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Bob B Dec 2018
(Can be sung to the tune of "Santa Claus Is Comin' to Town")

You'd better take heed; you'd better not bawl
When you read all the writing on the wall:
You are going to be IMPEACHED.
You can deny what you have done,
But you cannot fool everyone.
You are going to be IMPEACHED.
Mueller's digging deeper,
No matter what you do.
No matter what you think or say,
He's got the goods on you.
So! You'd better take heed; you'd better not bawl
When you read all the writing on the wall:
You are going to be IMPEACHED.

Putin can say he wasn't involved,
And you say, "Hey! Now I'm absolved."
You are going to be IMPEACHED.
Republican friends in Congress can try
To undermine the Mueller probe and lie.
You're still going to be IMPEACHED.
The people in this country are jumping up and down.
Finally there'll be oversight: the Dems have come to town.
So! You'd better take heed; you'd better not bawl
When you read all the writing on the wall:
You are going to be IMPEACHED.

You think that you are free and clear.
Keep your eyes open as storm clouds near.
You are going to be IMPEACHED.
You can say "No collusion" each day.
The truth of the matter won't go away.
You are going to be IMPEACHED.
Among your co-conspirators someone's spilled the beans;
Someone's told the truth about you,
And you know what that means.
So! You'd better take heed; don't weep and wail.
Worst case scenario: time in jail.
You are going to be IMPEACHED.

-by Bob B (12-10-18)
Lunar Apr 2017
Seven years. It has been seven years since that day.

And now here they were in the alfresco of that overrated café, with the man sitting across the lady: he was sipping his black coffee and she, her jasmine tea. The scenario almost seemed impossible in the past, but for someone with her tenacious personality, something ‘impossible’ just meant ‘a little later’ than ‘never at all.’ This moment played by fate was comparable to the persistent rainstorm that forced them to stay together a little longer in the coffee shop than planned.

“I’ve been thinking,” he sighed into his coffee mug, “About leaving this place and heading to the States. Study more on film and acting from the professionals themselves. Get into showbiz of the global standard. Be a real director. What do you think?”

She straightened her posture and settled her cup down on the table, nodding in acquiescence at his idea of endeavors that appeared promising for his future.

“Well… Why not? I say go for it. I support you in that decision.”
He diverted his eyes to hers, trying to read the gaze behind those wide eyes. Though wide and nonchalant they may seem to be, only a few can notice and genuinely understand what swims in those dark depths. Their staring game ended as her voice surfaced once again through the sound of rainfall.

“I support you. If you’re ever wondering why, it’s because I had to make a decision just like that—seven years ago.”

This time it was his eyes that widened, and he placed his mug alongside hers.

“What kind of decision was it? You definitely weren’t aiming to be an actor like me, considering you’re a licensed interior designer, not to mention writer, right now,” he chuckled, leaning back onto his chair.

A soft smile of nostalgia emerged on her lips as she remembered what she wrote on the night of the sixteenth, a day before the significant seventeenth.

April 16, 2017; 11:15 P.M. — I’m satisfied of this unrequited love. I’m happy this is all one-sided. I’m glad everything is ending before it can even truly begin. It would be easier for me to leave him who doesn’t even have the slightest knowledge of my existence, who doesn’t even know my sentiments, who doesn’t even miss me, yet alone think of me. It’s all good; perfect, even. A broken heart is better than two. At least there will be some times when I might let him and his strong hands put my weak heart back together and restore it to me. I’d rather have that than us both losing and scattering the pieces of our mutually shattered hearts. He must never be broken; I need to protect him from being so—I will take myself away from him. I’ve never been any happier to be in a love that’s unknown and unreturned. He will be happy, and I will be too. In the end, his happiness will always be mine.

“I had to leave the places and people I love, to be where I am and who I am today,” she exhaled. “It was tough, but thinking of those moments and people I held onto and appreciated… all of that kept me going.”

“Was it a happy one? I mean, did you find the happiness or ending you were looking for?”

“If I were to be dead honest, yes. More than happy, actually. I’m not just relieved, or satisfied; I’m overwhelmingly grateful. I earned the careers and lifestyle I aimed for. I managed to travel all over the world and see the places and people I’ve wanted to see. My soul roams free, finding home in the many corners of this earth. I’ve finally come home, and this time I know I’m not alone.”

The man was a grown man in a smart-casual attire, but he sure maintained the curious eyes of the child that he furtively kept in himself. Being under his scrutinizing eyes, she reminisced of the same intensity he gave back when they were still twenty-one and on the verge of growing up.

