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The Revolution will not be pay-per-view,
Streamed online, or listed in the TV Guide,
The Revolution will be LIVE ON AIR
Rush seating No reservations First to come are first to serve
The Revolution will not be monetarily politicized,
the Revolution will be patronized

Next, On the World Today Network: Revolution This Way Comes

The Revolution will not be a mutually exclusive for
CBC, BBC, CNN, YouTube, Facebook, SnapChat, or Instagram
The Revolution is more than digital trolling,
It will be a Counter-Electronic-Magnetic-Pulse

Do you have your passport for the Revolution?

The Revolution is unauthorized
Written for and by all the people
The Revolution is radical, hands-on, and requires assembly
Batteries are not included and there is no manufacturer’s warantee,  
The Revolution will be uncomfortable for those living in leisure
For it has been bred to cause the Elite displeasure

Revolution 99% Uploaded
Press [ENTER] key to initiate collective action
~
NM 10/17/15

Read, watched, Listened for snippets
Wore the buttons,
Devoured anything…
Apartheid

Had my own personal
Bedroom Revolution...
Jumped high…In place… with the best of them
Little balled up fists…
Pumping…
Chanted the chants
Sang the song

Freeee-ee Nelson Mandelaaaa
Freeee-ee Nelson Mandelaaaa

And I meant it!  
Oh My God I meant it from my
young revolutionary soul
Cried adolescent girl cries
For our South African brothers and sisters
All of the martyrs
Known and unknown

STOP APARTHIED!
STOP APARTHIED!

Free Nelson Mandela!!

To this very day

I love me some Nelson Mandela

Love the man he is
Mourn the man he was
Big Fine Educated Pugilistic
African
Man
Passionate
Compassionate
On that serious mission

Who, though technically still breathing upon his release, in reality
Gave his life
To promote the cessation of
An idea more merciless even than the Rwandan genocide
In that Death
Seldom came quickly
A system more sadistic even than the African Slave Trade
In that it was not based economically

Therefore ALL the
“Kaffers”
Could be maimed or die
And it wouldn’t cost a thing…
Monetarily speaking

A society wherein
Each Black death  
Someone’s Job… or
Someone’s Entertainment
Every atrocity’s purpose to serve only to
Douse fuel on the already
Brightly burning fire of
Hate and torture and hate

I love Nelson Mandela

For making like David
And having the *****
To take on the Goliath
Apartheid

Satan is creative
His minions resourceful
We will never know the indignities;
Can only imagine the violations
My Nelson was forced to endure
Imprisoned for 27 years

I love
Nelson Mandela
For having the strength
To keep living
When so many others couldn’t
Still able to put
One
In front of
The other
Albeit gingerly
But still locomoting
Out of hell
On his own two feet…
That alone makes him a hero
To me

In my heart he will always be
The

Big
Fine
Educated
Pugilistic
Passionate
Compassionate
Hero
­
That the young revolutionary in me
sings about…

What is this, this incessant need to help?
Why must I help everyone whos path I cross?
Be it emotional or physical, monetarily or otherwise.

I have to help but want none when I need it.
I can handle whatever baggage is placed upon my shoulders,
but I cannot seems to handle my own
and im being crushed under the wait.

What is this paradox that I'm in?
How do I stop this ride from spinning so fast?
Its making me sick but I dont want to get off.
How is it that I can handle everyones burdens?

I can help you, If you'll let me.
I'll carry that for you if youd like me too.
I'll walk that line if you need it.
I can be that person for you. I can whatever you need me to be
I can  handle it cause I have to, cause I want to, cause I need to.

I wish I knew why I dont want anyone to help me
I just know I feel free of the emotions that seem to plague others.
So I guess I need to feel them through everyone else.

Love, Joy, Pain, Hate. I feel these
Sadness, Misery, Suffering. I feel these
Kindness, Caring, Empathy. I feel these
Hope, Passion, Trust. I feel these

I feel emotion I am just not controlled by them,
I rule them not they rule me.
I can not not help someone but I dont want help when I need it.

