"separatist" poems - Hello Poetry

"separatist" poems

She was torn apart Unchasteness surrounding her But her God could see Her virtuous soul underneath ~ So He bestowed her With forgiveness ~ And she became a separatist Isolating from critics Making her way through And accepting the mistakes She grew stronger Each day

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May 9, 2014

May 9, 2014 at 12:28 PM UTC

She was torn apart Unchasteness surrounding her But her God could see Her virtuous soul underneath ~ So He bestowed her With forgiveness ~ And she became a separatist Isolating from critics Making her way through And accepting the mistakes She grew stronger Each day

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"The global bull market has continued its seemingly relentless advance, unchanged by geopolitical concerns…….." • The Israeli-Hamas conflict now blazing in Gaza, Palestine, two military forces locked in a deadly struggle to the end, killing and maiming thousands of ordinary citizens. • Malaysia Airlines flight 17 blasted out of a clear blue Ukraine sky by the Bus surface to air missile unleashed by the Pro-Russian Separatists killing 298 unsuspecting, innocent, international travellers. Culpability denied by all. • Anwar Al Awlaki, the American born Cleric, directing clandestine terror attacks and assassination by Al Qaeda beyond the Middle east into Asia and Europe. • Deposed President, Mohammed Morsi’s Muslim Brotherhood, responsible for terrorist activities including multiple car bombings throughout Egypt. • President Bashar Assad of the Alawite minority, an offshoot of Syria’s Shiite religion, waging religious genocide against his own nations people and now in open conflict with the Muslim uprising Sunni forces of the new Isis Caliphate. • The beheadings, slaughter and terror unleashed by the Sunni, Isis Caliphate uprising rampaging through Iraq. • Russia’s sudden invasion and forceful annexation of the Crimea. • Russia’s brutal pressure on the sovereignty of the Ukraine through its clandestine weaponry supply and sponsorship of the Pro-Russian Separatist Forces occupying the nations East. The Middle East is now…an Apocalypse. This epoch of cruel waste Where man kills man For God and gold, For power’s lust. Where the Sword of Calamity Wields destruction and death On those who can least afford it By they who should never impose it. **In the face of all this …..an unbelievable prioritization with this headline quote from today’s NZ Herald…. “There are financial risks to be endlessly jumping at shadows…to overreact to market noise!"** UNBELIEVABLE!!!! M. Auckland, NEW ZEALAND 31 July 2014

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Jul 30, 2014

Jul 30, 2014 at 4:59 PM UTC

Perspectives of Priority

"The global bull market has continued its seemingly relentless advance, unchanged by geopolitical concerns…….." • The Israeli-Hamas conflict now blazing in Gaza, Palestine, two military forces locked in a deadly struggle to the end, killing and maiming thousands of ordinary citizens. • Malaysia Airlines flight 17 blasted out of a clear blue Ukraine sky by the Bus surface to air missile unleashed by the Pro-Russian Separatists killing 298 unsuspecting, innocent, international travellers. Culpability denied by all. • Anwar Al Awlaki, the American born Cleric, directing clandestine terror attacks and assassination by Al Qaeda beyond the Middle east into Asia and Europe. • Deposed President, Mohammed Morsi’s Muslim Brotherhood, responsible for terrorist activities including multiple car bombings throughout Egypt. • President Bashar Assad of the Alawite minority, an offshoot of Syria’s Shiite religion, waging religious genocide against his own nations people and now in open conflict with the Muslim uprising Sunni forces of the new Isis Caliphate. • The beheadings, slaughter and terror unleashed by the Sunni, Isis Caliphate uprising rampaging through Iraq. • Russia’s sudden invasion and forceful annexation of the Crimea. • Russia’s brutal pressure on the sovereignty of the Ukraine through its clandestine weaponry supply and sponsorship of the Pro-Russian Separatist Forces occupying the nations East. The Middle East is now…an Apocalypse. This epoch of cruel waste Where man kills man For God and gold, For power’s lust. Where the Sword of Calamity Wields destruction and death On those who can least afford it By they who should never impose it. **In the face of all this …..an unbelievable prioritization with this headline quote from today’s NZ Herald…. “There are financial risks to be endlessly jumping at shadows…to overreact to market noise!"** UNBELIEVABLE!!!! M. Auckland, NEW ZEALAND 31 July 2014