“But what about ‘him’ whom you left behind? Did you come to know him this time, maybe love him too, again?”

She picked up her teacup, providing a little wall between them both, and swallowed the remaining aromatic drops along with the thoughts she wanted to tell him ever since then.

I came to know him—you—but I don’t love him ‘again’. The feelings, which I harbored for you for all these years, never left me even when I left you back then. I know I was told to reach for the moon that I may land among the stars even if I failed to reach it. But I realized I had to reach beyond the moon—the sun, the Milky Way, the entire universe—because I wanted and needed to be worthy of my existence. I wanted and needed to prove myself to myself, to you and to everyone else.

“I did. And I’m happy with how we are right now, even if it seems like we’re back to zero this time round.  Though I’m not sure how my feelings are for him now, if I seek him as a friend or as a potential love interest.”

He seemed doubtful of her response hence did he hesitantly express his last thoughts: “So you’re happy now because you left him previously. But what if he’s the one who leaves this time? Would you still be happy?”

The clouds were emptying now as the pouring rain concluded to a light shower; likewise the people they were surrounded with under the alfresco umbrellas. She knew that she was prepared to answer this question. For the past years, concerned individuals would ask her the very same thing, and for this was she thankful. She herself would recite the words to her reflection every day, much like a prayerful mantra.

He caught a faint twinkle in her eye, a proof of which her answer would be echoing with conviction and it made him realize that those particular words to be said would be one of those things that would remind him of her.

“It won’t matter if he learns how I feel then or now, and yet doesn’t feel the same way. If leaving me would direct him to his happiness, then so be it. Perhaps we aren’t meant to love each other in this lifetime, any other lifetime, or even in parallel worlds, but I still am and would be happy about it. What’s greater than this feeling of being able to love someone so much? Like I said: in the end, his happiness will always be mine.”
There's an angel called wjh I've let into my life, and I have to let him go now.

My life is filled with endless apologies

Sincere and heartfelt promises that are shallow and empty

It's not a conscious thought
The words aren't spoken with known deceit or intentional mal-intent
But somewhere in my brain, buried in my subconscious, I know...
A self-sabotaging automated programming constantly running
And regardless of my cognitive actions or conscious thoughts, desires and intentions
My automated programming will find a way to inevitably run its code, follow its routines and execute its prime directive

And that's not a cop out
They're still my actions
Conscious or subconscious
Actions resulting from subconscious "thought" are those I'm too ignorant to see or too weak to change in that moment

I don't know what's worse
The subconscious lies and heaps of horse fertilizer, day in and day out, I shove down the throats of those who cross my path
Or the incessant feed of regurgitated words, phrases, thoughts, ideas and worst of all.... hopes.... that is being forced through my digestive track only to be excreted by my body and re-absorbed by my central nervous system


The worst trick of all

And it always works. Without fail
Because it psychologically and emotionally preys on everything I want to be
The Hope that THIS TIME I'll get it right
All those things inside of me
All of my
This time it won't be wasted
This time I'll come through. You can count on me!
I promise!
This time I'll be on time
This time I won't be late!
This time I'll meet expectations
This time I'll EXCEED expectations!
This time I won't let people down
This time I won't....
                                    ..... let



The saddest and ultimate cruelty of lies
Created by the Devil to prey on the weak and gullible
If Hell is living your worst day over and over again for eternity;
Then repeating the same detrimental behaviors over and over again for life, sustained in this perpetual motion by something so simple and harmless looking as "Hope" must fall at the Devil's hands

A wolf in sheep's clothing sprinkled in fairy dust
The worst of thoughts and beliefs are kept alive by Hope
Hope is a disease; a psychological virus
A damaged idea spreading from person to person, hijacking their system, and infecting their thoughts
For Hope is not a singular idea, isolated in seclusion, yet ultimately wrapped up and packaged out with other ideas
No, Hope is the vehicle that all thoughts that follow must ride in and by which be delivered
It is the Uber for ideas that follow
And like an unscrupulous and unpitying Uber driver,
Hope takes your brain to a secluded spot against its will and does as it so pleases
But unlike survivors of such horrific events
I, like a wide eyed doe in the headlights
I continuously expose myself to the exact same scenarios
over again

But not to worry

Hope will lose its magic
And the void created will be filled



And worst of all,


Denial is Hope's evil twin

The not so secret malicious trickster who, even though wears his emotions somewhat more clearly, is still capable of a lifetime of successful pranks

