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Dante Nov 2011
This One Time,
                        I stripped naked
        and ****** my couch.
This other time
  I threw a copy of The Fountainhead
at an RV moving at 64 miles an hour
  I have a tree
            In the foothills
    named Clementine Valencia Jeff
  and the same day, me and John
made a religion with Adam based
       on cloud formations
      You see, I'm a weird guy
         I got
           I got problems
      I see a therapist
           Her name's Rhonda
        She likes Batmaa aaaaan
     She sees people worse than me
        but recognizes I got problems
     and she
         she tries to help
       cause
            cause I got problems
      and the
         and the problem
                   with having problems
         is
           is function
   You
         You can't do anything
  You live to defy expectation
  And - and it's really hard
     to get into college
    You never really get accepted
       and and
            and even if
        even if you do you
            you
               you never really accept that
  It's hard out there for a freak
I get lost within my own
       ridiculous quandaries
  You feel like you're not
    you're not built right
      like something's wrong
  and you just punch and
    and kick and
       and destroy
   Whatever feels des-
           destroy able because it gives
   purpose
     Bu
       But I finally think I -I
               found my mantra
My my
       My compass thing
   My map whatever


   It has the same number of
letters of something very very dear
     to me
   and
      and that holds meaning
  I
    I wrote it on the back of my door
      my door
  and- and I sprayed it on a
           shirt
  I actually got it from a videogame with
   with a
    with Ayn Randian themes
   It's religious
  and
   and every night now
before I go to sleep
     I
       I- I look into Neil Patrick Harris's
        eyes
   feel the warmth of my wonderful blanket
  admire some handiwork
    read about serial arson
close my eyes and tell myself
     She is our Salvation
W Nov 2013
When everybody tells me that I can be anything I want,
I was born to do what I want,
I believe them.

So, I was born to be wild.
Or maybe I was born 2 b wild (numeral and letter)
or brn2bwld (no vowels nospaces)

I'm a poet and I'm proud to say
**** form     and while im at it, **** the word
*** (no c) and **** the grammar of needing to put the apostrophe in im
Because I write as i want i am as I want and nothing can
Change that.

like gatsby the Great i have given birth to Myself and
I am me, no
One                 ELSE
not even gatsby or any Ayn Randian wetdream dreamed of on a midsummer night because
fk (no c no vowels) Shakespeare and fitzgerald and the shrugging atlas

becuz (uz instead of ause)
this is Me

and no One, not a duckface peacesign Mona Lisa or a bandanawearing bazookawielding Benjamin Franklin
can ever destroy
t     h     a     t

because (no change) I am born to be wild (no change)
Timothy Ward Jan 2016
O front facin camera
Ayn Randian terror
Yet another Selfie
Of but another Narc-y
Glory to Me-ism
Duck face and pic-ism
Photoshopped pics
Of inflated lips
Capturer of Chimeras
O Front Facing Camera!
I hate my camera and my camera hates me! Hahaha
JP Goss Sep 2019
Upon this day, a reckoning of an ideal
Has begun—the immortalizing of ideologies
In statues, in tremendous acts, in carbon footprints
Has kept humankind comforted well into
Its collective existential crisis,
Like a black hole consuming all matter around it
So has David Koch created a hole
So powerful, only the crumbs of an economy
Still circle recognizable, having long disfigured
What it means to be human—
Randian liquors dribble from his lips
Like crude from earth’s entrails,
Where to heal the ills of an unequal system
Forever picked and scratched open,
Fresh blood lines a gilded age promenade
And workers follow the path,
Churches follow the path,
Business executives follow the path,
The fossil fuel industry follows the path—
The legacy is strikingly apparent
In the folds and lines of the earth,
Carving human-shaped beds
In the crust and forever below
One such for David Koch, too,
The legacy is strikingly apparent
In the ****** of things human and not,
The legacy is strikingly apparent,
In the killing of the human and the birthing
Of the industrial human, the consumer race
With word opines what industry cannot solve
With deed makes hurdles far exceeding industry,
A contradicting race
A self-limiting virus,
An impossible being, the consuming race,
An inhuman being—
This ******* of the over-man
Should come with minor fanfare
In babelic tongues as we celebrate,
Good or bad, happily or tearfully,
The death of the invisible hand’s seraphim,
Who, while building the tower to heaven,
Took up the horns, encouraged us with
The Gospel of individualism that Russian sociopath
Espoused so convincingly, so fetishistically,
We’ve risen above, we’ve moved beyond,
No longer human but capital:
What does not **** us
Only makes them stronger.

— The End —