To me
more than just a vessel to the afterlife
but it might just be

I build my pyramid on the carpet
4x3
One by three by five by seven
So on and so forth

Above all this pyramid has the power
to change my life
Monetarily
Immortality
or
most importantly
for myself
right
here
(The Heart)

I have quite a simple request, I believe
I just seek the slightest of reassurance
With the smallest amount of attention that could be given

I do not desire much
Not temporally, not monetarily
I simply wish for the bare minimum
The very smallest amount
I would be more than willing for it

I would take the smallest amount of attention
A mere decimal of your precious time
I wouldn't complain
I wouldn't argue
I wouldn't do anything beyond show gratitude....


It is clear that the bare minimum is simply too much to ask
So why won't you just tell me this?
Why do you promise "always"
When the actions yield a  "sometimes"

Why do you dream of mountains but stay on the molehills?
Why do you act as though your world is coming to an end, when it has only just begun?
Why do you hide away in your abode, cooped up with your electronic plaything
The stupid, minuscule electric computers
That are running our lives, and our communication skills into the ground

And why do you tell me to trust what cannot be trusted?
Why do you forgo honesty; because you
Wish not to hurt my feelings?

The disconnect hurts much more than any truth ever could

In a distance I see a glow.
I can't escape the  shine,
It almost feels like it's mine.
So much greenery that I feel serenity.
You see the best green as money,
I see the best green as the grass and trees.
One monetarily makes you happy
The other can always bring you joy.
Years of growth.
Showing you it is possible to be beautiful
Naturally.
Artificial beauty fades like ink on a paper.
It just blows in the wind,
To never be seen again.
Stand tall and don't give in to the wind
Is all the trees tell me.
Life can be beautiful and full of life.
Obvious yet some live and have no life,
Not reaching their full potential.
They die lifeless.
I choose to live life beautifully and loudly,
Like the grass and trees.

Heavy was the globe, until the glove hit
Found himself entangled in a handlebar flip
Iron in the taste, ****** waste
Continuum drawn back on a meaningless quip

Unsteady footing reminiscent of preschool days, snorting paste
Zebra striped mockery, paid off the books; his vision’s been maced
Early end to prolonged exposure, he tries to bait
Steady eyed denial approaches with haste

The monetarily gorged rule keeper entangles in debate
Opponent grows weary appearing irate
He recalls the words in a blank cheque written by a weak frame
A levelling blow leaves his opponent in a blank state

World weary and star struck to blame
All in pursuit of everlasting fame

Appetizing morsels of snack food leftovers, jammed down the throats of the gathering’s well-meaning occupants, trapped in place, paralyzed by purchasing power, co-mingling amongst a gossamer of plague ridden staff, exercising their right to a paltry sum, at the cost of worldly dignity.

Tupperware auctioned off at a silent word, while women with crow’s feet crevices compile layers of expensive, foundry concealer, birthing a new, more melancholic Pagliacci, only to be outdone by the next in line.

Sound equipment, purchased over market value, placed on the showroom floor, mechanically regurgitating a playlist of old hits as broken hips slaughter the concept of rhythm and cadence, dancing for their youth, embarrassed by their age.

Late husband’s life insurance, blown on a new make-up line tested on Lassie, bought for the sake of a cost-free gift, which would have the woman’s palm eaten out by a monetarily starved charlatan, rented out on an hourly basis.

Sprayed odors, mixing and merging as they meet on the undersides of veiny wrists, fumigating the stale air, weakening the legs of the participants, dropping them to the floor as sequenced lights illuminate in time with an ancient billboard tune.

Eight o’clock bedtime, difficult to impose, when giddy patrons stay drunk on the bliss of over-spending, knocking off to a land of nod in unmonitored broom closets, clutching at their purchases with the vigor of a lowly man in pursuit of his bottle.

The night slows, crawling in turn with a dead clock as it ticks in place, stalemated, flinching, but not forward, only in place.

