"polls" poems
See them standing on the podium of promises
Tickling us to wed them into power
As we stand under the burning sun, sweaty as ever
All ears to their flowered words of which they caress
And powdered our minds with.
They donate maggi, salt, wears and the root of all evil,
To further blind our minds and instinct.
Like goats following a hand with a palm fruit,
We chased them with high hopes to the polls,
Like Esau of old we repay their donation with our votes.
Their desires were met, now in power
At serious battle against their promises,
Our faith getting lean, our hopes bleed in response to their policies.
The opposition jubilant for the failure of the electorates.
Soon, they awoke into reality, spur to abort incumbent reign.
Some took to bombs, guns, cutlasses, few to the streets.
The opposition soldiers are thugs, always hungry to ****
The masses weapons are their mouth, placards,
And solidarity songs, they walk and sing.
They say when elephants fight the grasses suffer
I wonder who are the elephants or the grasses indeed.
A place that suppose to be our home now a battle field
Where everyone fights for self survival
Forgetting the unborn, our toddlers, our heroes past.
It is high time we talked and sack the thugs
But who will moderate
Who will faithfully give audience, who will sincerely talk?
The elite, the elected seems like they are war ready
They have well set up their political troops
A war they won't stand to fight
But escape through thinning air off our sight.
In a molding state
Pigs dare to preach sanity
In a world of questions, ignorance remain the worst cancer
And the apex poverty.
Let not fold our hands and live to die in this doom
If your lips are scared, let your pen speak.
Let not throw in the towel
Until we justfully elapse the reign of the unwanted in one peace.
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 10:09 AM UTC
**I urge that we make ourselves proud… of us
I urge that we go into and come out of these polls sober minded, responsible, uncorrupted, without ‘fight’ or ‘fuss’
Uncorrupted
I urge that a joyous feeling of an evolving nation moving forward be the only thing we can, in hindsight, say erupted… this upcoming Monday, the following Tuesday
I would like to state that a people gunning for peace in these coming days is the only topic I would like to be following in the news today
We should see what’s coming as the change of guard it is… and not as a dreaded doomsday
You may be black… I may be white, or vice versa… and that’s alright
We shouldn't even be asking ourselves “Who’s grey?”
I will vote with one heart for one country… my country
A country in which I’m confident can keep the peace, you see, we’re kind of good at this
I know this because we've had quite a bit of practice
I know this because deep down we all want to make peaceful transitions be the Kenyan way
I know, I hope… and whenever necessary, I pray
Happy voting.**
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 1:02 AM UTC
my earliest memory are clouds
whirling fans
sticky heat
a car ride
greasy fingers
pepper lollipops
sugar coated stories
telephone polls
sheep cows horses
sheep
so many sheep
the window sweat
rapid spanish
windmills
burning sun
then I saw them
they were perfect
in a meadow
puffy
soft
warm
they went on
and on
and on
i wanted to eat
sleep
bounce
STOP
i screamed
STOP
WHAT?
WHY?!
STOP.
is it a doe?
NO
is it a cat?
NO
WHAT THE HELL IS IT?
a cloud
a farm of clouds
don't you see it?
no.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 10:14 PM UTC
our lives are fraught with numbers
so many fractions of a second faster in a race
most wins on record best jury votes
highest flight deepest dive most goals
meters of rising sea levels
millions of refugees and more displaced
tens of thousands honor killings
thousands of deaths with Ebola
millions of Zika virus victims next year
billions of deficit or profit in import/export
or the stock exchange
votes in elections or for beauty queens
polls tweets virtual friends & followers
likes on the social media on hellopoetry
we have been taught to measure our status
our importance and the significance of our lives
in clicks of other peoples’ digital devices
even our time has been reduced to numbers
the digital has long replaced the comprehensive
instead of the round dial that shows 12 hours
suggesting the duration of a normal day
we have a punctual display without the whole
the cyclical has lost against the linear
0101010101010101010101010101010101
we all look forward to our numbered future
no past and very little present
our hands on smart phones homes TVs
pushing a button makes things move
swishing a screen displays the world
over all that we easily forget
that we ourselves have been reduced to numbers
of customers for businesses
of voters for the politicians
of workers for the corporations
of citizens for our nations
digital quantities we have become
and if we take a global view
we are part of the seven billion plus
that currently inhabit our earth
all of which do expect their individuality
be honored and their dignity respected
numbers don’t honor individuality
they simply count the units
items or people are for them the same
it’s left to us to find a way
that leaves the numbers in their place
yet guarantees us dignity
as individual members of the human race
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 6:19 PM UTC
let us consider
declarations of independence
as remedies
for election ills..
