"probable" poems
O Distinct
Lady of my unkempt adoration
if I have made
a fragile curtain
song under the window of your soul
it is not like any songs
(the singers the others
they have been faithful
to many things and which
die
i have been sometimes true
to Nothing and which lives
they were fond of the handsome
moon never spoke ill of the
pretty stars and to
the serene the complicated
and the obvious
they were faithful
and which i despise,
frankly
admitting i have been true
only to the noise of worms
in the eligible day
under the unaccountable sun)
Distinct Lady
swiftly take
my fragile certain song
that we may watch together
how behind the doomed
exact smile of life’s
placid obscure palpable
carnival where to a normal
melody of probable violins dance
the square virtues with the oblong sins
perfectly
gesticulate the accurate
strenuous lips of incorruptible
Nothing under the ample
sun, under the insufficient
day under the noise of worms
11.8k
Radness
The Philosopher’s Stone is not just a spiritual metaphor but an actual substance that can transmute lead or mercury into gold. The Stone is a product of Alchemy. Unlike chemistry, which only deals with physical matter and energy, Alchemy makes use of etheric and astral energies to reconfigure matter at the quantum level. Alchemy is to chemistry what a cube is to the square; it is a superset of chemistry and is capable of so much more.
How Etheric Energy Overrides Physical Laws
Alchemical achievements require successfully gathering, concentrating, and multiplying etheric energy. When this energy reaches a critical threshold, it overpowers the normal laws of physics and allows seemingly miraculous processes to take place. I believe it does this by biasing probability. By amplifying the probability of minor quantum effects, which are normally limited to the subatomic scale, they manifest on the larger atomic scale. In this way, one element spontaneously transforms into another.
The world around us is made of subatomic particles that regularly undergo unpredictable jumps, teleportation, bilocation, superposition, and other strange quantum behaviors. Why don’t everyday solid objects do likewise? Because the random quantum jittering of their subatomic particles collectively average out to zero. Think of a large crowd of people; seen from the air, the crowd as a whole is stationary, even though individuals within the crowd move in seemingly random directions. It’s because their movements are random and uncoordinated that they average to zero net movement on the whole.
The world we see around us is merely a crowd of subatomic particles whose individual quantum jumps aren’t apparent because they average to collective stillness. Physical laws that govern our everyday world, known as the deterministic laws of classical physics, are merely the laws of the crowd. These laws are what’s left of quantum physics after the unpredictability is removed through statistical averaging. They are not absolute laws; they are just the most probable manner in which matter and energy behave.
Physical laws can be bent. While the probability is incredibly low that enough coordination and coherence develops among the quantum jitters to manifest on a collective scale, that is exactly what etheric energy does. It alters probability and thereby skews the laws of thermodynamics, gravity, electromagnetism, and chemistry.
Alchemy does not violate the laws of physics, nor does it always follow them, rather it bends them as needed. It operates upon the quantum foundation from which these laws arise in the first place, via etheric energy affecting the probability of quantum events.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 8:59 PM UTC
The power of Averages,
it means a lot
if you can
understand Means, a lot.
Assuming a Normal Distribution,
A Standard Deviation, or σ
defines where about 68% of the data falls;
roughly 34% above and below the Mean.
Two Standard Deviations
defines where a further 28% of data lies;
14% above and below 1σ and -1σ.
Positive 1-Sigma is one Standard Deviation above the Mean
Negative 1-Sigma is one below;
The range from -2σ to 2σ includes 96% of data.
The implications are astounding.
Within 3 Standard Deviations, one finds 99.7% of the data;
Within 4σ, 99.9%, 5σ, 99.999%,
the remainder are generally outliers and other improbable results.
