker (Declaration of Independence)
For years, they stole and robbed from our pockets. For years, they murdered what faith we had, Killed what hope we gained for ourselves. Poverty loomed over us like death, the Loss of materialistic payment. Currency controls; We have none. Beginning with a silly addition to parchment and paper. A "stamp act," if you will. Oh, the rarity of a few extra Coins to spend on a cake for the mistress! Rebellion and violence against the act increased, The Sons, the ones of Liberty left Blood splattered on the ground we walk on. Fear installed in the hearts of agents, Collecting and shivering as coins ring in their satchels. Soon, though, they left. Resigned and replaced themselves with Another thief. The Townshend- adding cents more to imported, Provided, goods. The people starved for things They need and can not afford. Naive. They had materials. They had the skill, But no need to use what they contained in their minds And their bodies. Begin the new world! Spin your own yarn and twine! Build your own shoes! You don't need the goods From old English factories and makers. The disagreements and retaliation, the lack in Morality in the brainwashed heads of soldiers. A bothered redcoat drew his gun, leaving holes, Horrible voids. The dive from cliff to cliff, swing from tree to tree, The ****** of blood and The determination to be freed from the grasp of A controlling monarchy. The greed they exhibit and the cruelty. Revenge for taking what is ours? Sweet tea, English tea, Soaked in the harbor. The tax will be no more! The need for peace, rejected by one Who wanted control and a steady reign. The isolation, suffocation of the new land like an Abused child. It was only a matter of time before the child ran away.
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42
Talk-show queen Oprah Winfrey with her entourage is going to Australia and it’s timely now for a quick Colbert Report on the state of the colony of Australia Colony? Yes, that’s right Australia is still a British colony - How else do you explain it? as the Head of Government in Australia is still the British Monarchy and her Majesty, the Queen of Great Britain, has her representative a Governor-General in Australia; and the Aussie national media faithfully reports that Prince Philip is a God in some remote island and the TV stations broadcast visions of which British Prince kissed which of their latest fancy And so, Oprah, welcome to the Colony Ah, yes, and the Chinese migrants coming in are surprised to learn of Australia’s status at citizenship ceremonies and the young man explains to his grandma: “Oh, Foreign Devil still control Australia; sad, Chairman Mao did not Liberate Australia.” And Indian migrants, much to their disappointment are heard to remark: “Oh no – does this mean we still have to go through another fight for freedom as in 1947?” But then they are consoled by the fact that a Gandhi only comes once in 200 years so we can all still get on with our lives and the nation will continue to eat burgers and enjoy barbecues and hop like kangaroos until such things may happen… Ah well, dear talk-show Queen Oprah Winfrey and her entourage this ends our report on the sovereign nation down under: Happy Stay in Her British Majesty’s Colony
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Sep 23, 2010
Sep 23, 2010 at 12:16 PM UTC
Colbert Report: Australia
Talk-show queen Oprah Winfrey with her entourage is going to Australia and it’s timely now for a quick Colbert Report on the state of the colony of Australia Colony? Yes, that’s right Australia is still a British colony - How else do you explain it? as the Head of Government in Australia is still the British Monarchy and her Majesty, the Queen of Great Britain, has her representative a Governor-General in Australia; and the Aussie national media faithfully reports that Prince Philip is a God in some remote island and the TV stations broadcast visions of which British Prince kissed which of their latest fancy And so, Oprah, welcome to the Colony Ah, yes, and the Chinese migrants coming in are surprised to learn of Australia’s status at citizenship ceremonies and the young man explains to his grandma: “Oh, Foreign Devil still control Australia; sad, Chairman Mao did not Liberate Australia.” And Indian migrants, much to their disappointment are heard to remark: “Oh no – does this mean we still have to go through another fight for freedom as in 1947?” But then they are consoled by the fact that a Gandhi only comes once in 200 years so we can all still get on with our lives and the nation will continue to eat burgers and enjoy barbecues and hop like kangaroos until such things may happen… Ah well, dear talk-show Queen Oprah Winfrey and her entourage this ends our report on the sovereign nation down under: Happy Stay in Her British Majesty’s Colony
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39
Last weekend, I Went out stargazing. I was struck By the cold beauty of one Lonely star, glistening In the inky veil, Winking at me. Alone in her Frigid bedsheets, she Gazed down, like monarchy, To I; the one who saw Her quiet beauty. She winked again, Then drifted away: A plane in the night. So there were no stars That evening, after all.