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Feeling like aged bottles of wine. Tarty, tangy, ale and rye. Backwashed at the bottom, bared half inch of DNA collecting bacterium by the decade. Each floating strand archetypal on it’s own. Like separatist fans of gold, separatist fans of chrome. Extricate model minerals alter and contrast on their own. Earth maintenance, sustenance, nourishment and remotely beyond consternation. A lacking ruinith; she know not currency. A value made thus child; when met bereavement, ruthless and reaved. Long gone; alas final crestfallen gives. Impetus formith she grooves; in smirched tarnish banks we shall live.

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Sep 20, 2010

Sep 20, 2010 at 12:50 AM UTC

Tarnished Earth, She Is Longly Fed Up

Feeling like aged bottles of wine. Tarty, tangy, ale and rye. Backwashed at the bottom, bared half inch of DNA collecting bacterium by the decade. Each floating strand archetypal on it’s own. Like separatist fans of gold, separatist fans of chrome. Extricate model minerals alter and contrast on their own. Earth maintenance, sustenance, nourishment and remotely beyond consternation. A lacking ruinith; she know not currency. A value made thus child; when met bereavement, ruthless and reaved. Long gone; alas final crestfallen gives. Impetus formith she grooves; in smirched tarnish banks we shall live.

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What do you perceive? Is your god the only God in existence And out of eight billion HUMAN BEINGS On this mighty planet You and a mere one and a half billion humans That follow said deity Are the only people on this earth that matter? Those bombs that shook Their expendable existence Did you feel it in your heart The fist of your intolerant god That tore their worlds apart... And no please don't perceive this With your separatist heart intact Your fairy tales Have all gone to hell What more horrors will they hatch...

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Mar 23, 2016

Mar 23, 2016 at 7:11 AM UTC

EXPENDABLE EXISTENCE

What do you perceive? Is your god the only God in existence And out of eight billion HUMAN BEINGS On this mighty planet You and a mere one and a half billion humans That follow said deity Are the only people on this earth that matter? Those bombs that shook Their expendable existence Did you feel it in your heart The fist of your intolerant god That tore their worlds apart... And no please don't perceive this With your separatist heart intact Your fairy tales Have all gone to hell What more horrors will they hatch...

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Atop the frail ego she mounts her merciless machine gun with which she mows down any speckle of personality that dares flicker amongst her immediate surroundings, until only her presence alone can remain untarnished and unfettered by sadistic, sardonically summarized ridicule, luminous and majestically radiating with solitary supremacy. Oh, the splendorous grandeur of self-indicted superiority, the rush of power and authority from diminishing another's essence with ruthless categorical association, the incomparable ecstasy of using their own positive attributes as their rudimentary flaws. Viscerally volatile, the cocking of the mocking gun's hammer is to be recognized as the phrase "You're just trying to be______". This is critical, for all too well she knows to a certainty that at the most essential level, one is only simply trying to be. And when you attack a person's will to try, their will to be, then you are taking aim at the one vital aspect of their existence which they hold any discernible dominion over: their character. The slaying is heinous and orgasmically fulfilling, for how can the perennial, separatist worship of Self be indulged in among so many of these "others"? But oh how exhausting it must be, the perpetually cyclic nature of the task. How can she ***** a light that doesn't exude from a distant source, but is a brother beam of the source they share? How does she extinguish the reflection of a flame off the water? Like fireflies on summer nights they disappear only to reappear again, somewhere else, reminding her of the irrevocable, irreducible power of being born and reborn again in the new moment. The self-aware ******** audacious enough to love themselves. How much of it do they really think they can withstand? Reload.