To illustrate:
Suppose we had a group of 100 people,
and we wish to determine average height:
If our Mean height ends up being, say, 180 cm,
with a Standard Deviation of 20cm,
We can suppose that of 100 people, on average,
with a certain Margin of Error that is inversely proportionate to our Sample Size, or n
(for sake of argument, the Probable Error, or γ, is 13.49cm)
4 are taller than 220cm
14 are between 200cm and 220cm
68 are between 160cm and 200cm
14 are from 140cm to 160cm
4 are shorter than 140cm
--
Statistics is the parent of Probability;
Statistics is the Art and Science of Forecast,
Statistics paves the way for modern Science
Statistics is a powerful weapon in the fight against Ignorance
Statistics, however, are generally and intentionally misrepresented and thus misunderstood.
For increasingly accurate figures,
one must have a larger Sample Size
and a Sample group that is a representative subgroup
of the Whole
*This is intentionally abused
by most of the News
you read or see each day on Paper and Screens alike.*
If a "Statistical analysis" does not include at least
Margin of Error or Probable Error,
Mean (Average), Standard Deviation, and Sample Size
do not take it as accurate.
Depending on the source,
it could even be deliberately malicious.
Arm yourself with Knowledge.
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 6:14 PM UTC
i was born all naturally
formed in a lax factory
im actually
a hack with ******* in my nose, practically,
every day, haphazardly
stumbling home, half asleep
i cant tell whats happening
vision begins blackening
im whack like kriss kross
crack like rick ross
major brown boy to houston
be like, "yes, we have liftoff"
dont like me when i'm ****** off
cause ***** i'm bruce banner
or maybe i'm bruce wayne
either way, i got mad manners
tearing down walls like berlin
preaching like its a sermon
potential begins to burgeon
i'll cut you up like a surgeon
killing in place of coercion
so you better lower the curtain
my head and my body are hurtin
so tell me how quick does the world spin?
i'm taddling on ya, you can call me a toddler
but the snitchin n' **** is somethin im never fond of
and i never grow up, cause i'm the neverland smuggler
peter pan turns into one of my best customers
i never grew into my head, im not cocky
never had the eye of the tiger, im not rocky
growing up i never got in fights or caused a lotta ****
but presently im screaming **** the world", i've got a bone to pick
i've gotta problem and i think its the probable cause
you hold me captive, keep me trapped in your facets of laws
looks of repulsion are what cause me to brandish my claws
constant compulsions reminiscent of prodigal flaws
i've gotta problem and i think its the probable cause
see im a goblin shark i'll sink in my nautical jaws
im not a joker im a jester with lesser facades
wrought with insomnia cause drugs are american gods
Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 1:39 AM UTC
The poet Phernazis is composing
the important part of his epic poem.
How Darius, son of Hystaspes,
assumed the kingdom of the Persians. (From him
is descended our glorious king
Mithridates, Dionysus and Eupator). But here
philosophy is needed; he must analyze
the sentiments that Darius must have had:
maybe arrogance and drunkenness; but no -- rather
like an understanding of the vanity of grandeurs.
The poet contemplates the matter deeply.
But he is interrupted by his servant who enters
running, and announces the portendous news.
The war with the Romans has begun.
The bulk of our army has crossed the borders.
The poet is speechless. What a disaster!
No time now for our glorious king
Mithridates, Dionysus and Eupator,
to occupy himself with greek poems.
In the midst of a war -- imagine, greek poems.
Phernazis is impatient. Misfortune!
Just when he was positive that with "Darius"
he would distinguish himself, and shut the mouths
of his critics, the envious ones, for good.
What a delay, what a delay to his plans.
And if it were only a delay, it would still be all right.
But it yet remains to be seen if we have any security
at Amisus. It is not a strongly fortified city.
The Romans are the most horrible enemies.
Can we hold against them
we Cappadocians? It is possible at all?
It is possible to pit ourselves against the legions?
Mighty Gods, protectors of Asia, help us.--
But in all his turmoil and trouble,
the poetic idea too comes and goes persistently--
the most probable, surely, is arrogance and drunkenness;
Darius must have felt arrogance and drunkenness.
5k
Because you never yet have loved me, dear,
Think you you never can nor ever will?