But unlike Hope, Denial doesn't always reveal his trick if the tricked has yet to become aware of the ruse
Instead, Denial will let them build
Stack upon stack
A colossal suspension bridge built and supported on Denial
And when I, with blind faith, cross that bridge
Putting everything and anything on the line, without question
That's when Denial delivers its reckoning
And in one all encompassing swoop it swallows me whole and any resemblance of "life" with it

Hope and Denial
My Atlantic and Pacific Oceans
and Me, a tiny island
Flanked on either side by the endless majesty of each
And like this planet,
I too,
Am a sphere spinning
A tiny island against the enormities of the the deep blue
A shipwrecked survivor
Floating on the driftwood of my subconscious
Left to the will of my environment
A helpless passenger on this ship of life
Constantly spinning between Hope and Denial
Some days calm and serene
Others, tormented by storms
Monster waves,
Flashes of lightning,
Ear shattering crackling explosions of thunder
And howling winds so fierce they must be the breath of God

And regardless of what scenario lays before me,
I'm left repeatedly with the same "choice" and same action

Enveloped with fear,
Hanging on for dear life,
Like a helpless and horrified child.....

On the verge of soiling my pants
Written: May 28, 2018

All rights reserved.
LUNA Jul 2018
i hate being so intense
i hate to love so hard
that i get mad at gravity
for making me fall so fast
and want to rip my heart
out of my chest.
i hate to think about you
since i wake up
till i fall asleep
and wish that you think of me
at least for a minute
so i don’t feel so stupid.
i hate to miss you
every second that
you’re not talking to me.
i hate to want to feel your touch so much
that i “accidentally” bump our shoulders
or our fingers
or our knees
or i poke your cheeks
or your arms
or your thighs.
i hate to relate every song about love.
i hate that you became my favorite flower.
i hate that your taking every piece of me
and making it about you.
i hate to still feel your kisses on my neck
or on my back
or on my lips
days after you actually kissed it.
i hate to smell your perfume out of nowhere
cause i know it’s just my head
sabotaging me.
i hate to find your hair strands on my pillow
and remind that you were part of this scenario for one night
and i hate that you seem to fit in it so perfectly.
i hate that i have so vivid in my memories
the face that you make
when i squeeze your waist
and you close your eyes
and scratch my back.
i hate to enjoy so much
the sounds that you make
when i’m kissing every inch of you.
i just hate everything
cause if i don’t
then i’ll love it
and it’ll be too late to control the damage.
Sachin Subedi May 2018
Learning and unlearning
Goes in full circle
Learning is the pathway anybody is supposed to take
Nowadays information is packaged in the way to us
That unlearning has also been one of the essentials
Learning neither has a start
Learning nor has an end
The learning to unlearn
Is a most nowadays
A kind of learning too

Learning is a process
A never ending process
But one supposes it to be an effect
Hence we aim learning
Supposedly has some destined milestone
So we take a step to learn

A scenario
Not perceiving that learning is a process
But a destiny to achieve
Leads to a controlled way of knowing
Only limited things
That we already planned to know
Here we know things
But only that are predestined
But don't learn about what is going around
And not learn what really learning process is

The controlled way of such learning
Leads to limited perspective
And limited ways of thinking
A scenario
What was to be learned
Was gathered previously
Hence the accomplishments such ways
Brings about the sense of pride
And oneself attaches to it
The attachment now leads the learning to stop
Gradually within oneself
As the long awaited accomplishment is achieved
There may not be room for further learning
As hard work has been done already

Creativity tends to vanish
Ego sets to feel in and within.
The time passes on
Some years go by
Time's they are changing
Oneself is in the same state of knowledge as before
No creativity endures
There resides the gap of the learning and knowledge
Brings about the gap in understanding