democracy has been
deadened
by flows of money
reaching ego ends..
competing parties mirroring
yet exaggerating differences
knowing one and all
precious power is the prize..
independence
allows consciousness to
arise at last..
good then is found
in left and right
shadow enclosing both..
paradox rules oppositions
and detachment soothes
the din of boisterous claims..
new freedom
brings new strength..
money flows
lose direction when
feedback polls confuse..
and democracy then
may deliver promise
once again...
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 5:35 PM UTC
Little Princess Perfect without a single flaw
Thought that she was perfect in every way she saw
But one day she ran into a crazy, orange man
Who said "I am better and will beat you because I know I can"
Princess perfect laughed and her court well they laughed too
"You cannot win against me and my loyal crew!"
Little Princess Perfect and the man with funny hair
Got into a contest that seemed far from fair.
Princess Perfect with her legions of subjects said
"You're a sexist bigot and have an orange head!"
So the man replied to her face "And you're a crooked cuck!"
"You're also sick and greedy you lying, corporate schmuck!"
Little Princess Perfect who thought she'd already won
Laughed and played and called him names while he continued to run
"I will make this kingdom great once again I vow!"
And multitudes applauded him as he took a bow.
"You're all deplorable!" Princess Perfect cried
"How can you sleep at night taking this orange faced man's side?"
"Princess Perfect your days are numbered." he said in return
"People want this kingdom great. That's for what they yearn"
"People will never choose you!" Princess Perfect said
"Look at the polls you orange **** You're as good as dead!"
And all her court agreed she had already won
So laugh and play they did having unending fun.
Then when the day came to decide the combatant's fate
Princess Perfect with her court could hardly stand to wait.
"Get ready to celebrate my loyal, faithful fans!"
Princess perfect cried to all throughout the land.
And as the kingdom came together and began to count the votes
Princess Perfect felt a lump deep in her throat.
"What the hell is happening?" She cried to her staff.
The totals made no sense to her and all had ceased to laugh
"This is impossible! He's pulling way ahead!"
Princess Perfect panicked and her soul filled with dread
"I am Princess Perfect! I know I cannot lose!"
But the kingdom voted and the crazy orange man they did choose.
Nov 20, 2016
Nov 20, 2016 at 12:44 AM UTC
birds are made of trees
where do they hide from me
whispering wishes of insecurity
casting around like a clown
becoming somebody
holding
false dreams
no witness
I need jeans
that have some pockets
deep enough to stuff
my wallet
full of envy and greed
hundred dollars in the hole
knowledge from believing I can finally leave
sunkissed absence marking my feet
sore and tender
shoes of soul
legs shaking
arms quaking
mind racing
bruised breast
disguised wrists
deep from the core
sliced and discarded
nothing more
sore spine
open flesh
juicy and ripe
no milk in sight
feelings are lies
logic
bones
fingertips
telephone polls
and spiderwebs
splinters in my eyes
where is all of this going
who is it meant for
explore me
if you please
forced jaw
broke open
dry tongue
memories
do you miss me
Jun 5, 2019
Jun 5, 2019 at 3:32 PM UTC
When
cheaters and liars
rise to the top of the polls
When genocidal speech
wanna be torturers
let their goals unfold
advocating killing relatives
Something every drug lord knows
When words don't mean anything
Images are everything
When words and images disconnect
When words don't work
It's what we call psychosis
in the psych biz
We're all thinking
That can't happen here
A cousin they call Germany
Refined
Civilized
Educated
Defined art
Music
Ethics
Found out exactly what every **** head
knows when you go too far
There's gonna be advanced window patrol
Getting out the duct tape
Wrapping up the house
Can't let any light
in or out
You may end up in leather restraints
On a plastic sheet on a metal bed
America better call the crisis hotline
Stand in line for same day services
5150/Legal 2000/72 hour commitment
Being a danger to self and others
Rapidly becoming gravely disabled
Hold on, I'll write that Hold now
Bring out the atypicals
Risperdal Zyprexa Serequil
Take an Ativan
Take a Zanax
**** it take a ******
If you don't come back down now
Find the ground
You'll be okay
In a decade or three
The suffering of course
Will be burns in the third degree
Psychosis can be unkind
All civilizations have their day
Incline
Recline
Decline
It can't happen here?