Surely while life remains hope lingers still,
Hope the last blossom of life's dying year.
Because the season and mine age grow sere,
Shall never Spring bring forth her daffodil,
Shall never sweeter Summer feast her fill
Of roses with the nightingales they hear?
If you had loved me, I not loving you,
If you had urged me with the tender plea
Of what our unknown years to come might do
(Eternal years, if Time should count too few),
I would have owned the point you pressed on me,
Was possible, or probable, or true.
4.5k
don't understand me. this is not for you. It's for you.
my Gemini shin splints are pirates. hopeless Romans, romantically dismantling
the things you Undo. the things you You.
I Doctor in your Seuss canal.
with a frontal lobe, more Job
than a postage stamp -
in this Day and Age.
It's grey and rage -
with the tooth torn
out !
Out
through the probable snout
of the next mummified god-king
of our interlocking rot...
our chamber pots
spotting the oft begot good
of our evil
Mummenschanz
we are crepes' rue; yet we roulette best
in Typhoons
from murk
placid.
with 2.8 kids
and damp
matches.
we are
struck in a gale
of flaccid
dumb as a Belle of the Ball
that Squares
a Rube
with an Ism.... from Ix.
sometimes.
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 8:38 PM UTC
*Bouncy, swirly, colors see me.
Bouncy, swirly, colors see me.
Bouncy, swirly, colors see me.*
Depression of Science
Believe in possible
achieve the probable
accept the inevitable
laws are boundaries..
*Oh, those sprinkle's shards
they hug the lamplight so?*
Possible, they believe me
Laws, condor, deceiving...
Fate enviable acceptance
-evening
Akha, Okto, Echo, Eight-
*Bouncy, swirly, colors see me.
Bouncy, swirly, colors see me.
Bouncy, swirly, colors see me.*
Was it one or eight?
I
ate
One
then
Eight?
118
1118
1118
11118
111118
8
**Shhhh...you hear that?
...there's something in the closet...**
it's like a
ant on crack
a ant on
Crack
it's like a
ant on crack
a ant on
ANT ON CRACK
nano,
-Crack
it's like a
ant on crack
ANT ON CRACK
ant on
Crack
ant on
Crack
ant on
Crack
ant on
Crack
it's like a
ANT ON CRACK
..fingertips in heaven
Heaven's a construct,
by a carpenter and a drywaller....
and a painter...
Controlled by
Home's Despotism
*Bouncy, swirly, colors see me.
Bouncy, swirly, colors see me.
Bouncy, swirly, colors see me.*
*Bouncy, swirly, colors see me.
Bouncy, swirly, colors see me.
Bouncy, swirly, colors see me.*
*Bouncy, swirly, colors see me.
Bouncy, swirly, colors see me.
Bouncy, swirly, colors see me.*
it's like a
* ANT ON CRACK *
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 8:16 PM UTC
am I you
what am I without you
its not your fault
don’t cry for me
don’t confuse me
I love you
don’t leave me
don’t have *** like it's
nothing
don’t look at her naked body
with the same eyes that you
looked upon mine
don’t let me breathe a life saving breath
while you’re
in
her
let me wallow in saturated agony
let me be in pain
let me feel the extent of my own emotions
and eventually
for a bee that carries three times its weight isn’t meant to last
let me go into that valley of death
that idyll
that probable hell
where I may but suffer the more,
take me there.
give me a smallest crumb more
let me lick your fingers
I must see if I could still summon that sweet syrup love
that burns as it exits
my bellybutton
let it then lapse away
so I may forget
and when he finds his way
back to my dirt trail I'll never stop walking
I will pick him up and nourish his soul with my own
so his stomach fills
and he is more whole
and I am more hole
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 5:13 PM UTC
you hold me with a grasp that aches to let go
that hates that I let it know that i’m leaving
Your arms begin grieving
Refusing to let go of this fleeting
Moment
The energy you surround me with
so potent
So intense
The kind that gives one notions
The kind that causes me to question every motion
I make
Every romantic idea I create
a facade
So intense
With little motion
And the sense
Of calm
You yawn
I gaze at your slumber
and my fawn hands caress your umber burnt skin
and i begin to listen,
to your heartbeat at its proper pace
as my aching heart mimics it, they begin to race
my eyes dance around your face
As you pull me deeper into your embrace
You hold me
as your snores begin to scold me
you unfold me
i become open to you
as i review ever subtle movement
my body soothes when
you hold me,
how I refuse to hold myself.