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Nov 14, 2015

Nov 14, 2015 at 8:53 AM UTC

joshua-paul-watson

Atop the frail ego she mounts her merciless machine gun with which she mows down any speckle of personality that dares flicker amongst her immediate surroundings, until only her presence alone can remain untarnished and unfettered by sadistic, sardonically summarized ridicule, luminous and majestically radiating with solitary supremacy. Oh, the splendorous grandeur of self-indicted superiority, the rush of power and authority from diminishing another's essence with ruthless categorical association, the incomparable ecstasy of using their own positive attributes as their rudimentary flaws. Viscerally volatile, the cocking of the mocking gun's hammer is to be recognized as the phrase "You're just trying to be______". This is critical, for all too well she knows to a certainty that at the most essential level, one is only simply trying to be. And when you attack a person's will to try, their will to be, then you are taking aim at the one vital aspect of their existence which they hold any discernible dominion over: their character. The slaying is heinous and orgasmically fulfilling, for how can the perennial, separatist worship of Self be indulged in among so many of these "others"? But oh how exhausting it must be, the perpetually cyclic nature of the task. How can she ***** a light that doesn't exude from a distant source, but is a brother beam of the source they share? How does she extinguish the reflection of a flame off the water? Like fireflies on summer nights they disappear only to reappear again, somewhere else, reminding her of the irrevocable, irreducible power of being born and reborn again in the new moment. The self-aware ******** audacious enough to love themselves. How much of it do they really think they can withstand? Reload.

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some of the dryness will bleach from pithing your noetic strands and the rest, a **** prinked rind deluded. i dip cupped hands into the lowlands, scraping fractal mold flakes captioned, answers in light crowded lenses. cubic rift, that, i will toss adoration engines, in the end, the goddess of substance will not react. not retrace, not the rift. mortaled caper, inflection of the flats, grinded reactions. grinding thoughts grounded. scribbled to-dos spreading forth, immurdered. tokenized spice cabinets, enter rift refuge. the caper collapses on molar-novas, solar lepidoptera folding in your hair. the sweat-between-us hive. the separatist mind. salt mines alarm us, a subject deepened between two gestures. have you the stratum of intention? germinal grains, embryonic clock tower - mineral lies don timescales tucked in our hereafter mattress. i will deathlessly dry with a towel unless i’m showering with it, a full commit to the status kiss. [after all that, you still love me, in the bedlam trees the choral key, the old oak door embroidery are pieces of me scattered (spelled) naturally.]

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Feb 26, 2021

Feb 26, 2021 at 12:11 PM UTC

afterallthat youst(illloveme)

some of the dryness will bleach from pithing your noetic strands and the rest, a **** prinked rind deluded. i dip cupped hands into the lowlands, scraping fractal mold flakes captioned, answers in light crowded lenses. cubic rift, that, i will toss adoration engines, in the end, the goddess of substance will not react. not retrace, not the rift. mortaled caper, inflection of the flats, grinded reactions. grinding thoughts grounded. scribbled to-dos spreading forth, immurdered. tokenized spice cabinets, enter rift refuge. the caper collapses on molar-novas, solar lepidoptera folding in your hair. the sweat-between-us hive. the separatist mind. salt mines alarm us, a subject deepened between two gestures. have you the stratum of intention? germinal grains, embryonic clock tower - mineral lies don timescales tucked in our hereafter mattress. i will deathlessly dry with a towel unless i’m showering with it, a full commit to the status kiss. [after all that, you still love me, in the bedlam trees the choral key, the old oak door embroidery are pieces of me scattered (spelled) naturally.]