Chaotic brutality knocking on the door
You gotta know what's in store
We need an intervention
Breathe it back on in
It can still be okay
Reality check
Words sometimes mean something
And people sometimes mean what they say
And though
Images dissolve
Evolve
Fracture and split
Those that are seeing and hearing
What's going on
are holding their breath
Wondering how crazy it's really all gonna get.
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 10:30 PM UTC
.
O
•i found truth
in a saying i read•that we
start dying the day we were born
•not from life inflicted wounds from
which we've bled•not from illness or
disease that would have us torn •we
only live and breathe upon borrowed
sand•because we age; because we are
but mortal•it's only up to ourselves to
be mediocre or grand• what we'll be at
the end is consequential• it'll matter not
if we won popularity polls• or what riches
over which we covet and fuss•when asked, *"for
whom does the bell toll?"*•look in the mirror for it tolls
••••••••
•••••
for no one...
but for us•
.
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 10:21 AM UTC
my head is
a vacant lot
loaded with automatic cars
idling in a polluted environment
full of bidding corporations
run by empty businessman
who take advantage
of a selfish inward populace
that raise violent children
who turn off their minds to the madness, cruelty
and cultural void at the local nightclub
called "Numb" or " E-tarded"
and slobbering over drinks and beats
like the sounds of horns
from a traffic jam
driven by impatient animals
in a sheepfold bawing
their way to the nearest vaccination center
for thier imaginary twinrix dose of
swine ***** and orange juice
that skyrocket diabetes rates above google hits
and fat conservative voter polls
broadcasted daily by popular media botox injections
that styme creativity
with the same ****** music
played over and over and over
like the broken recorded rhetoric
that tell us to destructively reach out
to foreign countries
while selling ourselves out for better cars
but increase profits and taxes
at the same rate of the rising prison population
and shrinking contributions
to health care , edU-caTion , community and environment
all the while you can hear the sheep bleat and beep and bleat and beep
Feb 27, 2010
Feb 27, 2010 at 7:06 PM UTC
the world’s so unpredictable
so different, difficult and uncomfortable often
that I wish everyone were like me
just like me, or better still, exactly like me…
you’ll see, this is the only solution, logically –
beyond the shadow of a doubt, as many are inclined to say,
which expression in itself I find so inconvenient …
you see
because you and you and you are not like me
it all becomes such a waste
with all the negotiation and adjustments
and time spent and funds depleted
in persuasion and information campaigns
but just imagine:
if everybody were like me
and I had to attend a meeting
and of course everybody had to attend the meeting
how convenient and efficient and quick that would be
cos it’s all just
me, me, me and me
and yet more me, me, me, me and me…
Indeed need we hold meetings at all?
since it’s all me? Just me?
Cos if you are me, and everyone else is me
in my Brave New Me World,
all me know what each me thinks
and wants, than we need not meet me
and one me wherever one is can initiate,
conduct and finish the me meeting…
You get me?
and think of it on a national scale too…
if everyone were like me,
exactly like me –
so that all we have is
me, me, me and me
and yet more me, me, me, me –
imagine the nation in all its simplicity and convenience;
there’d be no need to argue with me
because me agrees with me
and me is one religion, me is one will, one thought,
one language (gibberish, but still one language)
and everything in the nation
will just have to be planned for me.
Simple:
satisfy me and satisfy all
for it’s all me…
for me is the Nation
I leave it to you
to think more of this Me Nation
(or do you need some animation?)
And that silly United Nations -
do you think if everyone were like me
or better still exactly like me,
do we need to have all these delegates and dignitaries flying around
(and sometimes shoes flying too)
and eating half the UN funds in dinners and perks and sightseeing?