Now it demands to having the before learned unlearn
This only sets the room for learning
In the present and the time to come
Hence, a full circle
Of learning and unlearning
A fresh start
Trying to learn
Now the learning goes on and on
And on and on
It does not have a destiny to accomplish
It goes on to eternity
The true learning begins
The oneself now feels no pride
But humility and kindness in learning
Is the sole path of learning
A sole path to awakening.
Alaina Moore Jul 2018
Here it goes again,
trending on Insta and Facebook.
Where real awareness stems.
Mind the sarcasm,
social media’s a powerful tool
not knockin’ that.
I wonder though,
does the mind of the follower
understand the context of the hash?
Do they get it should be a call to action?
Not necessarily at the keyboard.
More like on the couch with their children,
Giving the conversation of consent.  
Most people do not even understand it by definition .
The meaning of yes and no convoluted by scenario.  
Bias boils over like milk and water over full flame.
The posts bubble out and stick to the side of the pan,
quickly drying; leaving their mark.
Until the soap and warm water flows over them,
and the steam evaporates the confessions.
Until they are again whispers we all hear and know.
It’s whispers from the alley ways,
and from married couples bedroom doors.
The woman is the property,  
the man is the proprietor.  
We refuse to address the real problems,
the failures of our up-bringers.
We point fingers and slay names
yet the statistics provide the truth.  
One in four for females, one in sixteen for males.
We all have been violated, slandered, and forced to say
Not going to say I did not share it,
I know the touch of unwanted hands,
the invasive *******.
All for the sake of the insanity,  
in repeating a useless gesture.
The only difference is
My hashtag went to my Senator.
Just found this, needs editing and punctuation but I liked it so I figured I would share it even as a draft.
1.30.19 //

The other morning I passed a woman
Walking her dog while on an errand run
I paused for a moment
Watching the strides, past the man sleeping
On what was supposed to be a vibrant, green bench
But instead remained chipped and faded
Coated with trash of yesterday’s passerby’s
I watched this woman trudge
Over leaves, purposely avoiding the
Cracks in the sidewalk
Her companion trotting five steps in front of her
She kept a watchful eye, looking upon him fondly
But remaining cautious and untrusting of those around
My mind reeled:
Where are you headed and where do you reside at night?
Are you in love? Haunted by the ghosts of your past lovers?
Where does your grief lie? And does it swallow you whole? Are you content or was waking from your bed near impossible this morning?

I often ask myself the same questions, but it’s less intrusive and more forgiving when looking at the scenario through the eyes of another.
Sachin Subedi Apr 2018
Has empowered humanity
Like humanity has been never been empowered
The concern
It has not only empowered humanity to a new level
Brings in the ill effects humanity might face
In the present and  future

The new concern for humanity
The use of technology in the wisest way possible
Earth and nature
The very root of humanity
Been in shade
Noblest thing that can be done
Is the wise use the of technological advancement
In the pathway of revival of nature
In the natural and earthly essence of life

Of course
In global scenario there are corporates
Big hulks
That only go for accumulating more and more
Whose concern
Is not the nature and humanity

Now the question arises
The history of humanity
We crave to discuss about now
Has it the future time frame long enough?
As the past time frame
We are talking about in interest
Or the ignorance and unconscious humanity
Lead to the path of eliminating its own race?
FlipThePoet Jan 25
I'm beginning to
realize that
I'm complicated.
I laugh easily
get mad easier.
joke a lot
holding on to emotions longer.

I'm beginning to
realize that I over think things
Zigzagging through different scenario.
Not stopping to underthink things
disbelieving that the good will come tomorrow.

The truth is I'm fragile
I haven't yet acknowledged it,
hoping I could piece things out
finding a piece that completes me.

Last night I talked to a real one
didn't spill the real thing.
it hard letting real ones go
especially those I hold close
the relationship ain't the same as it use to be.
Theshygirl Oct 2018
Far too many scenario's
There are good ones
and bad ones
and those in between.
I can't comprehend them all
so my mind chooses for me
and maybe I shouldn't let it
Because it seems to favor
the worst of them
the ones that twist
my already twisted stomach
and shake
my already shaky hands.
From time to time
A bright, and happy scenario
crosses my mind
and for a minute
I get to imagine
something good.
But those moments
only last for a little while
before my mind
drags me
to the worst case scenario's