Lights leave the room, and silence ensues, the visitors leave, weighted down to a lifeless crawl by their numerous, unnecessary purchases in overfilled, non-recyclable shopping bags.

finding myself struggling with twenty-seven years
the magic number until I can retire
seems a thousand lifetimes away
and how will I ever stay in one place that long…
for near forty years’ worth of days
I have floundered between part-time
and joblessness… some of it as a ******
some as a young adult trying to find my way…
pondering solvency, monetarily
I consider my real options:
theft leads to jail
hard work leads to hard work
401k’s and retirement planning
are often stolen by the greed of the 1%-ers
bailout for the monopoly kings…
where is my bailout for living in America for this long?
who has been diligently investing in my trust fund?
why is this what ‘making it’ looks like?
answerless questions lay piled on the floor
some hurriedly jotted on napkins
others tattooed on my forehead
none ripe or ready…
I know I can keep on keeping on
I hustled ****** for ten years
….but I want it to be easier
I desire to bathe in bling
and throw hundreds out the window
yelling about how much I don’t give a ****
….but for now, I will just get up to my alarm
wash my face and hands
and play slave to the machine one more day

Cattedrale Metropolitana di San Pietro

If the Heaven’s are as beautiful,
as they are portrayed here in these painting,
upon the ceiling of this cathedral,
in this city known as Bologna,
then I pray I go to Heaven,
I pray Heaven’s angelic escorts,
descend from there heavenly nest,
and carry me home upon their white wings,

which would be fitting since I’m in a place of worship,  
at Cattedrale Metropolitana di San Pietro in Bologna,
feeling like Saint Peter not a preacher but a leader with words,
willing to be crucified and die in the name of God,
if it will help skeptics become believers,
see even though I believe,
that every place is a place of worship,
most people tread upon earthly desires without any respect,

and I want to vent but I won’t get into all that now,
this is not the time or place,
this is a time and a place for prayers to be sent,
and I won’t let wants get in the way of prayers,

praying,

for world peace of course because what other prayer is as important,
people have been praying for peace in a different time in this same place for centuries,
since at least 1028 A.D. people have knelt before God at this cathedral,
I doubt I’m the first poet to have His prayers echoed across these marble walls,

“Oh God,
please help those that are hurting,
please help those that are lost find their way,
please heal this conditioned hatred with unconditional love.”

80 more were just murdered,
in The Nice Massacre just today July 14th, 2016,
mowed down by a psychopath in a 20 ton cargo truck,
in acts this atrocious we are lost at who to blame,

so I’m praying praying for the murdered and their families,
I’m praying for the murderer and his family too,
because in atrocities such as this,
all involved are victims even the culprits,

at the pulpit I pray,

“Oh God,
I’m both disheartened and inspired by humanity,
I see so many wonderful creations,
and so much horrible destruction.”

I have a #1 best selling book out right now,
but I honest don’t know if it even matters,
because what good are the most healing words,
if most of those hurting don’t read them,
I’m doing the best I can,
I give away all literary profits to charity,
but when it comes to giving to charity,
you can give everything you have and it’s still not enough,

so I try and give globally and act locally,
I smile and try and be kind and considerate to everyone I meet,
but even those who are most faithful can begin to become doubtful,
when they are nice to those around them but most people respond by being mean,

I mean it’s hard to stay faithful especially when everyone heeds help,
even myself what’s wealth when it comes with doldrums,
see rich and poor are monetarily very different,
but one thing they have in common is they’re both hurting just in different ways,

so I pray,

“Oh God,
please show me a sign because all I see when I walk down this street,
is sins that are alive and striving and blessings that seem to be slowly dying,
one smile for every ten frowns I know because I count the faces of everyone even those I don’t meet.”,

even I have a tear in my eye God,
but I just blame it on the cold morning winds,
it seems nothing’s changed even though I’m now famous,
it’s like I’ve got all the ammo in the world but don’t know where to aim it,

and that is why I’m praying,

“Oh God,
allow your angels to carry me home,
upon golden wings of loving light,
I swear to You I’m ready to go,
ready when you are there is no need to keep writing,
it all feels in vain anyways because no matter what we say people keep killing,
I mean what good is writing the signs when those that need them most don’t read them,
and what good are the hopeful promises that people make when the people that make them don’t keep them?”,