Oh, think about it –
if everyone were like me
just as in the Me Nation
you won’t have all this waste in Me UN…
You don’t even need the UN;
just Me is enough
the Me UN…
And what about the world?
have you thought about it?
with me all over the world
and if everyone in the world
were me, me, me, and me and me –
you know, a Chinese me, and an Indian me,
an American me, a Russian me
black me, white me, Christian me, Muslim me, Hindu me,
or atheist me - whatever me is, all is -
and so on
native me and foreign me
just me, me , me, me, me
(Oh, I just love this me!)
everywhere me
and then if I were the President of the world
which I will surely be
cos every me will choose me
cos everyone will want me to be the President
and with President Me
no one will disagree
and there’s no waste
and the word will be so pleasant –
cos I’m no *********
(will me want to hurt me?)
And everything will be so easily arranged
and every me will be in a happy world society
as me is the best me to become every me
One me will be the same as me
and me happy is all happy
And President Me need not worry about
Opinion Polls and votes and what the people want
and President Me need not give lies
and Me People need not listen to ****
cos it’s all just me,
me, and me -
and as if I don’t know what I think,
and what I want, and as if I’d want to kick my own ****
and so it’ll be a Presidency where everyone will be happy
because all things are made for me and planned the way for me
and it’ll be a perpetual everlasting Presidency
for with everyone like me, everyone being me
it’ll be always me coming
new generations or old or dying or single moms and dads
always
me, me, me and more and more me, me, me, me
for perpetuity
and so how about you, what do you think?
Wouldn’t it be all more efficient
and the world a better place
if everyone were like me?
No, no…I don’t mean like you!
Not like you, but like me, me, me,
me, me, me, me…
What do me think?
But since you are like me, you are me
I don’t need to know what you think
Me no need to know what me thinks…
Oct 9, 2010
Oct 9, 2010 at 7:19 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Uncle Ben
Ain’t gonna win
But white folks continue
To humor him
He’s now ahead
In all the polls
Like others before him
Who’ve sold their souls
Uncle Ben
Had a violent past
He’d have us believe
That he’s cured at last
But the media said
Not so fast
No one remembers him
As a **** alas
Uncle Ben
Was good with his hands
And could do all the things
That intricate surgery demands
But the dark side
That he's tried to project
No one can remember
And so he's suspect
Uncle Ben
As a matter of fact
Hasn't a rabbit's *** idea
How to reach fellow blacks
Let me give him a hint
Not with a rap that is wack
Because all that demonstrates
Is that he lacks tact
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved.
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 7:26 PM UTC
I regret (usually too late), the authority
Of the sitting government.
Any government.
Once in power (I regret that word)
The back room broking good ole boys
At the exit polls loose their senses,
Sight and hearing.
Feelings get hurt.
Taxes are wasted.
The trough gouging is too loud.
I resent lying.
I regret (mostly from the evidence),
The too full baskets of organized religion
Overflowing from indulgences;
The Roman fingers
Poaching coins for another memorial window;
The glass cathedrals
And get-a-way cars.
I resent hypocrisy.
I regret people don't arrive on time
(no matter the time);
Especially when outside anyplace waiting,
Perhaps a light for a smoke is needed,
Or there's inclement weather,
The nearby company is distasteful.
Waiting dinner.
Late children are the worse.
They cause worry.
I resent the selfishness of time.
I regret being diseased,
And hated for it.
When in remission I'm loved.
Active, not so much.
The know-its say it's a matter of will.
Like you can cure
Cancer or smallpox with thoughts.
The one symptom alone, hurt,
Would need temples of meditating chanters!
I resent condemnation.
I regret failed relationships:
Family, friends and women.
My thoughts are mine;
If I said everything
You'd have a different opinion
Of what I am.
So we don't
Because we can't
Say things: we would appear as socio-paths.
We think good and bad;
Therefore we're real.
A virtual humanity.
I resent blathering.
I regret an educational system
That believes in paradigm shifts;
Spouting new-age lingo:
If it's not broken, break it;
Selling out to athletics,
Or Mr., Ms and Mrs. know
All about education;
They went to school.
Bullies top the list.
I resent permissive parents.
Most of all,
I regret
My resentments.