The brain our main ***** has the power to change any situation.its a deceitful weapon use it with caution ..Use it tactfully...we are our own remote control....04.05.2019
Empire Sep 20
It’s right there!
I can see it, smell it, taste it
But I cannot indulge in it
No, that would be wrong!
Of course!
And I do no wrong...
That’s what they say, anyway
They don’t even know I crave it.
Every possible scenario
Every method
Every option
To keep it secret yet give in
Running over and over in my head.
I just need to try
Can I, please?
Sure, you look down upon it
But why can’t you just let me try?
I’m getting really desperate
The desire hurts
Because it just might
Even just barely
Release me from these chains
It might ease the pain
It’s nearly worth the risk
Adya Jha Nov 2018
Here is an alternate scenario
Since the ideal one is too clichéd
10 years later you walk into a party
With a girl who isn’t perfect but you love her for who she is
And I look and wonder why you couldn’t love my imperfections like that
Even though you told me I was beautiful at my weakest
Why couldn’t you love me for it?
I see you two dancing in the low light
And I look towards my best friend
And she says **** it man
And I say yeah man, **** it all
And I get drunk even though alcohol is overrated and pepsi is much better
I do it because the haziness makes it funny instead of heartbreaking
And I’m laughing
Dancing on my own
A complete mess
And then I start talking about how I never got guys
And then I start crying because I want to be her
Gosh, I want to be her and alcohol doesn’t help at all
And my best friend has to take me home and tug me in
I wake up the next morning
We’re back to who we were
I never say how much I love you
You never realise how much I love you
And I get back to saying
“You know, I wonder what it feels like to be in love with someone who loves you back”
Maybe you loved me back in an alternate universe
Andrew Rueter Mar 2018
We speak the explicit language of damage
Whether it's through anguish or famine
It only takes a little while to examine
Until we learn the language well
And eventually become fluent
To create this worldwide hell
Where the warfare is incongruent

We speak this language for many reasons
We speak this language through every season
The dialect varies from country to country
But all that really matters is who's hunting
The end result is the same
For damage done before
We inflict retributive pain
To even the damage score

Damage lowers our health
Damage increases their wealth
Damage puts us on the shelf
Until we damage ourself

The damage is done
So we must run
But at some point we turn around
Planting our feet into the ground
Becoming the damage cause
Doing what we've learned
We attribute this to our flaws
Not caring who gets burned

There is a damage sandwich
Within our damaged land's width
We're caught between being imposed on
And becoming oppressors
You're either forced to keep your clothes on
Or become an undresser
Perceptions of greater and lesser
Further complicate the scenario
We receive them through our stereo
To look down on those of other barrios
All of that damage can be parried though
If we work as a team
Better yet a species
To live in a utopian dream
Instead of our feces
JB Claywell Apr 20
I held the smallest fragments
of what had once been my dear friend
in my hand.
Never had I held the cremated remains
of another human being.
I found it to be rather benign, physically.
Mentally though,
I imagined that I found it distasteful,
but not really all that much.
My mind softened the scenario further.
I imagined that I was holding in my palm,
what was once my poet-friend’s thumb.
Now, I had this ethereal thumb
to further, fashionably so,
guide my own pens or pencils across pages
yet to be written,
upon verses as yet unknown.
I took great solace in that thought.

David William Thomas’ thumbprint
is on these pages,
ever so gently,
the ink that lays across the face
of this simple piece
of my own soul.

We spiraled what remained of our kindred
across the open spaces
of a modest Missouri wood
as the moon rose above;
the woodpeckers,
the coyotes heedless of our intrusion.

Gates locked against us,
we circumvented their blockade
in the names of sage-smoke and brotherhood,
of mentors and men bent on Buddhist
benevolent remembrance.

We set fire to kindling,
remembered our fallen friend
in a way that he,
above all others,
would have appreciated the most.

In a place called Sunbridge,
a path of passage to a greater plane of being,
poets held sway over all but nature.

Our altars were The Earth,
our robes,
vestments of denim, canvas, and leather
were holy.

Even the invading Conservation Agent
deserved less than the truth,
because he was inherently ignorant
to this event’s significance
in our collective lives at the time.

lies and half-truths were served;
we escaped unscathed.

The lilacs knew,
but remained silent.

Only the tiger spoke.  


© P&ZPublications 2019
For David.
Once more.
Camilla Peeters May 2018
I have not yet told you about my forest. Being an inhabitant of the city myself, I am continuously surprised of the frequency with which nature comes looking for me while I sleep. In a more reasonable scenario, it is in fact myself that looks for nature, but then I would have to admit that I am lacking something in the city and I drown myself in pride far too often to admit that. That forest is not complete either way, every colour is beyond salvation, the black and white ferns wave at me, wearily. I too am not complete, my hands wave and mow, but my vision fails me. I do not have control, I am merely a puppet at the hands of an unknown force. I feel my existence, but cannot lead my own body anywhere. I stand wearily in black and white. Then colour flutters into my dream. A fiery red dress flutters around the fragile body of a young woman. She dares skipping frolicking and young in between the dark basks. I vaguely remember a deer and the fiery red in a previous dream. I panic, though too late. My gear is aimed at her too. If red was alive, it would be the colour I felt most sorry for. Dear Red, I regret. I lift my gun and hunt the young woman down.
eight nights (part 5)
yogirlturkey Feb 13
I've come to the realization that I'm not good enough for anyone,
& that everything that's good in my life I end up ******* it up.
What's the point of trying if I'll still feel like **** after ?
Honestly, I can't do it but somehow I end up being here the next day, though I don't want to be here.
Nothing ever good in my life stays, so I just want to give up & stop trying, but I want to be happy though I can't seem to get there.
I just feel like **** all the time, & I'm always clueless.
I need a timeout from everyone & everything; start from zero, but I can't just ignore the past, though I wish that was a possibility.
Everything good ends up leaving me, but why ?! I need these people, but instead they leave, but not because they want to, it's because they have to, & it fucken *****, because it hurts like a *****.
I'm trying to be a better me, but it's too hard with all these people judging.
A scenario of me taking a bunch of pills & going to the hospital just went through my head, & honestly, in this moment I could care less.
2-11-19 / 6:31 p.m.
angele Dec 2018
when did i lose you?
when did you decide you weren’t mine?
it was like falling asleep, slowly, and then all at once when you decided you couldn’t be broken by me again.

