"sanctioned" poems
CLASSIFIED!
Those discreet facets of our organization
have not yet been sanctioned for public effulgence.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 4:07 PM UTC
A hymn to paired planethood: Venus hits Pluto
as death, in cold orbit, collides with biology
smashing to fragments: demonic astrology
(more a black hole than a love-star, it’s true though).
Cynical cure for Eve’s womanly grievance
Concupiscent consequence: lust’s bitter fruit –
ah the thought… changing Sin into mere inconvenience.
Margaret sang her seductive refrain
about weeding the garden and progress and light.
Her sisters should view her with scornful disdain
but instead have adopted her murderous rite.
With sang-froid she promoted her racist eugenics
(as if she had never herself been a fetus),
condemning her heirs to postmodern polemics
while nurturing ardent desires to defeat us.
Suppressing the lives that she flushed down the drain
she would liberate Death – and resistance was vain.
As a midwife to modern life (though on the “anti” side)
Old Matron Margie racked up quite a legacy
singing the praises of sanctioned infanticide
calling the shots for the coming sick century.
Planning, quite calmly, to “cleanse” certain races
her zeal was empowered by murderous graces.
She labored to bring us such pearls of subduction:
“dilation and curettage”, “women’s autonomy”
“viable fetus”, “procedure”, a “suction”
Hippocrates retches to hear the taxonomy;
words that turn Life into mere reproduction.
She enters the realms of the ****** and the motherless
roundly condemned by her feminine otherness.
Man’s first protection: the God-given womb
which no infant should have to regard as their tomb.
Dismembered dark cherubs, assembling, greet her
as demons (in scrubs) holding baby-parts meet her.
Long may she burn with the medical cynics
this mother of Moloch, this founder of clinics.
Convenience is king when abortion’s the Queen
and the profits swell big with each nubile teen…
yet the fruit of such carnage remains to be seen.
I send her this song as a funeral wreath
and a card inked in blood. You may read what is there:
“To the Matrix Supreme of our culture of death
from the souls of the infants you slew on the earth.
May your torment increase with the children you bear.”
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 9:09 PM UTC
American Democracy
is setting a trend:
American Democracy
is a Sitcom, or perhaps a Game Show
of demagogic, narcissistic sociopaths
tricking and manipulating the Public
via various sources in a highly consolidated Media industry
into thinking they vote for a particular flavor of Tyranny
when in reality Today's flavor of Tyranny is all decided for you
because the burden of Choice is far too stressful
for the Moderner without proper medication,
and the power of Choice may require some sort of educated critical Thinking,
some sort of re-edification
which is far too much for us to handle
in this socially sanctioned doped-up state
and with such an intentionally failing Education system
from K through 12 and beyond.
With American Democracy,
We have a grand Illusion of Choice.
It's so convincing that many believe the Illusion is True.
(Sort of like hew we think of Reality, but with Choice of Government!)
For American Democracy,
They don't want mass Education.
They don't want mass Edification.
They don't want Critical Thinking;
Those things prevent a Control by few.
In American Democracy,
They intentionally destroy progresses made, like Rights,
They perpetuate stigmas about things like genders and the concept of "race" itself
They propagate Terror as their Sheeple scream from the sidelines for more
They defile the sanctity of Human Experience, of Reality itself
and chain us to a system that benefits only a few
while destroying everything else,
like Climate and Environment.
These Demagogues are Satan, if Satan is real:
They tempt us with the things we don't need,
filling us with Stress, Desires, Prejudices and Fears,
and ceaselessly wage war on institutions of Education,
all the while keeping us from finding the things we already have within each of us.
This System of American Democracy
has degraded into a corrupted fractal
of the ages-old ways of Tyranny and Terror:
Aristocracy, Plutocracy,
Patriarchy, Oligarchy,
Kleptocracy, Demagoguery,
Bankocracy, Corporatocracy,
Fascism;
Tell me,
What is the ******* difference?
I mean,
even Adolf ****** was elected democratically
under the pretense of "Change"
then, for weeks later, suspended civil rights indefinitely
after a likely false-flag 'attack' on the Reichstag in 1933,
(for which the Nazis blamed the communists.)
under the pretense of "Security":
Demagoguery runs Amok
Among disedified Minds.