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 12:44 AM UTC
Strippers blown out of moving caravans of pornographic stature
Lesbians terrifyingly terrify each other to pieces in the back seat
Of a vintage Camero built for speed and automobile crashes
Blood red runs off black lightening sunshine
Telephone polls and graveyard ditches
Can you handle this the raving seductress asks
No problem with the foot on the floor
Driving west
High on scorpion **** and speed
Fire fighters are ravenous breed
Barb-wired writers are blasphemous breed
Chasing antique dreams towards the sunset
Off lost in the Desert Mountains
Thirst for quench and moonshine howls
LA is a happening place
**
Axes
Axles
Axed
**
Sep 16, 2011
Sep 16, 2011 at 6:52 PM UTC
The desperate scramble to
rationalise; the burning need
to make sense of the
nonsensical, this
all-too-earnest search for
answers, for some guidestone
that will help us decipher
the craziness scrawled on the walls,
a key that might unlock that door
which currently bars the path to
sanity and reason.
We put polls in the field,
conduct surveys, devise
better, more probing questionnaires,
consult eminent
psychologists, sociologists, economists,
go blind on data
tabulated into every conceivable form,
cite studies, historical precedent,
strive for any, any answers
that will explain to us
how we came to
this.
And maybe the reason is
less complex.
Maybe
we got what we
deserved.
Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 4:28 AM UTC
All who claim to be number one
First planet from the Sun
TrumPets blaring
smell well done
Stroll polls meter thermal agitation
while he gathered fever from the ***
Undermine with every line
It's what works
It's been fun
The Mercurial Man has come
Meanwhile I'm all Berned up
in this presidential run.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 8:47 PM UTC
Our future would be nicer
If he wasn't such a liar
At least could play the role
And be less politician
And less a bad magician
If he only had a soul.
He’s drunk with his power
Which is growing by the hour
He’s really on a roll.
He believes he is king
And we don’t mean a thing
Because he has no soul.
He has voters he can step on
Now we’ve given him a weapon
It was obvious in the polls
So many to ****
Destroying them at will
Like a creature with no soul.
Now his approval is sagging
His supporters are gagging
As they try swallowing him whole.
He’s sure none can top him
And no one can stop him
Because he has no soul.
He won’t be satisfied
’Till all Democrats have died
Or get by shoveling coal.
We’d appeal to his heart
If he had one at the start
And if he only had a soul.
Jan 31, 2017
Jan 31, 2017 at 2:40 PM UTC
Woke up to the same different changed America
I spent the night before at "Post No Bills"
A local bar
Watching the election results like it was a football game
New casters pointing to red and blue states
Making news out of the obvious
Texas went red, theres a fuckin' surprise
The girl on the stool next to me says if Romney wins she's moving to another country
Sure you are..drunk girl at a bar..
Everyone from my building, the 286ians
Were in attendance for the gala
"And a round of shots for my good friends", I told Mustang Sally, our bartender
I continued, "Cause if Obama wins were getting ****** up tonight and if Romney wins were ******
Boisterous laughter like osmosis
Fills the room from left to right
Another 286ian walks in
"Heyyyyy!!!!" said everyone in the bar
The election was a close one
With 11 more minutes until the polls close
I closed my tab
Put on my borrowed scarf was out the door like Flint on opposite day
Pockets were empty
But no complaint
I look at the bar as buying smiles
As I walked home, belly warm
I hear cheer
Obama must have won
Who wants a beer?
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 2:49 PM UTC
There's a penny for every sob story,
and a dime for every winner.
A dollar for the tax collector,
and Benjamin pays himself.
But you, my friend, are forgiven,
forget toil and bore;
where you lounge on laurels,
others hunger for more.
There's nonsense in fiction,
truth in law.
But law guarding fiction:
the beast's toothy maw.
You write the laws, my friend,
you are the fiction and truth,
you are the red hand,
you are the beast's jagged tooth.
On and on, the mercy rolls
Are you winning?
Check the polls!
Is it fiction?
No one knows,
but the crown drapes from your head,
to your toes.
Life worms its way into your moth holes...
99 problems; 101 dalmations: you do the math.
You plug the holes with your fingers;
end up with no hands to stop the flood.
That empty feeling lingers,
so does the blood.
Everything's shot to cheese,
but the truth isn't cheesy.