in this scenario, i was your hammer. i was the one who crushed your heart, over and over.
until you couldn’t take anymore. so you decided that living without me and my love was better then living with it but always having the sadness on your mind, like a boulder crushing you slowly, then all at once as the item holding its weight breaks down upon you.

you told me once i always put you to the side
and that you let me walk all over you.
is that true ?
how did i do to you what cruel actions were inflicted upon myself?
how did i become this person?

i learned this human tendency from a book we read in my english class, that those who have been oppressed, subconsciously or consciously oppress others.

this is what i did to you
and i am undeniably culpable.
so i am sorry.

truly my love.
jas Jun 17
this narrative has had its wear and tear
down to the last page that slips effortlessly off the book
pulling back strings to fit the ending
live action marionette

indulging in countless ways to flee
how could I ever?
eyes like a hawk vigourously watching over me
planning to escape is mind altering

hearts injecting blood a million miles per second
hold my breath as the goosebumps trickle under my spine
fingers twitching with rage
it's time to break out of this cage

sweat seeps off my face
leaving a line of dirt
momentarily, battle scars

I knew this day would come
just sooner than expected
but what did I expect?

existing, just barely
imprisoned in this jest of reality
caught between the societies realm of a fantasy
or breaking the barriers and taking a leap

numerous routes that divide into alternating states
yet the predominant remains
intimidation haunts me
crowding my thoughts

I always thought hell existed deep in my mentality
these dark memories combating to come to the surface
until one day I blinked and realized
hell is neighboring me

hell is leisures from the past that overstays their welcome
hell is energy deteriorating in souls you've attached to
hell is being starved of communication
hell is the strings penetrating your every move
hell is receiving no feedback from the energy you put out
hell is taking your last breath every day just to wake up to the same old *******
hell is repeating "go f### yourself", and its never going to stop

left for dead
in dire need of an escape
this is me sending a signal
sos, ... save me

planning this scheme for too long takes a toll on my soul
confusing reality with a dream
is this authentic or a figment of my imagination
am I hallucinating?

waited ages for an escape
overwhelmed over things I have no command over
will this justify the end?
and leave no cliffhangers to deal with repercussions
that is my chaotic life

an arrogant scenario to arise from
B E Ragland Oct 20
we don't believe in believing.
we believed in you and, well...

we have a reason to be all teeth
for any and all demagogues
dreamimg themselves into demi-gods
some weekend next February.

we are the stars that have been dead
for millenia,
but still make this feel insignificant.

we are the new constellations
traced by a future us.

we are the deepening ethos which lifted them up to rot
in the lofty quantum myth of consciousness with the rest of us.

we are entangled with the ever-blossoming constant
we watch like a top spinning ad nauseum.

we are indifferent to your opinions and principles
and tired of your excuses for not "getting it".
we view that **** as background music for the apocalypse
unraveling before our collective nakedness.

we are ******* hostile.

we are clenched fists ****** to clouds
after a rousing battle speech
collapses into echos we weaponize
on accident like Mingus on a piano.

we are as colossal as the fossilized intimacy you lost
on the blackened avenues of past uses
of compassion as a mask.

we are starving for the space
inside of which you remain just to atrophy.

we are the cloven hooves of crooked
discipline dancing to sounds of
splashing gasoline.

we are the mushroom clouds crowning
our boundless potential.

before anything else, we are you.
you're worst-case scenario
unearthed by the prayers to float off
into the fade-away before a pretty credit roll;

we are catastrophe, but we don't have to be.
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