They say "Freedom" and "Democracy"
as if it vindicates their Totalitarianism.
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC
**Here I lie wide awake,
thoughts pouring through my mind.
How sweet the touch your body,
when craving after mine.**
*Playful eyes and dancing toes,
wrestling to shed our clothes.
You bite my neck and I taste yours,
we slowly kiss, our tongues explore.*
**I toss and turn, try to ignore,
these visions now vibrate my core,
the chance I'd take if you were near,
to breathe you in as though you're here.**
*Lips running down your heartfelt chest,
caressing them along your breast,
excitfull moans begin to flow,
the further down I go below.*
*With grace I trace, my love expands,
this sanctioned sin, no reprimands.
You feel me now, passions run deep,
quietly your sounds they speak,
and as they do,
I follow through,
through the depths of reaching you.*
*As inner thighs,
quiver and quake,
salty sweet your taste I take,
your fingers running through my hair,
you pace my face,
and steady,
there!
You groan in ecstasy,
your love receives the best of me.
I slowly give my all to you,
with rhythm we begin to move,
clasping our hands, you sway your hips,
you raise them up, as we eclipse.*
**It echos through these deep elations,
driving in intense sensations.**
*Entangled we begin to dance,
form beads of tropical romance.
You rain on me, and I on you,
our bodies moist like sultry dew.*
**Tell me now, where have I gone,
this feels like some celestial bond.
I'm but alone, in my own bed,
yet here you are inside my head.**
*Joining rapid beating hearts,
pulsating through our tender parts.
Increasingly your warm breath's felt,
together we begin to melt...*
**I must expel this lustrous notion,
to sinfully vow my devotion.
How can it be, to have not met,
yet yarn for you, without regret.**
Dec 7, 2016
Dec 7, 2016 at 11:20 PM UTC
bespeckled, blotched & blokey
feminine in aspects
only little ****** hair patches
two chins,
or rather a sloped one
the front evenly declining to the middle of the throat
a gradual slope from the tip, for juices to run if his manner and situation allowed him to be as casual and sloppy as his laziness chose,
torso without form, so there was no curvature on the buttocks or the fly region.
a mass
a blob of bulges on spindly legs
he leans on the wall
stubby in hand he balks
(he means jovial but unintentionally he vocalises mockery)
at the suggestion that the Pies will do better
& that Eddie is a clever man due for thanks, who has done his club well (apparently a straight Aussie arrow tried and true!)
the man ***** his head back & cackles
(the trebly popping bubbles of a gala crackle outwards as the man cackles)
& decides his arms need a rest,
(a long day of up and down they have had indeed, they deserve respect, or rest (or a benching))
so he places his beer down
on a sloped surface,
& therefore it slips down….
he sees it plummeting, he stretches toward it's tragic trajectory,
…..but he is too slow
it smashes
on his foot (the shards) the beer bottle it transfigures,
and the shards they impart their misery on his toes.
The shards they intrude on his relaxed state of wellbeing, they intrude on the security sanctioned within the casual footwear of a man at a barbecue; taking it easy.
he swears and hops, reaching in indignation for his bleeding toes
he holds the wound cursing; resisting the impulse to begin convulsive throws
(an oscar worthy performance from a usually suburbaly urbane individual)
the moisture feels degrading
(as it would within a man's pants)
the pain from the cuts it is worsened
by the smirking gazes of others about
he hobbles, disregarding his thong in the wreckage of the scene
off to retrieve a band aid
to mend his ego
and his foot
simultaneously
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 10:18 AM UTC
complexity
is your beauty
simplicity
your mystery
interdependence
sustains you
once upon a time
we dipped bowls
into your waters
and brought up
draughts of life
now
Skipjacks go
fathoms deep
into endless
depletion
charting
entangled
dead zones
broadening
into a sea of
inertness
your delicate
eco-essence tips
toward oblivion
effluvia farmers
layer mechanized
blankets of
nitrates on your
sunset shores
weaving
green tendrils
of algae blooms
strangling the
entanglements
of all links in
your miraculous
food chain
the EPA
proscribes
a Jenny Craig
pollution diet
to halt the
slaughter in
oxygen
challenged
dead zones
where rockfish
are garroted,
oysters get drilled
by screwworms
and azure tinted
soft shell *****
dance soft
shoe taps
lifting a tinny
chorus of sad
Piedmont Blues
the flat-lining
watersheds
voiceless
warnings
tremble
rocking the
purged nests of
screaming ospreys
in vocal protest
of a sinking
Tangier Isle
anointing it’s
tombstones
of unvisited
cemeteries with
multicolored
guano
fitting
alkaline
tributes
to the lost
inhabitants
and forgotten
languages
sinking into the
brine of gray
brackish tides
Delmarva’s fine
intra-continental
balance skewed
by the oozing
industrial swill
of Frank Perdue
chicken farms
ruling the roost of
sanctioned sustainability
tinging clear watersheds
of finger lakes
set in splints to
repair dislocations
and complex
compound fractures
that may never heal
again
Music Selection:
Taj Mahal: Fishin Blues
jbm
Oakland
6/7/12
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 8:36 AM UTC
Gloating before the unrequited,
We find the dashing, sanctioned, and corrupt.