“See even though it all feels in vain still I will continue to faithfully write until You take me home,
I continue to write wherever I be which currently is between massive twin pillars of marvelous marble,
at this place of worship entitled the Cattedrale Metropolitana di San Pietro,
I write words of hope and wisdom in the hopes that the masses will listen,

whether at a beautiful cathedral or on worn streets either way I write to warn worn souls,
so hopefully You can reach the people through these prayers in the form of these verses,
from ghettos and prisons to palaces and churches I continue to faithfully write,
as I do this very moment at this cathedral on this day the 15th of July 2016 A.D. in this present moment of time,

Oh God I pray,

If the Heaven’s are as beautiful,
as they are portrayed here in these painting,
upon the ceiling of this cathedral,
in this city known as Bologna,
then I pray I go to Heaven,
I pray Heaven’s angelic escorts,
descend from there heavenly nest,
and carry me home upon their white wings…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

Monetarily I am okay,
Physically I am defeated
Mentally I am doing my best.
3/6/2021

(how about that topic for a change of pace?)

Yes back to getting walloped, decked
and clubbed courtesy cold hearted brute,
who casually, glad handedly, and royally
flushed out mine tailored pricey suit
wherein every pocket
once stashed, and lined with loot.

Ever since scamming imbroglio
(three weeks ago today -
July eleventh two thousand twenty three)
yours truly, a formerly
happy go lucky wordsmith
immune to the plethora
of devious shenanigans
courtesy predacious traitors
to the bywords of honesty and integrity
scamper away with laundered money.

Mine fantasy modus operandi to cope
regarding falling prey
to hoax gullible guy
to surrender crisp greenbacks
entrapment like a dope
no matter poet of Penn Valley
at the end of his figurative rope,
when fraudsters shill and scope
out crosshairs stunning
persons exhibiting naïveté
the following escapist ploy adopted.

E'er since I (a reincarnated cavalier
or gentleman snubbed
by sought after Southern Belle)
at night suicidal ideations
visit psyche as haunting spectre
sublimated death wish
permeates thru mine every cell
courting the grim reaper
to carry me back to carry
me back to Old Virginny,

where lovely bones
of me Confederate ancestors dwell
upon ****** fields farewell
to arms and legs
mounted battlefields when groundswell
of internecine warfare
made life on earth
wind and fire created a living hell
he who fleeced me
vengeance doth impel
to imagine him gunned down
as enemy numero uno.

Moribund courtesy online heist
me entire being feels
chopped, minced, and appallingly diced,
hence no surprise

sheepishly admitting to ewe
how yours truly still feels blue
aghast at passivity prevailed
how grievousness flourishes
checking and savings accounts
frankly zapped analogous
how David regarding Goliath he slew,
yet impossible mission
to know your enemy

with absolute zero details,
cuz the fly by night scamp
flat out sold pack of lies
of course I voluntarily
must admit straightaway and true
mine fingers converted cash
to bitcoin currency
yet entranced, kickstarted, seduced
as Harvey Specter
did courtesy sotto voce woo.

Days Of Distraction: The List

What can they be?
They seem to go on endlessly.
Helping out a friend in need;
Finding ways to heed the need(s)
Of several needy friends in need.
Ignoring things that might be done,
Might be some fun
And useful monetarily.
Ignoring requisites of I, myself and me.
Structure: that’s one key.
Thinking practically; harmony.
Priority to me, myself and I.

Life is simple.
Roof, warmth, food -
Summed up sample of the simple,
Which gives ample time
To carry out the other,
'Other' meaning tools which further
Happiness and satisfaction.

Paying bills and buying,
Days of duty and temptation;
Stress and tension:
‘Stressed out’ grown to idiom.