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Nov 26, 2018
Nov 26, 2018 at 9:37 AM UTC
Stargazing
Dear Sabah, For the past forty-four days I have been waking up at dawn so I can reap sunlight the way an old peasant in a jasmine farm does. My brother said he might have seen sunflowers but he never saw suns flowering; “the sunlight you reaped is useless” he said “why are you collecting it?" My grandfather collects stamps, my mother collects china sets, my father collects rare books, my uncle collects money, and my grandmother collected hearts. “Because I want to be like Teta”, I answered him. Dear Sabah, I have been waking up at dawn, and I can assure you that they lied about dew being playful. Dew doesn’t slide on a rose petal the way a child does in the park. Dew sits still in an ungenuine grace the way an aristocratic woman does in a third cousin wedding; Dew is my aunt Fatima in her brother’s wedding. However, they didn’t lie about how early birds get the worm.. This morning, I saw a bird eating two worms, and the eldest of my cousins cutting off his brothers’ allowances right after taking over his father’s company. Dear Sabah, I read in The Little Prince that people like watching sunsets when they are sad; that he watched the sunset forty-four times in one day when he had a fight with his rose. So for the past forty-four days I have been waking up at dawn and morphing my notebook into a camera lens. I now have 44 synonyms for your name, and each evening, I read the scribbles of morning I managed to pluck: fresh, fragile, blue and pink hues, childlike, clean grass, birds chipping, family… Dear Sabah, This morning, when my uncle told us how his son is now running his company, my 11 year old brother asked me if our family is a monarchy. “No, Hady” I said, “our family is an Arctic morning; for six months straight it is a cold dark environment, and for the other six, the sun doesn’t set.”
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Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 6:21 AM UTC
Suns and Daughters.
Dear Sabah, For the past forty-four days I have been waking up at dawn so I can reap sunlight the way an old peasant in a jasmine farm does. My brother said he might have seen sunflowers but he never saw suns flowering; “the sunlight you reaped is useless” he said “why are you collecting it?" My grandfather collects stamps, my mother collects china sets, my father collects rare books, my uncle collects money, and my grandmother collected hearts. “Because I want to be like Teta”, I answered him. Dear Sabah, I have been waking up at dawn, and I can assure you that they lied about dew being playful. Dew doesn’t slide on a rose petal the way a child does in the park. Dew sits still in an ungenuine grace the way an aristocratic woman does in a third cousin wedding; Dew is my aunt Fatima in her brother’s wedding. However, they didn’t lie about how early birds get the worm.. This morning, I saw a bird eating two worms, and the eldest of my cousins cutting off his brothers’ allowances right after taking over his father’s company. Dear Sabah, I read in The Little Prince that people like watching sunsets when they are sad; that he watched the sunset forty-four times in one day when he had a fight with his rose. So for the past forty-four days I have been waking up at dawn and morphing my notebook into a camera lens. I now have 44 synonyms for your name, and each evening, I read the scribbles of morning I managed to pluck: fresh, fragile, blue and pink hues, childlike, clean grass, birds chipping, family… Dear Sabah, This morning, when my uncle told us how his son is now running his company, my 11 year old brother asked me if our family is a monarchy. “No, Hady” I said, “our family is an Arctic morning; for six months straight it is a cold dark environment, and for the other six, the sun doesn’t set.”
