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"radicalism" poems
how benevolent our government has been supporting immigrants with the taxpayer's generous Welfare scheme yet a percentage of these immigrants use the taxpayer's money for dubious means they travel abroad to places where radicalism is indoctrinated and the message they are inculcated with is one of killing they fly back into our country with their minds full of slogans and deadly propaganda one of these persons could be in any of our cities or towns freely walking the streets a radicalized individual maybe known to us he or she planning a terrorist attack inside our continent our taxpayer dollars exploited for ill intent our government has gathered intelligence on these persons of radical bent their Welfare payments are to be cut off which shall choke off their horrific lament
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Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 8:46 PM UTC
Horrific Lament
it should bother you that ive been alone in my room all afternoon with my homework and have only done five problems it should bother you that i delete my internet history day after day after day but its only because i dont want anyone to see that ive been reading the works of liars and ****** and thieves it should bother you that you didnt know this about me but it doesnt my inner communism or socialism or fascism or racism or feminism or radicalism should probably be something of your concern but its not you dont care that i sit here and drown in the words of dead poets or revolutionaries or just people no you dont care you stopped caring when i said no its my life not yours and slammed that door in your face and you took one too many of those sweet little pills it should bother you that youre dead and gone but it doesnt, it doesnt, it doesnt and it wont though you still hang about me you miserable ghost just sit there in the air above my head and just dont care no matter what i do i cant make you go away cant make you see what i see cant make you come back to me
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Oct 16, 2011
Oct 16, 2011 at 11:18 PM UTC
my ghost.
Life Baffled. What befell Our civilization Is hell. There is no heaven When religion is mistaken For a token of radicalism. Death Rejoiced What brought her Our people In a living inferno. There is no pourparlers With terrorists and benighted Souls. Manchester These people are heathens No virgins await them up the heavens But the cold-blooded sight of a bleeding earth Stigmatizing those out there who protect their hearths In tears, facing the West This is a waste of our so called civilization Jews Muslims Christians Buddhists We aren’t. We are humans. In the aftermath of the deadly attacks that befell Manchester Arena, May 23, 2017. Lyon
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May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 4:54 AM UTC
Anger Strike
Do you like charisma? Do you like stamina? Perhaps with a certain degree of integrity And a bit of leadership If you find these qualities to be evident Then I could very well become your next president I know how to balance From center-left to center-right From radicalism to conventionalism How to be the best non-established established candidate I’d put your money to good use As I use gilded words in golden speeches I won’t lose my head While dominating the headlines And keep on smiling while Barnstorming amidst the blunt and the bigots Debating with the decadents and the destructive I can easily pretend So I could very well become the next president So primarily, I need to win this primary I’ll put my money where my mouth is If you put your money in a SuperPAC Donate to liberate this country! Vote to promote the road of progress! And in time, America will be mine
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Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 8:54 AM UTC
Primaries
when young, I read Thoreau the transcendentalists were but gone by slightly over a century disobedience was in style we would all head toward the land and live in the wood soybeans simmering on the stove as we headed toward a dream the pull of the world a force so very strong as to last throughout the ages interrupted our free fall so when I would consult the mind of Walden through his writings there burned in me a sense of radicalism to head to the forest, naked with poetry I told myself I could not afford these steps recognized that Thoreau’s considerations were so true as to be dangerous I set the sage aside I am sure that sages expect that sort of behavior soon after my 50th year in my personal limerick I found myself looking at a summer morn…..
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Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 8:11 PM UTC
when young
Just gone into the blue sky cascading down below into oblivion where the water is cold, yet ready to douse the fireball spiralling downwards to outstretched arms. Think. Before you board. You. With the warped vision of life and death and agony. Nothing will save you from the hell you have created taking your own brother and sister into your short circuit of idealisms bent and bruised in the cunning radicalism of your masters mania. Just as the stars burn for ever You too will burn in that endless dynamo of time unmourned , ungrieved, forgotten quickly. The waters will not wash away your sins. You have been baptised in a cauldron of hate. Go alone. Leave others. © Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
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Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 4:24 PM UTC
Disappearance
Radiant like basquiat Throw my every thing at nothingness In hopes of achieving.. No job holding radicalism True expression  Why fix a flat when you (walk) amongst stars Obscure.. Real inspiration No concept of (madness) repeated (method) Vicious cycle Timeless chaos.. Seconds of every hour (Countless) inspiration Untitled.. New thoughts entrance into old minds Wisdom of having knowledge the jewels of life shine Without ever noticing (Omniscient) (translucent) A diamond in a goats *** The rose that grew from concrete  Unexplainable The art of being existence Just words to a page of no readers (Blind audience) audio visuals Brail the (real feel) a noise for those whom cant hear Emotionless pit The deepest depth Never to be touched upon Seek and you shall find Stagnant (Negative aspect) First time ive scripted a composition In such a way scholar No scholarships missed out on the college creds (low credit) Middle class Irs out to audit a poor man thumb tax Little ****** (Play on Words) Romeo n Juliet tragedy Alcoholism deep rooted (Jean pool) Denim Faded new terminology, wavy Turnt up Burn bluntz the essence of mother earth Sweet aroma Quit smoking its bad cause i say so.. Well ive done so at free will but felt enslaved (Irrational thinking) Conspiracy Subconscious Third eye awakened Opened chakras Encoded language Aspirations Untitled... Simply Untitled
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Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 5:16 AM UTC
untitled...