What to do about this ‘dream’,
For dream it is.
This is a list and not a scheme;
Not a plan nor stratagem.
Read and think, find out!
The answer lies in nought but thee.
(That’s you and me).
You’ll see
               what works.

Days Of Distraction 10.21.2017
Definitely Didactic; I Is Always You Is Me;
Arlene Corwin

Chatted with my 'English rose' of a daughter (raised in Oxford, England now residing in Oregon, USA.) who complained of distractions which keep her from other, perhaps more practical or and/or rewarding things.  It inspired these little reflections.
It will go into my collections: Definitely Didactic and I Is Always We Is You.  By the way, my 16th book Birth, Death & In Between II went into publication today!

When with more than enough,
You're capable of giving someone else enough,
Fighting poverty isn't all about pushing the UN to act,
When in fact,
You may be capable.
If not monetarily able,
The least we can do is appreciate what we have and pray for the unstable,
Prayer misses no point,
It makes connections even where there seems to be no possible joint.

Just editing my next book "Definitely Didactic" and thought I'd share this.

   Days Of Distraction: The List

What can they be?
They seem to go on endlessly.
Helping out a friend in need;
Finding ways to heed the need(s)
Of several needy friends in need.
Ignoring things that might be done,
Might be some fun
And useful monetarily.
Ignoring requisites of I, myself and me.
Structure: that’s one key.
Thinking practically; harmony.
Priority to me, myself and I.

Life is simple.
Roof, warmth, food -
Summed up sample of the simple,
Which gives ample time
To carry out the other,
'Other' meaning tools which further
Happiness and satisfaction.

Paying bills and buying,
Days of duty and temptation;
Stress and tension:
‘Stressed out’ grown to idiom.

What to do about this ‘dream’,
For dream it is.
This is a list and not a scheme;
Not a plan nor stratagem.
Read and think, find out!
The answer lies in nought but thee.
(That’s you and me).
You’ll see
               what works.

Days Of Distraction 10.21.2017 Definitely Didactic; I Is Always You Is Me; Arlene Corwin
Chatted with my 'English rose' of a daughter (raised in Oxford, England now residing in Oregon, USA.) who complained of distractions which keep her from other, perhaps more practical or and/or rewarding things.  It inspired these little reflections.
It will go into my collections: Definitely Didactic and I Is Always We Is You.  By the way, my 16th book Birth, Death & In Between II went into publication today!

Not everyone can be an “every-one”
But I am one who wants to dip my hands
In many fields of life
So as to be an omni-aid “when duty calls.”
Of course, I don’t always know what I get myself into,
And may not consider that I could regret doing too much
Or find myself doing what I don’t want to do.
Generally, if I could, I would monetarily give
To every figure standing vertically still along main areas of traffic
Who always appear to be seeking some kind of recognition.
Not that I stare, but when my pockets lack coins or bills,
I can only offer a silent word behind the steering wheel
For the ones standing in search of hope car-by-car.
I love to write, so why not write to a soldier or someone who could use a note?
Because, alas, rules and regulations for companies intimidate my passion
To do good yet follow procedures.
With my loves for drawing, writing, cleaning, fixing, puzzles,
I know there’s a lot I can contribute,
Not speaking haughtily but in respectful confidence,
But it also can come down to who would be receptively interested,
How often I could commit,
And am I giving more than I’m being given?
If I can give until I cannot give anymore,
As wearing as this may sound in words,
What else would I need?

yesterday can feel like months
or even years away...

              all because you pounce
out of bed,
and begin an argument
about three glasses sitting
     on the sink...

   like it's a hoarder's genesis
to clutter...
     on the odd surmount -
it is a mother,
and i somehow grip to a patience...

but the whole thing is
shambles...
the original idea that allowed me
to get out of bed
like a kangaroo sinks...

insult after insult...
    this that and the other...
from a woman who doesn't see
what 0 hours contract has
done to working
in a supermarket...

   why are these people happy
doing 0 hour contracts?!
i sometimes see this person,
that person,
then some other person...
   doctors are supposed
to sign up to: being on call...
not supermarket
shelf stacker!