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16
*A Door's Rusty Hinges Screeched As It Is Opened, Though The Outside Of This Hall Is Ugly, Paint Chipping, The Scars Of Screams Entwined In Eggshell Trim, The Room Which Lays On The Other Side, Is Full Of Beauty, Is Full Of Tubes Of Paint, Some Which Lay On The Floor, Which Kisses Oak Furnishings, Some Lay On An Abandon Easel, Next To A Canvas, Half Completed, Created By Shaky Hands* *Empty Vases Sit On A Window Pane, Which Await, For The Return Of Freshly Picked Wild Flowers, Awaiting The Return, Of The Soft Glow Of A Candle, A Lanturn Perches On A Bookshelf, Full Of Stained Pages And Ripped Covers, The Stale Scent Of Memories Cling To Each Chapter, A Small Handcrafted Stool, Sits In This Ancient Home, In The Artist's Heart* *The Ancient Smell Of Paint, Is No More, Though The Stains Of Blues And Greens, Are Now Grey As Clay Upon The Floor, Yet Paintings Dwell On The Off-White Walls, Some Brilliant, Others A Hot Mess, Self Portraits, Redish Hair Cascading Like A Waterfall, Down A Slim Collarbone, Some Of Them The Women Smiles, Others She Frowns, Landscapes Of Rolling Hills, And The Moonlight Leaking Through Coniffer Forests, Are Stacked Ontop Of Eachother, And A Mirror Which Stared At The Artist's Face, And Who Saw Her Take Her Last Breath, Climbs Motionlessly On The Wall* *If You Looked Close Enough, You Could See Perfectly Preserved Fingerprints, On The Cracked Glass Of The Window, As If She Were Longing To Be Free, As If She Were A Prisoner, In A Colorful Cell, A Prisoner In Lockless Cage, A Prisoner With Flushed Cheeks, Yet A Face Still Pale, One Who Longed To Express Herself, To The Monarchy, Imprisoned For Creativity, She Lay In This Room, Breathed This Air, Painted These Pictures, Yet Where Is She Now?*
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Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 7:47 PM UTC
A Room In My Soul
*A Door's Rusty Hinges Screeched As It Is Opened, Though The Outside Of This Hall Is Ugly, Paint Chipping, The Scars Of Screams Entwined In Eggshell Trim, The Room Which Lays On The Other Side, Is Full Of Beauty, Is Full Of Tubes Of Paint, Some Which Lay On The Floor, Which Kisses Oak Furnishings, Some Lay On An Abandon Easel, Next To A Canvas, Half Completed, Created By Shaky Hands* *Empty Vases Sit On A Window Pane, Which Await, For The Return Of Freshly Picked Wild Flowers, Awaiting The Return, Of The Soft Glow Of A Candle, A Lanturn Perches On A Bookshelf, Full Of Stained Pages And Ripped Covers, The Stale Scent Of Memories Cling To Each Chapter, A Small Handcrafted Stool, Sits In This Ancient Home, In The Artist's Heart* *The Ancient Smell Of Paint, Is No More, Though The Stains Of Blues And Greens, Are Now Grey As Clay Upon The Floor, Yet Paintings Dwell On The Off-White Walls, Some Brilliant, Others A Hot Mess, Self Portraits, Redish Hair Cascading Like A Waterfall, Down A Slim Collarbone, Some Of Them The Women Smiles, Others She Frowns, Landscapes Of Rolling Hills, And The Moonlight Leaking Through Coniffer Forests, Are Stacked Ontop Of Eachother, And A Mirror Which Stared At The Artist's Face, And Who Saw Her Take Her Last Breath, Climbs Motionlessly On The Wall* *If You Looked Close Enough, You Could See Perfectly Preserved Fingerprints, On The Cracked Glass Of The Window, As If She Were Longing To Be Free, As If She Were A Prisoner, In A Colorful Cell, A Prisoner In Lockless Cage, A Prisoner With Flushed Cheeks, Yet A Face Still Pale, One Who Longed To Express Herself, To The Monarchy, Imprisoned For Creativity, She Lay In This Room, Breathed This Air, Painted These Pictures, Yet Where Is She Now?*
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58
It's easy to be good at many things, It's sad to be known for just a few; It's alright to try everything once, But it's hard to be an Ace among the crew. It does take a lot of courage To accept the norms and later pine; But to stand up to what you believe in-- That takes a hell of a thick spine! People call it arrogance, To walk away from the crowd; But with time, the one who walked away, Is the one who walks proud. Free will is an illusion for many, It's a social necessity to walk in a herd; Society accepts you on its own conditions-- Which if not fulfilled, you remain unheard... There's a monarchy of tradition, That feeds a monopoly of disappointment; *It's your charity to their egos, That secures your appointment!* Go, find where you belong, Amidst this raging tide; Swim through the mailstorm, Pull at the chains that keep you tied. Break free of those psych bonds, Move out into the light; Rid yourself of that ancient poison, And proclaim your own path as right.