i whisper very boldly
to myself, i love you
but only discreetly
while you’re sleeping
because only while we’re dreaming
does this all feel so possible
does this type of love
and sensuality
and affection
feel probable
so i lay
and i wait
for you to awake
i wait in this space
for you to gently place
your lips on my forehead
for your warm embrace.
for clothes to replace
your warm embrace in its stead
for our little visit
to come to an end.
you release me with that grasp that aches to let go
that hates that, I let it know that i have to leave it
Your arms begin grieving me
the romanticism begins fleeting me
i reach over to kiss you
one more time
and in turn you reply
“i love you”
my heart did not know what to say
or what to do
it could not take any less of you
only anymore
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 6:49 PM UTC
I can't have these feelings but I do,
And unfortunately it's for both of you.
Although, technically it's the same objective,
The situations come from opposing perspectives.
I feel everything I can imagine possible,
But the ending result is nothing probable.
My soul feels empty, echoing deep,
And now all I'm begging for is answers, or sleep
Whatever comes first and lasts the longest,
Whichever has effects that work the strongest:
My poisons won't save me this time,
No, with this one the responsibility is mine.
And I'm sorry if my pain hurts you so,
But i swear it's not your fault, I know:
I did this to myself, now must face my own demons,
Alone I must fight until I discover the reasons.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 1:12 AM UTC
Forever is never mine
nor yours
Not even ours
For long is much more probable
Although ends are inevitable
Yet the chase is impeccable
So, shall we try?
Feb 23, 2025
Feb 23, 2025 at 6:47 AM UTC
Perfection makes this day
Polite expressionless faces
Rich and luxurious, they pray
Rationally irritating, that passes.
Perfection is I, quoth he
Pretty pointless faces, I say
Reasonably intelligent friends, said he
Rather boring folk do they convey.
Perfection is ******** I utter
Probable mix-up, they record
Realize the beauty! I order
Render it proper on my own accord.
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 1:42 AM UTC
I have let my nails grow some
they are well over the tips of my fingers,
i’d say considerably long.
noticeable is their length as i text smilies
type similes. sincerely, i am apologizing now
and well in advance for any future scratches,
scrapes, welts. any body mods. highly probable are scars to your skin too,
later revealing themselves, after a bath like a photograph
being developed. i dig deep in the heat of-brushing, my lips
will serve as nurse, medicinal in purpose.
so there is no need to worry.
Nov 10, 2011
Nov 10, 2011 at 5:04 PM UTC
My friend asks, “Do you never get tired of your sadness?”
I do.
Everyday is a battle I face, struggling to keep myself alive, trying to find reasons to not **** myself but all I can find are reasons why I’m better off dead.
She says, “Why don’t you try doing things that makes you happy?”
I wish it was that easy to do the things I enjoy (read: used to enjoy) doing but it’s hard when you can’t even get yourself out of the bed in the morning, wishing you would just stop existing instead because that seems like the only probable solution to your problem.
It’s hard to be happy when you’re being constantly reminded just how much of a **** you are, all the negative thoughts eating you alive. The feeling of emptiness clawing its way through your throat and making its presence known but god knows you don’t want it — never even asked for it in the first place.
I’m tired of being sad all the time. I’m tired of always being tired, locking myself in my room and withdrawing myself from any forms of social interaction because the thing is I don’t have enough energy to talk to anyone today, please leave me alone.