            i guess with writing i
know i'm doing something right...
hell... it's not exactly Stephen King...
but it's something...

three unwashed glasses
sitting on a sink, monetarily,
and i'm talking to a woman
feeling that i'm about to be castrated
by a ****...
          
                the ups and downs
of: unaffordable rents and
even more unaffordable housing...
****... social housing for men
about to start off?
single mothers, sure...
men?
either the streets or a tent
shanty town in a forest...
with a chance for eviction...

        yeah, men have it real bad,
but we're the ones who
have to come up with
existentialist solutions,
meanings, purposes,
a woman can oven bake
    the meaning of existence in
9 months...
which is focal around,
but one argument:
continuity...
     i have to sit here,
and think of something outside
the realm of giving
birth and securing
the fluidity of a healthy economy
buying, things,
that women would buy...

i have it easy...
any given day...
the troubles of 9 months
over 90 year of idiotic
bewilderment...
    and the bewilderment doesn't
even last 90 years,
since another bunch
of ******* are on their way...
men have it easy...
yeah... reads like a quote
from the ******* Bible...

and how much of feminism is
borrowed from
horror sci-fi?
the whole... alien thing?
how much?
i'm guessing pretty much all of it...
perhaps there's the postnatal
depression...
but then there must be a
pregnancy psychosis of being...
hijacked...
             yes... hijacked...
but never pampered...
just ego-****** incubating a fetus...

nice one...
      
i could work in a shop,
believe me...
my highest ambition was to work
in a music shop...
but guess what?!
   only food shops, cafes,
mobile phone outlets
and shoe shops are running the market...

so i say to this woman...
like brick walls over paintings?
no?
  how about the sound of silence...
turn the radio off...
the free aspect of any
production of art...
        some things are just:
necessary...

sudoku no. 10,197...
i love it when one of the grids is left
blank...
    you can easily note
which final numbers fit into all 9...
3, 8, 6, 7, 9, 1, 2, 4, 5...
  
like that 20th century dialectical
question that seems to be the only one
that still exists...
the Rolling Stones, or the Beatles...
neither, Aerosmith...
why? because i saw them live
in Hyde Park...

or from the 80s...
    Depeche Mode or the Cure?
i also saw Depeche Mode in Hyde Park...

beside the point...
what was my morning thought?
ah...
   i don't know how i managed
to keep it in my subconsciousness
without it slipping into
the unconscious and forgetfulness...

a funny thought...
i know why i dream so little...
or hardly at all...
   my capacity to dream has
been eroded with my
treating the faculty of memory
like a recurring movie -
this whole memory cinema...
or cinema of the memory...
the fact that i remember
as much as i do,
and yes, selectively,
      none the less the details,
could imply why i do not
have a brain that has evolved
to find meaning in
  dreams, per se -
i.e. dreams for the sake of dreaming...

i hear of the Anglophone high status
of dreaming encounters...
how the Anglophone people
are master architects of dreams...
maybe i'm not evolved to become
an architect of dreams,
but i'm pretty sure that,
the nature of your unconscious
doesn't allow you access
to being, in charge...

                      how can someone be
in charge of dreaming?
     i've heard that somewhere...
which makes more sense to do away
with the faculty of dreaming...
riddled with Freudian easy
access to ******* or counter-*******
symbolism...

i'm even thinking as far as:
dreams are the remains of the consciousness
of a *****...
wacky! well no **** Sherlock!
but i'm guessing that i don't dream
as much as other people,
only because
    my memory faculty has overtaken
my capacity to dream...

memory is a cinema for me,
    and perhaps my exposure to excesses
of memory, have eroded my
physical need to dream...

  sure, i don't consciously chose what
to remember,
  but... i can't entertain the argument
that i unconsciously chose what
i remember...
                  at any given moment of
recollection...
   that's not how educational rubric learning
works before sitting down
an exam.

how can i consciously chose what
to remember... when...
even if i try...
    i am capable of forgetting what,
i "thought" i would remember...
and receive a grade F on
   an essay from history about
the crusades?