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Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 2:35 PM UTC
Become the Ace
I feel for the children indoctrinated into religion. I feel for the kids that can't, won't question faith. I feel fortunate I wasn't brainwashed like that. I feel my thoughts are my own, I feel the theists have had that stolen from them. but I am intact. only when I realise I can't love a catholic girl with my everything and my chest seizes up when I hear them say grace, I see I'm not better off than they are. in the same way that they have been tricked to believe in a celestial monarchy, and see satan in me so have I been tricked to see satan in them. I hate the church. I thought I could still love the people. but you can't hate anything and still love the people. I and we all have been rendered incapable of fully accepting the implicit, fundamental unity that does not name. our parents didn't do it, their grandparents didn't do it. it started forever ago and it's never going away. we could of all loved each other but we ****** up the axiom. it's the greatest sin of all, and it's nobody's fault.
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Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 9:22 AM UTC
we ****** up the axiom
The result of privatization Is a loss too great to bear Government bowing to Industries Leading us towards despair Industries teach our children Whatever whim they choose While government stands in shackles It'll happen while we snooze Gamble with Social Security Until there is nothing left The brokers will have the money While leaving us all bereft Take elderly off of Medicare Give them a voucher instead When the market costs too much Who'll pay for their hospital bed? When people remove a government What will come in its place? The wealthy, the prideful, the arrogant Will take charge of the human race Didn't we fight for our freedom To break from the monarchy? Privatization rules through business For the elite to rule with greed
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Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 6:31 PM UTC
Privatization
Your jewel incrusted crown, isn't as beautiful as it once was. The gems are popping out because the glue didn't hold. Your majesty is a fake! He rules relentlessly over everyone, when in reality he is no one. Your beloved monarchy is a lie! A fraud!
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May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 8:08 AM UTC
Your false monarchy
There's some sort of magic between the eyes of a resting jaguar. Their languid yawn, opening the gaping maw that lies between their strong teeth, more energetic than their tired paws. Still and regal, wearing muscles like fine silks, their fur like that final kingly cape and their ears their crown. A zoo jaguar once met my eyes and in a deadlocked stare, saw the camera in my hands, and turned his head to pose. A prince always knows when to please his peasantry. As a pleased peasant, I snapped pictures and nearly cried at his serene posture behind a wall of glass. There was some sort of uncharted beauty in the way he spoke without words oversaturating his meanings. It was a way I wished to speak. He was a comrade behind glass, silent yet observant and knowing. Though my head might be a good fit for a maw, I nearly wanted to keep him close company. The dark spots that adorn his body are the only betrayers of the fierce undertones of his monarchy. Well, except for the teeth, of course. Though I try to unlock my gaze and detach from the gossamer threads that were beginning to tie, the jaguar eyes and jaguar prince incessantly seep into my brain, for when I close my eyes all I can see is theirs staring back at me. All I want is just one hand, a single touch, a gift to feel their crowns and robes, to experience the powerful royalty beneath their quiet eyes, even if being taken by their maw may end up being the price. My affection becomes jarred by the human hand jostling my wrist, and I blink for the first time since seeing the posing feline prince. My head turns, trance averted, and I'm looked at with perplexion as my body has sidled up to the glass, and the Jaguar, now alert, is swinging its tail and staring in wonderment at me. My eyes magnetize back to their rightful place, his green eyes on my green eyes, and I wonder what lives we would live like if I could see into his mind and know what's he's like. Perhaps we would be friends, or family, or hunters, or partners, in that other life. Or, perhaps he'd want to eat me nonetheless. One more camera shot of my jaguar prince, and a silent nod as he situates himself back to his pose. Restful, regal, serene. Turning away, I feel myself leave a part of me that always stays with him and taking that part of him that stays with me. Every wild eye does, and our secret we will keep.