You beg for no mercy,
but you don't say please.
In the end, there's no mention
of how you were spared.
Dare to infract again,
only devils have dared.
Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 7:30 PM UTC
Sing a song of slick men
Pocket full of lies.
Four and twenty fat cats
Terribly unwise.
When the truth was spoken
They don’t even try.
They’re immune to reason
And they get all the pie.
Sing a song of no sense
And how they persevere
How they get elected
Year after year
Still they have no scruples;
Ethically impure,
They still win out in the polls.
Why is still unclear.
We should build a big fence
And lock them all inside.
Then impound their fortunes
Wherever they hide.
Let them see for sure how
Crooks we can’t abide.
See if they can stand each other
Living side by side.
Sing a song of statesmanship
Nearly gone extinct
Senators and gangsters
Not so distinct.
The rich still had their millions
We lost the kitchen sink.
Brought us all to near defeat
And pushed us near the brink.
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 8:20 PM UTC
It started with a devious question
And the answer was clear
To all
But a curious faction
Fueled by fear,
With the means to concoct
An Orwellian plot
That rendered hate normal,
Like bible study.
Let the Right say, 'Amen'.
"She should be in jail," said
A lady in the deli
With a red cap
And matching tee.
Her eyes spewed fire;
Mine stayed on the menu.
Bypassing the bologna,
I ordered turkey on rye,
To Go.
I had a revolution to catch.
One I'd missed like the polls
On Election Eve.
Dylan shot nine,
Dead.
Sparing one to spread the news
And start a race riot
Before Obama takes away our guns.
Then Vladimir bombed
A city Gary didn't know
But no one asked Don.
"I like you," said one tyrant
To another.
"But I despise Fidel, CNN and ObamaCare.
They are all dead to me."
We heard the lie.
Of the grand Muslim celebration in Jersey
After the towers fell.
And a million more.
Yet the tide of deaf ears kept growing,
Engulfing US in a tsunami
Of pussy-grabbing misogyny
That made Bill blush
And gave Hill another shocking traumatic defeat.
Women from Times Square
To Tokyo rained on his parade
And a speech spawned in 7th grade
Earned an A on FOX
And a wet sticker
Everywhere else.
Let the world say, "Impeach Him!"
~ P
#LyricalAssassination
01/21/2017
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 3:21 PM UTC
Before the UK Election
Those Tory Trolls slagged off
The Labour Leader
Jeremy Corbyn
Unmercifully –
Dredging up his distant past,
Turning his heroic quest for Peace in Northern Ireland
Into an act of alleged “treason”
And much more.
They painted a grim grey scene.
But like King Arthur and his gallant knights,
Corbyn unsheathed his own Excalibur:
That mighty thing called “Hope”.
He offered us all a brighter future,
Except perhaps for the greedy rich,
To sweep through the enemy ranks
Upon his horse, “Momentum”.
Once more to the breach…
And as the opinion polls swing
More and more in his favour,
Victory for Labour
Is only a matter of time.
Paul Butters
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 9:28 AM UTC
You go strains of mad when...
...Ambition becomes Eating Your Own Hunger Pains
With savaged pride you feel that all you need to achieve in life
Can be done faster with gold and good courtship
You croon apologies to your ideas and hope they stay.
They don't stay.
You go strains of mad when...
...Demonic intercession is hailed as miracle
You pay your division of a vast tithe into coffers you never see
and watch with shame and awe at a penetrative truth
working noisily behind curtains.
This polls well.
You go strains of mad when...
...Dust and diamonds are sold as combi-packs,
**** comes in boxes of strict six; for illustrative purposes, if you want four you've got to sell or discard two for your reputation.
There's no loyalty card or price-break on bulk.
I'm flat broke.
You go strains of mad when...
...A nobody sketches you with disarming accuracy
Their medium is a third hand snipe relayed with bitter remove
No more the taut nymphette lounged aground, on the rocks
The naked crystal uniform of your debtless regime, gone.
You're a shirt and name-tag girl now.
You go strains of mad when...
...Pockets burst outside the Church yard sale
The Ministry guilts you into buying all the furniture and music
moving it one piece at a time into your life until
suddenly you have a Church to burn
Just in time for winter.
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 8:30 AM UTC