These days I’ve been feeling numb. I try to do things to make myself feel something — or anything at all, but all that I am is numb and empty. It’s like nothing will ever bring me happiness or sorrow. I feel like there’s nothing that will ever make me feel something again.
My friend says, “You know I’m here for you, right?” but she never remembers to check up on me on days I feel like darkness is the only thing to keep me company, the weight of living taking its toll on me. She never remembers to ask me how I’m doing on days where I feel like death is the only solution to my depression.
It’s hard to stay alive when you can’t seem to find any reasons to live at all.
—l.a.
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 6:29 AM UTC
It's funny
You eye an enemy
And see what?
Just a person you hate
Isn't that funny?
You don't recognize them as another
You hate from a distance or in their face
It's funny.
They may not even understand why.
To them you're a random person
Coming to them with anger and hate.
It's kind of funny...
They probable see you as the villain.
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 1:28 PM UTC
the complicated patterns here
that i've drawn into the snow
feel like a labyrinth
look like a puzzle
and i'm trying to find the answer
before the pieces melt away
and even though i know i have the time
this cold will stay, it's only december
i still feel like the moon's hands
are ticking, beckoning me
forward, telling a story
where i speed through the next few months
and arrive at that fork in the road
the numbers don't add up
there is too much here
too many words, too many pauses
too many buried feelings
and possible causes
of probable scenes that play out
in my head
and the figures just don't work
pencil after pencil
lead, graphite and ink
crumpled paper, metaphoric cinders
and this is when i realize
i have never been good at math
and now it's finally catching up to me
as i try to add
you and me
together
and the equation just doesn't work out
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 8:16 PM UTC
it's not a problem when there's nothing to sweat,
the humidity between your fingers only exists if you let it.
disconnection from socialization is nothing immoral, more than anything, it's probable.
no eye contact at uncomfortably long red-lights,
don't try to discuss the compartimentalizing in the back of your head.
you are a molecule.
molecules are small,
you are small.
on second thought, think more about what i couldn't stand in the world
than what i would change.
consider the opportunity and bottle enthusiasm like it's a commodity.
segregate mind
from
self.
seperate syllables, content, and over-accumilation.
inside, i would never expect you to work your own way out.
and again, i spat out black, fine lined ********
there was no more than the predetermined depth that they've come to expect from me,
i went no further than to soak my readers, then force them out still wet:
go ahead,
drip-dry from my dignity.
it's like the fire they insisted deserves to be cradled in a cage.
because freedom is threat:
consuming until she bursts into a sheet of liquidated decision.
but there is still room for appreciation:
for the consistency of
light, warmth and relativity.
swallow back a mouthful of something i cannot pronounce.
what does it matter if losing sleep makes you feel ten,
the lie is still that you're twenty-seven.
but what drove through,
down,
enough to come out the other side, is still being ignored.
my loyalty proved as a stunt in the precious growth you claim i lacked.
just when it became lyrical the reality becomes increasingly evident,
no woman needs poetry about the sun, or the starving lions out back.
so just let me burn in the grass.
because it'd only be wasting my time,
airing out.
it's your pope's, not my prophecy that doesn't believe
in the gravity you say
forced you to
fall
into
me.
one day you'll laugh.
one day i'll stop getting lost when i drive to new places.
one day the water will stop running from our taps.
i'm sure you realize i sexualized you,
like the young thing i am.
i should apologize,
but i'm also pretty sure you don't mind.
rewind: you'll go to waste like fine wine, and i'll drive you home over the phone.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 9:12 PM UTC
the theory of entropy
A doctrine of inevitable social decline and degeneration.