Their brave hearts undeserving,
Granted only by the conquests of their fathers,
And the favoritism of Nature's *****
There were countless sleepless nights spent amid your memories.
Your cruel indifference, the Nightmare on my chest.
You are unworthy and wretched. Disgraceful and dishonorable.
Unfit and useless. Discordant and dissident.
Your true love is apathy.
And still, despite a noble effort,
I always find my thoughts ...
Returning to you.
Feb 6, 2011
Feb 6, 2011 at 7:15 PM UTC
----------x---------x---------x----------x----------
*Our Donald J. Trump, he's the president of the United States
In America and Washington DC, He's the greatest!
He's got the pen, He's got the power, He's the man of the hour
And he's signing executive orders as fast as he can!
He's just like superman, Woa! - By 4 am he's inked a travel ban,
Kissed his wife, walked the dog and sanctioned Iran!
And Donald J. Trump's done all of this before sunrise, Whew!
Regards, President Donald J. Trump, 45 stars for you!*
---------x----------x----------x---------x----------
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 7:57 PM UTC
A best friend
Be's the best he
Can ever be
Don't take it for granted that
Everything goodll come if
Fate allows it
To fourth and search
Hither until
It knocks your head
Just about right
Know your enemies
Love your friends
Many are lost through
Naysaying and slandering
Obviously those types of
People will realise
Queens and Kings will be
Recrowned, killed and
Sanctioned against
Through hatred and anger
Unless a person who
Verbs his way through
Wards of hospitals where
Xenophobia is lost while
You sit like a caged animal in a
ZOO!
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 12:04 PM UTC
Arrow upon arrow the stricken heart endured,
Strife and doom its woeful dream ensured.
Vile phantoms of creed with deception en route
Intended to thwart, unveil their wicked fruit.
Satan had withered our spirit's joy and flame,
And gathered an earthly militia; among those to blame.
A maze he encrypted, the heir's light yet unseen,
All prospects stolen, great efforts wiped clean.
Creative their mind twilight art they presented,
The Sphere's evil hosts all reflected and resented.
Lost was all hearing, faith and sight,
Misplaced sense of wonder and good sense in flight.
"I worship nothing!" His heir once preferred,
Such was the spirit in high degrees deterred.
"Paragons of justice, will I ever get to see
The day my misfortunes cease to be?
They shadow, entrap and starve my soul
Of love and joy and all control!
So tired I am, and tired I shall stay
If purpose here is merely to convey
No purpose at all, except for one:
To enslave the soul, casting punishment for fun.
My simple wish, then, is simply to impart
An end to this misery and to my sanctioned heart."
His despairing heir put in motion so
An idea most frightening, its telling shall forego...
Immerse in their demise, allow for stricken grief,
Then foresee the King's love and His graciousness in fleet.
He gathered around, with love He replaced
Satan and his minions conspiring in space;
The King broke off the heir's chains with great might,
He enlightened our spirit, who had not known the light.
The heir's desperate cries reached The King's vibrations,
He released the heir and nullified all limitations.
Profound divine wisdom our heir now espies;
Seeing The King's glory and the through destroyer's lies.
Great wisdom and revelation now fill this mended heart,
But it's a tale best left for another form of art...