The walled -in city imposed upon the reason to stand so tall within the minds slum People gathered in networks discussing nothing. Even as the sea split into pellets of rain The waters squished together to form puddles of delight where children played with bare toeholds in the dirt. I saw Jericho fall as trumpets went out of tune and tunics hitched up on Roman Generals marched with full venison bellies slaughtering people like pigs-making bacon! As desolate as this **** dream visions of wasted emptiness, slowly filling at the edge with landscaped gardens of garbage the gates opened and Trojan Horses unleashed terror on the people. Prophets roamed the Western world preaching doomsday and scimitars of radicalism overtaking the civilised. Insanity finds its origins in reading between the lines. I tell you it will not happen. It never will. Author Notes Dare to decipher this? © Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago
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Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 8:13 PM UTC
The Difficult Poem
Go read your lolicon you ****** infant! Impress the primates with your big boy lingo and bottle an emotion, excrete a dialogue, call it ******* art. The coffee here smells like tobacco, and tastes like it too. I thought I liked love but I just want something real. But what is the theme? South African radicalism? Come my droogs let us speculate of the falling walls and crumbling symphonies, the dystopia I hide my cutter in. I saw them take away experience, take away love and replaced it with java script, I watched it happen. Soon we’ll all be binary and who am I to stop change.
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Dec 31, 2016
Dec 31, 2016 at 8:16 PM UTC
Flattery 2
Radicalism is the death of logic. It is faith blind and pathologic. For one must comprehend, One truth - that is not the end.
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May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 3:37 PM UTC
On Radicalism
Rebellious Poet The world is a **** travesty! (Pencil pusher in a suit seeks a talented personality. Has many references to personal opinions. Will **** d*ck for fame.) My question is this. Are there any voices left at all? Any fingers with which to actually inspire? Are all the poet's really dead and extinct? And only hopeless left, extinguishing the fire? (Young teen seeks ways to vent rage. Picks up a pen, writes about false suicide attempt. Cuts self for release. Will remove shirt for attention) What happened to the singers of the past? Did they all get lost in the crowd of rejects? Is a spot on a page really considered art? Makes me confused and very perplexed. (Old man seeks renewal of old hobbies. Picks up a pen and writes. Shows people, and is accused of radicalism. Will read basic works just for love) Am I wrong in my view of this world? Has my heart truly died to all life? Is it wrong to see flaws in existence? Is it right to think difference has died? (Young boy seeks love. Will allow self to be groomed and abused for attention). Injustice. Ridiculousness. Absurdity. It is wrong to be radical? To be free? Will I let you chain my uncontrolled soul? Nah. Never. I like being me. I have seen my share of the world and its kicks, and I tell you my friend... it is not a pretty sight. Racism is put on the back burner now. No more black against white. For the world has resorted to grey and death. They are not people. They are just... normal. While the romantics. The real rebels, and the sympathetic of life are abnormal. I want to read a really great scope of life. A philosophy of hope on art and song. And although there are many who are useless, I pray they raise their voice and sing along. So join me in this final, last embrace. The truth of life that many have ignored. This young guy just seeks a world of artists. A place where sight and sounds can be adored.