or
A single toss of a fair coin has an entropy of one bit. A series of two fair coin tosses has an entropy of two bits. The number of fair coin tosses is its entropy in bits. This random selection between two outcomes in a sequence over time, whether the outcomes are equally probable or not, is often referred to as a Bernoulli process. The entropy of such a process is given by the binary entropy function. The entropy rate for a fair coin toss is one bit per toss. However, if the coin is not fair, then the uncertainty, and hence the entropy rate, is lower. This is because, if asked to predict the next outcome, we could choose the most frequent result and be right more often than wrong. The difference between what we know, or predict, and the information that the unfair coin toss reveals to us is less than one heads-or-tails "message",
or bit, per toss.[5]
~~~~~
**one bit per toss
one love per life
over time we entropy,
degrade our physic,
even our heart~need,
tho ever burning,
gives off less heat,
as the candle aged-consumed,
the eighth day canister of love oil,
the sole remainder,
slow level diminishes.
we keep on tossing the coin,
and with every failed love,
the need, entropies, declines,
the coin is worn down,
making tails-you-lose
the greater probability.
but then all it probably takes,
just another toss,
and bit you are
by the coin of the realm
that-once-discovered,
from her, this realm,
this woman,
you will never leave,
nor coin-toss ever again*
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 10:55 AM UTC
The annual cycle of friends and family, meeting
An oil and water duty of circumstance, intersecting
At Christmases and global conferences, occasioning
Probable murders at Christmas in the families, mixing
Their duty to drink but live distant lives apart, loving
The comfortable satisfaction of the distance, living
Their lives with social media connections, liking
The comfort of ignoring without unfriending
Their oil and water friends and family.
So
I have supplanted this duty with desire, allowing
Me to unfriend these occasional friends, becoming
Myself at last with a vicarious pleasure of, enjoying
Being a stereotypical “Grumpy Old Man”, relaxing.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 9:58 AM UTC
I couldn't figure why she left
so I killed her
killed the memories cut feelings-- severed;
Dismembered in these compositions, decomposition
skeleton's wish the fishes
she was swimming I could her listen,
how her waves are getting colder
silent as the ink turns to water.
drown in my notebook
choke like my love did,
no trace missing person drown in my hatred
drown you are baptized, opposite, soulless,
drown you just capsized, titanic,
roses
decapitate her DiCaprio
even playing all the roles I only get one Oscar?
you left me all alone babe,
so I safely took the safety off
like you,
safely made my core soft sole cause of secrets sore cause I keep them
no
I won't die with you Juliet,
slaughtered by a ball point to you I will be Shakespeare
and lately,
it mattered how I showered you with care
maybe
but it mattered how I showered you I swear
you left me you tempt me this weapon my intent
my motive, now I indent-- rarely but clearly this death will be punctual
Capital
punishment to you in my college ruled,
my hands electric
black attire
funeral-- my ivory dinner jacket,
remember you said it's a crime to fall in love
and I plead guilt to your probable cause
now the pigs wouldn't find her
not in mud,
not in dirt,
I'm on drugs,
not on earth,
still in love,
she,
vanished
the reality set in, even though you left I'd marry the poem that I killed you in--
I'd marry the words you left me with.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 11:08 PM UTC
~
*precious metal detector
of tourism,
as in a dream,
such device has the power
to make one nostalgic for places
either never visited
or nonexistent.
this strange museum exhibits
sometimes airplanes,
always mortality salience,
and the impossibly probable idea
that travel can change
your sense of time,
so you don't really mind
if things slip away,
or alter in some disenchanted way.*
~
Aug 21, 2022
Aug 21, 2022 at 12:21 PM UTC
346
Not probable—The barest Chance—
A smile too few—a word too much
And far from Heaven as the Rest—
The Soul so close on Paradise—
What if the Bird from journey far—
Confused by Sweets—as Mortals—are—
Forget the secret of His wing
And perish—but a Bough between—
Oh, Groping feet—
Oh Phantom Queen!
2.3k
It was at the party that you would see,
the nonconformist spirit of Ernest Hokum was alive and well.
He would not strive for mademoiselles
Since that would be dishonest, and Ernest was a honest man.
Not Iago honest for his desires did not lay doggo.
However, Hokum was known to succumb to a glass of ***
resulting in Hokum to become squiffy.