Given precious life
but they chose to go extinct
monetarily...Kelly McManus

There's value in a strong back,
there's value in ***** hands.

Would my life have been easier
working in an office?
I'm not sure there's a correlation between
happiness and ease of living.
It may have been easier overall,
but I'm not for that life.
I lose those inside jobs.
The hot breath of management on my neck,
the juvenile nature of coworkers...

Not all value is represented monetarily.
Not all money is valuable, necessarily.

Sometimes learning the hard way,
and living the hard way,
is the hidden key
to unlocking hidden fulfillment.

By: Cedric McClester

I guess it figures
They were just sand *******
And his heart’s been hardened
So he chose to pardon
Their Blackwater killers
Mercenary distillers
Of death and destruction
It’s a logical deduction

They were hell-bent
Destroying whoever went
Beyond a certain point
By bloodying up the joint
They all were identified
And convicted once tried
But now the controversy’s starting
Since he gave them a pardon

Iraqi innocents
Dead and gone since
The sons and daughters
Of people who never fought us
Victims of the slaughter
Perpetrated by Blackwater
Monetarily driven
Now all but forgiven

Though of brown  skin
Neither foe nor friend
Killed for no good reason
During that killing season
From the evidence we see
They were killed summarily
And their killers let out
Left to mingle and walk about












Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2020.  All rights reserved.

wrought maximum monetary mayhem

Incomprehensible inhumane
inquisitorial imp incarnate injudiciously,
ineffably, indescribably inflicted
inxs inexorable insidious injury.

Snake charmer also known
in the underworld as Harvey Specter
subliminally slithered,
and deftly insinuated himself
into body electric of yours truly
forever remotely controlling
every waking and sleeping moment
comprising ability to function.

Ever since I got gouged senseless
attributed to spellbound dime a dozen
crooked fiendish idiotic limey oaf,
who expunged loot lickety split
courtesy flagrant ingrate
latched outsize razor-sharp wickedness
yours truly held captive
impossible mission to recognize
trickery and deceit
tumbled into abysmal chasm,
when the floor fell below my feet.

Nothing but blackness seen ad-hoc
as I spun to and fro, hither and yon
with a monetary bedrock
timelessness prevailed,
and anyway present circumstances meant
nothing more superfluous than clock,
nevertheless precious elapsing
seconds, minutes, hours, et cetera
did nothing to lessen deadlock,

which gripped me noggin
running around like a madman
then unwittingly grabbing hold of frock
donned by a trumpeting cross dresser,
who subsequently
threatened me with his glock
and quickly proceeded
to wield powerful arms
to restrain yours truly
with asphyxiating headlock.

Alas and alack
mood of mine stormy and black
existential nihilism
nemesis Harvey Specter
mein kampf, he did carjack
creature dwelleth within soundgarden
sibilate doth issue
signaling trademark diamondback.

After the scam artist
made off like a bandit
the scoundrel hit paydirt then did exit
leaving me monetarily hemorrhaging
a gaping hole,
where I feel horrible
trying to muster true grit
cuz he (aforementioned swindler -
actually blimey crook
donned name incognito)
and did squarely land a hit

me with a devastating sucker punch
draining every last red cent
thus yours truly pleading emergency crisis
lest one victim
(me) seriously contemplates
his existence to quit
(perhaps experimenting
overdosing prescription medication)
furious at myself being such a ******;
being oblivious to obvious "red flags"
such as being told to withdraw cash

practically threatening, ordering,
kickstarting, heckling me to dash
off to Citizens Bank ignoring
feeling tension while teeth
did tightly gnash
**** and bull story, I embellished
as if strung out high on hash
witnessing webbed wide world of mine
left bereft without kash
and now I recoil
as if being beaten with a lash.

Yours truly then not in his right mind
hence funding donations
would be ever so kind
lest yours truly would be inclined
to take his (my) scrawny hind
most quarters to ten thousand cannibals
after these lovely bones licked clean
red skeleton of miine enshrined.