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Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 3:18 AM UTC
Rebellious Poet
Rebellious Poet The world is a **** travesty! (Pencil pusher in a suit seeks a talented personality. Has many references to personal opinions. Will **** d*ck for fame.) My question is this. Are there any voices left at all? Any fingers with which to actually inspire? Are all the poet's really dead and extinct? And only hopeless left, extinguishing the fire? (Young teen seeks ways to vent rage. Picks up a pen, writes about false suicide attempt. Cuts self for release. Will remove shirt for attention) What happened to the singers of the past? Did they all get lost in the crowd of rejects? Is a spot on a page really considered art? Makes me confused and very perplexed. (Old man seeks renewal of old hobbies. Picks up a pen and writes. Shows people, and is accused of radicalism. Will read basic works just for love) Am I wrong in my view of this world? Has my heart truly died to all life? Is it wrong to see flaws in existence? Is it right to think difference has died? (Young boy seeks love. Will allow self to be groomed and abused for attention). Injustice. Ridiculousness. Absurdity. It is wrong to be radical? To be free? Will I let you chain my uncontrolled soul? Nah. Never. I like being me. I have seen my share of the world and its kicks, and I tell you my friend... it is not a pretty sight. Racism is put on the back burner now. No more black against white. For the world has resorted to grey and death. They are not people. They are just... normal. While the romantics. The real rebels, and the sympathetic of life are abnormal. I want to read a really great scope of life. A philosophy of hope on art and song. And although there are many who are useless, I pray they raise their voice and sing along. So join me in this final, last embrace. The truth of life that many have ignored. This young guy just seeks a world of artists. A place where sight and sounds can be adored.
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T H I S is what i scared the most the radicalism is it a good thing to be a little too radical? to the point where you put too much value... belief... , on that in that Things that'll make you argue disagree disrespect hatred betrayed sabotaged even.. killing See other thing with another negativity JUST BECAUSE people don't believe it the way you do scary... right? :'/
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Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 2:24 PM UTC
THIS
I can feel it. see it, believe it... Yes, I can. The kindle of destruction... Oh man, this is good... Yes, this is lively Enjoying this canopy of death… "Death? Enjoying? Are you crazy?" No, I am not.In fact, if the truth has to be TOLD, I haven’t been wiser, seeing this brutal massacre. I would have given the best I have... But today… But today as life is on a rampage... I can feel the thrill... The goosebumps aren’t lying. And the only price I paid, for this One-time annihilation… is in time. The time has finally turned its face, The destruction is good, because it has destroyed the hypocrite I was, the shallow faith I had… I am astounded by the canopy of death, for I can see the death of waste that I was. These selfish beliefs have haunted me my entire life. and they are dead. The dance around the fire, that is being fueled by my racist ideas, my sexist prose, my fascist poems, is exhilarating… feel the pace of me breathing… I have a beginning planned, a path well lit. and goals strong fitted, with thoughts, properly ventilated… I wish to live life for its beauty... I will start in that way, where the concern is my tool... and the concern well accompanied by positivity... I dare now to stand for the human race... attempt to expel the pessimistic radicalism, deep-rooted… and preach happiness… And when I walk that road, with love in my heart and song on my lips., I hope to find you there, ready to be my partner, sharing the dream of a better world, because I am a believer. And just to simmer the smell of ashes of failed me, let's refract.
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Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 8:16 PM UTC
Resurrection
I can feel it. see it, believe it... Yes, I can. The kindle of destruction... Oh man, this is good... Yes, this is lively Enjoying this canopy of death… "Death? Enjoying? Are you crazy?" No, I am not.In fact, if the truth has to be TOLD, I haven’t been wiser, seeing this brutal massacre. I would have given the best I have... But today… But today as life is on a rampage... I can feel the thrill... The goosebumps aren’t lying. And the only price I paid, for this One-time annihilation… is in time. The time has finally turned its face, The destruction is good, because it has destroyed the hypocrite I was, the shallow faith I had… I am astounded by the canopy of death, for I can see the death of waste that I was. These selfish beliefs have haunted me my entire life. and they are dead. The dance around the fire, that is being fueled by my racist ideas, my sexist prose, my fascist poems, is exhilarating… feel the pace of me breathing… I have a beginning planned, a path well lit. and goals strong fitted, with thoughts, properly ventilated… I wish to live life for its beauty... I will start in that way, where the concern is my tool... and the concern well accompanied by positivity... I dare now to stand for the human race... attempt to expel the pessimistic radicalism, deep-rooted… and preach happiness… And when I walk that road, with love in my heart and song on my lips., I hope to find you there, ready to be my partner, sharing the dream of a better world, because I am a believer. And just to simmer the smell of ashes of failed me, let's refract.
Continue reading...
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