Nov 20, 2016
Nov 20, 2016 at 11:35 PM UTC
*Deadly deluded deceitful demon's of: inter-racial racism; murderous religiosity; frightful jealous hackings; tribally usurping genocides; atrocious political strength-of-arms; invading ferocity; selfish presidential reasoning;
Springs cut Irises -
dripping vital red not purple,
far from my window;
self-effacing prime ministerial decrees of war; sanctioned moves by greedy banker pawns; designer labelled terrorism; War, a game now called 'Texas Billionaires Commodity'; a countries paid survival; seeded maniacal jealousy; globalisation's murdering grandiose; grandiloquent made walking bombaster(s) ; revenger mob leaders; our taxed Fools World !?
Globalisation - orchestrated profiteers, betting our losses*
May 21, 2010
May 21, 2010 at 11:16 PM UTC
greece, even, in the nostalgia decades sometimes wore american clothes
but she spoke no english, was starkly unilingual
save for the french "sillage". she was the reason they teach you safe ***
and abstinence: the reason they couldn't trust you
she dressed more american than everybody else; she was a beautiful cockeyed anachronism
your jimmy stewart baby blues on her, brandy-sanctioned
better than the everyman. and a hallucination of your stand-in therapist
asking you "why should there be guilt if there is pleasure?"
and you replying horselike/illogical "it is the unconscious fantasy that i can be torn apart"
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 7:52 PM UTC
~
Money alone chips away at sanctioned walls
Porous, your deflection is my bane
I loath the chasm this singularity has instilled between us.
~
Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 4:47 PM UTC
I'm cupid wounded,
'Cause this love was misconstrued.
You stabbed an arrow through my heart,
I still can't remove it.
Love is small,
yet we all fall into it.
It shouldn't be a game,
Yet somehow I end up losin'.
And now I'm faded,
And it seems the scars are fadin'.
The time we spent in love,
Is replaced with this hatred.
Angels turn to pagans,
and these sins become sanctioned,
I've got demons on my shoulders,
The lips of Hades at my tragus.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 2:26 AM UTC
Sometimes, I write to understand.
And sometimes to explain
But now, the words begin to land
In a distinctive little game
I'll admit this one I do not need-
Its not essential like the rest,
But for my ego it does feed
A serenity contest.
For all I want is to be known
For all my sanctioned skills
You see this ryhme which I now own? Does it make you ill?
To think in this confession
That the power of my word
is no more than an obsession?
One that I've detered.
For followers is what I need!
Its all im really here for.
And to admit this ugly greed
Makes me crave it even more.
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 4:02 AM UTC
I will not attribute honor
to the bloodiest of games
to cold, condoned killings
faceless murders without blame.
War is to the green-clad
a state-sanctioned game
I will not call that thing honor
for which good men should feel shame.
Jun 28, 2010
Jun 28, 2010 at 10:18 PM UTC
vyvanse, at last, my chance to be
alive, to do, to finish all my
projects, **** I love this job,
I want to dig it all day long
ritalin, my only friend, you'll be
there till the very end, I know
that I am happy now, I
think that I have meaning now,
I wish you wouldn't bring me down, I wish I weren't
running out
adderall, yeah that's my ****
when addie's there, agree with it,
I'll never stop this addie binge, I know that
I don't have to quit,
my doctor tells me "this is it",
my dealer tells me "this the ****
I'm happy now it's safe to say the
war on drugs will end today,
amphetamine's the bread we break, the
wedding band that's been exchanged
between this government-sanctioned
pharmaceutical cartel
and the DEA
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 8:43 PM UTC
My Dear, Please understand.
You cant force your light upon him.
You might be the reason he smiles while his eyes squint and sparkle.
His laughter will certainly affirm your clever humor.
You will impress him with well-earned accomplishments.
Your impeccable wit will not go unnoticed.
He may even feel affection and empathize with your sincere words or actions.
You will undeniably allure him.
My dear, please understand.
You are truly worthy, you won't be to him.
You will choose him, he won't choose you.
He can't.
My dear, please understand.
His rejection is not a reflection of you.
His actions reflect something much bigger than you.
He is at war with demons you can't comprehend.
These demons whisper to his mind and dance on his heart.
They represent the weaknesses within him.