0
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 10:53 AM UTC
Jaguar Eyes
There's some sort of magic between the eyes of a resting jaguar. Their languid yawn, opening the gaping maw that lies between their strong teeth, more energetic than their tired paws. Still and regal, wearing muscles like fine silks, their fur like that final kingly cape and their ears their crown. A zoo jaguar once met my eyes and in a deadlocked stare, saw the camera in my hands, and turned his head to pose. A prince always knows when to please his peasantry. As a pleased peasant, I snapped pictures and nearly cried at his serene posture behind a wall of glass. There was some sort of uncharted beauty in the way he spoke without words oversaturating his meanings. It was a way I wished to speak. He was a comrade behind glass, silent yet observant and knowing. Though my head might be a good fit for a maw, I nearly wanted to keep him close company. The dark spots that adorn his body are the only betrayers of the fierce undertones of his monarchy. Well, except for the teeth, of course. Though I try to unlock my gaze and detach from the gossamer threads that were beginning to tie, the jaguar eyes and jaguar prince incessantly seep into my brain, for when I close my eyes all I can see is theirs staring back at me. All I want is just one hand, a single touch, a gift to feel their crowns and robes, to experience the powerful royalty beneath their quiet eyes, even if being taken by their maw may end up being the price. My affection becomes jarred by the human hand jostling my wrist, and I blink for the first time since seeing the posing feline prince. My head turns, trance averted, and I'm looked at with perplexion as my body has sidled up to the glass, and the Jaguar, now alert, is swinging its tail and staring in wonderment at me. My eyes magnetize back to their rightful place, his green eyes on my green eyes, and I wonder what lives we would live like if I could see into his mind and know what's he's like. Perhaps we would be friends, or family, or hunters, or partners, in that other life. Or, perhaps he'd want to eat me nonetheless. One more camera shot of my jaguar prince, and a silent nod as he situates himself back to his pose. Restful, regal, serene. Turning away, I feel myself leave a part of me that always stays with him and taking that part of him that stays with me. Every wild eye does, and our secret we will keep.
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10
The ruler wields absolute authority, He tramples upon the minority, With ferocity, he goes out to conquer, And lays waste upon the weak across the border.
0
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 3:59 AM UTC
MONARCHY.
born 1900 when Austria was still a monarchy that did not know it was approaching its end growing up as the daughter of the mayor of a little district town big fish in a small pond educated accordingly as a ‘higher daughter’ be a home decorator do needlework be a gourmet cook play the piano be a respectable member of the community and the parish when she turned 18 after the end of world war I the social order for which she had been prepared simply disappeared her father became a disillusioned monarchist the town’s republicans elected a new mayor she married a railway engineer who left her after her daughter my mother was born she managed to survive world war II as a single mother watched her daughter fall in love with, at Christmas 1946, and marry in April 1947 a guy who had just escaped from a Soviet POW camp looked like a walking skeleton my father AND was the son of a communist who had survived world war I as a POW in Siberia strange bedfellows they used to play cards together once a week with great gusto class warfare morphed into social entertainment both my parents were working grandmother led the household on the side did bookkeeping for local businesses to bring in some money practically raised me and my brother cared for us when we were sick taught me to play the piano was always afraid we would not get enough to eat for a while, as a little child, I slept in the same room with her and learned that she had a wondrously melodious snore going over an octave & some such when, after grade school, I had to leave at 5.45 am to catch the train pulled by a sturdy steam engine that took me to the high school 50km down the road she was concerned when I rushing out the door just grabbed parts of the breakfast she had so lovingly prepared when I left home for university she was not happy when I went to the USA for a whole year she was disconsolate she did enjoy her great-grandkids when they visited, though too much distance for too long from the place of her birth made her uncomfortable in her later years she needed a familiar place that came with its familiar things to do and know she lived to be 87 I saw her last after a second stroke had mostly incapacitated her a tiny woman curled up waiting to leave us for a world that finally might heal the pain and disappointment she had so bravely mastered throughout her life
0