And any iffy encounters, he would shake them of with his usual aplomb
remaining so calm they thought he was just bored. Or dead.
And then they would leave poor Hokum to his horde of ***
"Lord, old chum, thank you for this *** Hokum proclaimed.
And he drank til he was famed for his *** drinking.
Thinking they saw him and thought "That's Hokum for you!"
Hokum knew this to be wishful thinking,
and listen to some blues.
Full of innuendos and nonsense.
Hokum's favourite combinations.
He ignored his conscience and allowed the blues to occupy his mind
Dwelling on such twaddle until he finds another distraction.
Probable *** if he was being honest, which, as previously stated he is.
Hokum didn't take life too serious
for that would be to make life into work
Any work is tedious at best, so why be so serious?
Hokum enjoyed the simple pleasures of strong alcohol and humorous inappropriate songs,
And such that was the hundum life of Ernest Hokum.
A man with a charming smile that spoke blarney with such conviction
turning fiction into facts you would believe it, just for a little while.
Why wouldn't you? That's Hokum for you, afterall.
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 7:26 PM UTC
Excuse me, Mr. Politician Man,
who the **** are you to say
what information the Government gets
at the detriment of mankind anyway?
Have you forgotten the Bill of Rights?
The 'inalienable' rights we all have?
Do they even ******* matter?
Do they even ******* exist?
I guess not.
What the **** are they doing
pressing this CISPA ********
Unlawful search and seizure of digital information
and they don't even care for warrants.
Under the guise of National Security
you'd have us all put in Camps or killed
just like we did to the Japanese all those years ago
but we've moved past that... right? Right?
I guess not.
We just keep it all more secretive now:
The people didn't stand for SOPA
and surely not for the NDAA
so what the **** gives you the idea
CISPA will fly, anyway?
Maybe if no one heard about it, it would work...
Maybe that's what you were counting on.
Excuse me, Mr. Politician Man,
who the **** are you to say
what information the Government gets
at the detriment of mankind anyway?
**** you, Mr. Politician Man
along with your constituents.
**** you, Mr. Politician Man
and your endorsements.
The Fourth Amendment requires due process
precluding unjust search and seizure;
but where the **** is due process or justice
in this proposed search at leisure?
You pass new legislation that augments old laws,
so much that they don't even need probable cause,
but not new rights nor protections for the citizenry,
not surprising given your abhorrent deontology:
You'd sooner send drones than diplomats.
You'd sooner stage attacks than be peaceful.
You'd sooner bail out banks than your citizens.
You'd sooner pass a law than change your ******* underwear.
What the **** gives you an inkling of the notion
that a beloved sociopath Politician
deserves your ******* devotion
if they pull this sort of ethical rescission?
Excuse me, Mr. Politician Man,
who the **** are you to say
what information the Government gets
at the detriment of mankind anyway?
**** you, Mr. Politician Man
along with your constituents.
**** you, Mr. Politician Man
and your endorsements.
**** me, Mr. Politician Man,
like you already do behind closed doors.
**** me, Mr. Politician Man
for ever trusting this accursed system.
Well, who the **** are you
trusted making legislation,
you can't even overcome
******* monetary gravitation.
Well, excuse me, Mr. Politician Man,
you want the People to become transparent?
Well **** you then, Mr. Politician Man
we want transparency of Government:
I'm sick of not knowing where Tax dollars go,
I'm sick of knowing over a quarter goes to the Military
which is funny in a deeply ****** up way
because I know I may help pay for
the drone that might fly overhead and see me and my friends as insurgents
and launch an IR missile to blow us to bits,
or the bullet that may be sent through my brain
as a distant if more probable than ever result
of your ******* legislation:
And so I say:
**** you, Mr. Politician Man,
along with your constituents
for making this a feasibility;
you're supposed to serve the people
but you'd rather put the U.S. in a state of futility.
So,
on behalf of all those you alienate each day,
I wish to extend to you a humble and heartfelt
Go **** yourself.
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 10:52 PM UTC