My dear,
You possess a servant's heart
but you are no servant of the demons that play on his.
We are all at war, you too have demons.
Demons are relentless creatures sent from the depths of Hell
they ravage and destroy our very being, if we allow.
There is no reasoning, no alliance that can be made with demons.
They will consume you from the inside.
My dear, please understand.
It's not him. It's his demons he has allowed to rule over him.
This is a solo war that can't be fought from the outside.
You cannot save him.
You cannot save him.
You cannot save him.
Only he can save himself.
And you must prioritze the war you are fighting.
You must save yourself.
My dear, please understand.
He is not the validation that you need.
His actions should not reflect your value to yourself or to him.
He is not your father's rejection.
His sweet carress will not requite the man of your past who was once not so gentle.
His affection is not sufficient in replacing the empty hole
expanded by doubt, abandonment, and anguish you sanctioned your demons
to create within yourself.
My dear,
Your tenacious nature and relentless love will not be disregarded.
Your weaknesses, the demons who dance on your heart
will surely capture the attention of his very own demons.
My dear, please understand.
If granted; the demons that consume him
will gladly consume you too.
-Ashley Johnson
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 6:53 PM UTC
Presidential paramours sanctioned but not silenced.
Not to speak yet being heard, attorneys and agencies speaking on their behalf.
Everyone knows,
now that the election has passed.
Who would have cared anyway?
We know now that it doesn't matter, transgressions and despicable deeds never tarnish the orange luster.
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 4:07 PM UTC
When you're mad at me I drive slower than I normally would even though we're not saying a word to each other; just to be there with you, for as long as possible, to feel that emotional consciousness between us; even to feel that tense love that we have had for quite a while now.
I write you love letters & tape them to the bottom of your bed once a month, that way, however long it takes for you to find them, when you finally do, your eyes will have never witnessed a garden of sunflowers so breathtaking before; a garden of my emotions; a garden of our story.
I buy you things that I won't ever give to you because I know you would love them, but I also know how you hate when I spend money on you.
I tell everyone I meet that I have a diamond waiting for me back home. What they don't know is that you're actually a gold mine. A pure, beautifully sanctioned, gold mine.
I stare at you for hours on end while you sleep so elegantly next to me, because every rose should always be noticed, & every star in the galaxy needs to be appreciated.
I plan out cute dates for us in excruciating details, & only plan to take you on each of them once a year, because I know we can make it that long, I know it.
I secretly record your voice every now & then, & play it on loop so I can fall asleep to the most delicately astounding sound this world has ever come across. Your voice is my clarity. Your voice reminds me of all the reasons why i'm not religious.
I sometimes sing in the shower, but only the last song that played before you got out of the car. Every song reminds me of your voice & everything always brings my mind back to the thought of you. My mind is like a wandering dog, he may be able to venture out for some time, but sooner or later he always comes back to the thing he knows best.
I write songs for you daily but am afraid that if I show them to you & you know my fully untouched feelings about you then all you would see me as is what I really am, weak.
I have a journal that is filled with ways to tell you that I love you without actually ever saying a word.
The entire journal is blank, because there is no way to express my love for you in words or any sort of physical symbolism.
You see, my love for you goes unnoticed, but that's okay because the way you tell me that I have galaxies under my eyelids & the way you stare at me while we watch Gossip Girl is why I don't care if you know I love you or not; I don't even care if you love me or not; all I care about is that you're still breathing in the morning & that you're still mine every night.
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 7:10 PM UTC
You have failed to accept the truth
Here you are following their semantic rules
Playing the role of a social robot
One that is being brainwashed non stop
It has become a form of art
That ripped your thoughts apart
Indulged you in its pratices
Wrapping you around its clutches
While you rest, they create your reality
Making their words your best rhapsody
When in fact, it's just a treading enemy
Reinforced linguistically and sanctioned culturally
You work hard towards the prosperity of the opressor
And to those who dare fight, you take extreme measures
You have a lopsided point of view of a rigid world
Yet you do nothing to change it and appear undisturbed
Isn't it time to emancipate yourself aginst such actions?
Form your own truth and make your own decisions?
Educate yourself and free your mind
Leave what you thought is the truth behind.
May 14, 2022
May 14, 2022 at 10:12 AM UTC