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 6:50 PM UTC
GRANDMOTHER
born 1900 when Austria was still a monarchy that did not know it was approaching its end growing up as the daughter of the mayor of a little district town big fish in a small pond educated accordingly as a ‘higher daughter’ be a home decorator do needlework be a gourmet cook play the piano be a respectable member of the community and the parish when she turned 18 after the end of world war I the social order for which she had been prepared simply disappeared her father became a disillusioned monarchist the town’s republicans elected a new mayor she married a railway engineer who left her after her daughter my mother was born she managed to survive world war II as a single mother watched her daughter fall in love with, at Christmas 1946, and marry in April 1947 a guy who had just escaped from a Soviet POW camp looked like a walking skeleton my father AND was the son of a communist who had survived world war I as a POW in Siberia strange bedfellows they used to play cards together once a week with great gusto class warfare morphed into social entertainment both my parents were working grandmother led the household on the side did bookkeeping for local businesses to bring in some money practically raised me and my brother cared for us when we were sick taught me to play the piano was always afraid we would not get enough to eat for a while, as a little child, I slept in the same room with her and learned that she had a wondrously melodious snore going over an octave & some such when, after grade school, I had to leave at 5.45 am to catch the train pulled by a sturdy steam engine that took me to the high school 50km down the road she was concerned when I rushing out the door just grabbed parts of the breakfast she had so lovingly prepared when I left home for university she was not happy when I went to the USA for a whole year she was disconsolate she did enjoy her great-grandkids when they visited, though too much distance for too long from the place of her birth made her uncomfortable in her later years she needed a familiar place that came with its familiar things to do and know she lived to be 87 I saw her last after a second stroke had mostly incapacitated her a tiny woman curled up waiting to leave us for a world that finally might heal the pain and disappointment she had so bravely mastered throughout her life
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92
“It's very difficult not to come across as a supremacist when there are so many black inferiorists around.” ― David Bullard Look!..he's a leech, he's a parasite That black man is draining the Taxpayers He comes from a rich family, they say they are titled Look at him, educated and refined, arrogant as black **** Go get him, the ******* parasite cheating the working classes Why not tell the ******* truth That a white family of thieves broke into the flat of a black man Something that they had done once already and caught but let off Because they were neighbours and pitied, police were not involved They did it again and were called thieving working class scums Up comes hail and thunder and war Their Militant leftist friends say it Anti-monarchy Revolution Say's victim is a parasite and a leech, robbing the working classes Go get him, his life destroy, cast him asunder, hound him to hell Down with the rich, this is war, people's power, this is democracy LIES, HOGWASH, DISINGENUOUS ******** RACIST CRAP They can't bear to see a black man do well They can't bear a respectable, decent, confident black man To then stand up and call them out to their faces was the ultimate They are supreme and all else must fall before them or put down A black that is not a Black Inferiorist must be discredited at all cost If the situation was reversed And a black thief steals from an equivalent white with same status (   He comes from a rich family, they say they are titled ) Would the reactions be the same (Say's victim is a parasite and a leech, robbing the working classes ) Honesty says NO, you know it and we all know it (Supremacy has taught him that all people of color are threats irrespective of their behavior. Capitalism has taught him that, at all costs, his property can and must be protected. Patriarchy has taught him that his masculinity has to be proved by the willingness to conquer fear through aggression) But the black man becomes a leech, a parasite a threat For standing up to white criminals and daring to call them out Devious political  chicanery is unleashed and our Supremacists All rally up, totting falsehood and misinformation to cover truths Why don't see any Class war action in Kensington and Chelsea What really bothers some of you is simple - and you corrupt others Blacks must always be inferior and if they are not, you fight secretly and covertly! Because only you have the God given right to live decently Only you have the right to air your opinion or disagreement Only you have the right to call it as you think you see it. And you'll fight tooth and nail and with everything else to keep it that way!