You should be afraid
of the way they're enslaving
monetarily

                      Kelly McManus

Born that way angry antithetical
mailer daemon when...
all of Christendom bows their collective
talking heads in supplication,
a temporary truce and reprieve
against bigotry, deviltry, idolatry (nah),  
et cetera across the nation.

Yuletide pageant merry doth go round
where credo, ethos, and
faith no more jinxes webbed, wide world,
nevertheless soul asylum limned courtesy
peace on earth and goodwill
toward all men sentiment
sacrilegious to bully,
fully sully mankind's divine holiness,
and present disgrace to human race
in the dolled guise of heretic

quasi analogous to a matador ramrod ready
to Catch Bull at Four in a China shop
gored when muleta waved -
courtesy matador incited Bos Taurus
both fuming, fretting, foaming, et cetera
even the spectators
frothing at the mouth with lather
while smartphones captured tableau
frozen in time photo touched up
stripping bare every ******

last vestige of cruelty
toward a gregarious animal
exclusively a domestic species
males genetic propensity
culled, goaded, likened as fearsome beast,
synonymous when anonymous nasty brute
fomented enormous disaster
monetarily eviscerated yours truly
an online scamming  assault,
the repercussions I still forced to wage

depredations living hand to mouth
quaffing caustic acidic ale,
a cunning prankster did stage
comparable to kindle figurative
ringed fire of rage
within my still smoldering belly –
coalescence fuels tinder
while financial security riven
and rent asunder
severely dislocating, hobbling,

paralyzing vertebrae constituting
gray and white matter, appearing
in a cross-section as H-shaped gray matter
surrounded by white matter,
whereat the gray matter consists
of the cell bodies of motor
and sensory neurons,
interneurons, and neuropils
(neuroglia cells and mostly
unmyelinated axons).

i'll never be healthy
if i continue
monetarily
emotionally
boundlessly
supporting these people
no matter mow much i love them
it makes me want to die
that i have to watch them
suffer to then
repeat these cycles
and bring more lives into it
the world feels like such a miserable place to me
i know there's happiness out there that exists
in some shape or form
but i don't feel like it's going to find me
unless i let go of everything i love and know
but if i do that
i wont have anything to hold onto

do i just float away at that point?

if i set myself on fire
i would die knowing i gave and i gave
but it'd be all for nothing
cause nothing might ever change

You’re feeling down, tired and slow
You just need a quick pick me up
You contemplate ******* or adderall

You’re feeling depressed and insecure
You just need a substance to numb yourself
You contemplate ****** or alcohol

You’re in so much pain and you hurt
You just need a quick fix to take it away
You contemplate pain-killers or muscle-relaxers

You’re drowning in anxiety and stressed out
You just need something to calm yourself down
You contemplate cbd or marijuana

You're so heartbroken you feel all the above ⬆️
You just need a drug to help numb yourself
You contemplate which one will do the job

One thing for certain is, you’re done with the most powerful drug of them all
lOvE

It always leaves you with the worst hangovers and is a gateway to the
REST

For it wasn’t until your heart was torn into two that you tried any of the
ABOVE

Now you can’t get enough of anything to make you forget about the
hEaRtBrEaK

Love is one drug you refuse to get addicted to, monetarily it is free but costs the
MOST

You are in no danger of ever being tempted to try it again after the last
RELAPSE

Know this world isn't free
were all being held hostage
monetarily

                    Kelly McManus

FAMILY DAY

Oh how I miss those days, so beautiful,  so  memorable !

Everyone so  closely knit was,  loving,  caring,  adorable

Everything n everyone, all  relationships were so  informal.

Life now is so formal, almost painful, just about tolerable

People today are more independent,  monetarily stable.

To live in luxury and style, with facilities many, they are able.

Without their own dear ones they are actually more comfortable.

Sadly, these days, family values are fading off, almost saleable

Lord,  give us  back those wonderful days, so beautiful  and memorable.

Armin  Dutia Motashaw

Monetarily
you people foolishly think
you can buy freedom

                   Kelly McManus