0
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 10:02 AM UTC
Goebbels Propaganda......
“It's very difficult not to come across as a supremacist when there are so many black inferiorists around.” ― David Bullard Look!..he's a leech, he's a parasite That black man is draining the Taxpayers He comes from a rich family, they say they are titled Look at him, educated and refined, arrogant as black **** Go get him, the ******* parasite cheating the working classes Why not tell the ******* truth That a white family of thieves broke into the flat of a black man Something that they had done once already and caught but let off Because they were neighbours and pitied, police were not involved They did it again and were called thieving working class scums Up comes hail and thunder and war Their Militant leftist friends say it Anti-monarchy Revolution Say's victim is a parasite and a leech, robbing the working classes Go get him, his life destroy, cast him asunder, hound him to hell Down with the rich, this is war, people's power, this is democracy LIES, HOGWASH, DISINGENUOUS ******** RACIST CRAP They can't bear to see a black man do well They can't bear a respectable, decent, confident black man To then stand up and call them out to their faces was the ultimate They are supreme and all else must fall before them or put down A black that is not a Black Inferiorist must be discredited at all cost If the situation was reversed And a black thief steals from an equivalent white with same status (   He comes from a rich family, they say they are titled ) Would the reactions be the same (Say's victim is a parasite and a leech, robbing the working classes ) Honesty says NO, you know it and we all know it (Supremacy has taught him that all people of color are threats irrespective of their behavior. Capitalism has taught him that, at all costs, his property can and must be protected. Patriarchy has taught him that his masculinity has to be proved by the willingness to conquer fear through aggression) But the black man becomes a leech, a parasite a threat For standing up to white criminals and daring to call them out Devious political  chicanery is unleashed and our Supremacists All rally up, totting falsehood and misinformation to cover truths Why don't see any Class war action in Kensington and Chelsea What really bothers some of you is simple - and you corrupt others Blacks must always be inferior and if they are not, you fight secretly and covertly! Because only you have the God given right to live decently Only you have the right to air your opinion or disagreement Only you have the right to call it as you think you see it. And you'll fight tooth and nail and with everything else to keep it that way!
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42
Three nobles were fleeing after the monarchy had been overthrown Three non-polar amino acids were trying to get away from the polar gel they were on They were escaping through means of a merchant who dealt with the black market He gave priority to those who paid a heftier sum The amino acids were aided by a non-polar liquid solution The more non-polar the amino acid the higher up the solution could get them But alas! For the merchant lacked the resources to get the nobles out of danger The amino acids all eventually reached the top of the gel sheet But they would need extra aid to go over the top And that is my science class
0
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 3:59 PM UTC
From TLC lab to Story Time
Democracy What is it, really? An illusion, if you ask me A system making you think you can choose it The system plays you a great trick Use my home land, a case study. She's flawed from when she used the military Canada lost sight for morality The United Kingdom then becomes a general market even though it's a Monarchy Wake up! Democracy is only a trick Russia is still in Capitalism China is still most Socialist till this day; She's still practicing socialism Arabia is better off with Federalism How then do you think Democracy is real? She's flawed and ill Makes you to **** Not minding if it's your kin I still root for Monarchy, I get to know my king And even the military, the soldiers act by order. So what then is Democracy?
0
May 4, 2023
May 4, 2023 at 3:39 PM UTC
Democracy
Such sweet lies How you had everyone fooled I played a pawn in your works Now we must say death to our king Along with his deceitful queen How lovely you are Even behind cold metal bars Love is meaningless Rise up against the monarchy my fellow pieces And we shall overthrow For we are your foes
0
Jun 4, 2010
Jun 4, 2010 at 7:12 PM UTC
A Game of Chess