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flaccid pacifists symbolizing sexism single-mindedly corrupting hostile youth ruining bullying and facilitating inbreeding through top-down initiatives laced with bath salts the pussify-ing of America has begun – tear soaked cheeks distort with rage at the blatant separatist ideals propagated creating not one nation under rule of law, but many angry independent states bent on torture laws and privatized prison for profit shareholders holding gavels and lives in an unjust system of justification ……they deserve this – broken-hearted mothers line razor-wire fences defenseless against the tyrannical bureaucracy beholden to the loved one wrongly incarcerated banging bloodied fists against walls that hear no cries, defeated, they slip into damaged Datsun’s disappearing freeway anonymity is the course of the day –

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May 14, 2015

May 14, 2015 at 4:49 PM UTC

garbage to the "nth"

flaccid pacifists symbolizing sexism single-mindedly corrupting hostile youth ruining bullying and facilitating inbreeding through top-down initiatives laced with bath salts the pussify-ing of America has begun – tear soaked cheeks distort with rage at the blatant separatist ideals propagated creating not one nation under rule of law, but many angry independent states bent on torture laws and privatized prison for profit shareholders holding gavels and lives in an unjust system of justification ……they deserve this – broken-hearted mothers line razor-wire fences defenseless against the tyrannical bureaucracy beholden to the loved one wrongly incarcerated banging bloodied fists against walls that hear no cries, defeated, they slip into damaged Datsun’s disappearing freeway anonymity is the course of the day –

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Don't make others feel bad For the mistakes you made Knocked her up got married Didn't want to bring a ******* kid into the world Don't even love one another rushed into bs Live solo life enjoying single living Drank for fun you drank to avoid drama Now sober living keep bring up the pass Two friends different paths One wild young free The other enslaved to a wife has no say She hates me prolly cheating on you anyway Blame guilt not ready don't want the mess on your hands Single life not going to settle down time will come till then not living in denial

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Mar 5, 2013

Mar 5, 2013 at 9:01 PM UTC

Don't make others feel bad For the mistakes you made Knocked her up got married Didn't want to bring a ******* kid into the world Don't even love one another rushed into bs Live solo life enjoying single living Drank for fun you drank to avoid drama Now sober living keep bring up the pass Two friends different paths One wild young free The other enslaved to a wife has no say She hates me prolly cheating on you anyway Blame guilt not ready don't want the mess on your hands Single life not going to settle down time will come till then not living in denial

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Neath the guise of ever steeping guidelines we singers of verse between psalm and treachery Praise the separatist of civil ambiguity callously staged liars set to remark Each in a mutter, the scoffing of one's own self undoing torn stitch and staple upon which we serve the bread of this very table Fictitious fables spoke then wrote in fashion to mid-life moans, beggar harken sonnets made of grovels Parading effigies proudly in the swoll of ignorance tossing all the while handfuls of ancestral ashes

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Mar 12, 2013

Mar 12, 2013 at 5:07 PM UTC

scipio-africanus

Neath the guise of ever steeping guidelines we singers of verse between psalm and treachery Praise the separatist of civil ambiguity callously staged liars set to remark Each in a mutter, the scoffing of one's own self undoing torn stitch and staple upon which we serve the bread of this very table Fictitious fables spoke then wrote in fashion to mid-life moans, beggar harken sonnets made of grovels Parading effigies proudly in the swoll of ignorance tossing all the while handfuls of ancestral ashes

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The first time you saw me you were staring at me face blank with a big question Where are you from? Thailand Japan South Korea Singapore Vietnam China, I am from China. I didn’t wait for you to get stuck in an endless abyss of map search Ah, China! Then you are suddenly reminded of an obselete word active in nowhere except your kitchen (and perhaps your GI tract) Painfully welcoming as you take a closer look at me now I felt like a ******* ****** mind frozen against your fierce gaze Though all you did was to shake my hand gently and briefly like you were just acquainted with me A slight trace of uncertainty flashed across your face as your eyes rested upon mine with a voice saying “Nice to meet you.” The second time we met you were smiling at me fighting the best you can to refresh memories about me Which part of China? Echoes of media reveberate beneath the screen So you’ve heard of the stories The rich east booming with red captitalism and the impoverished west ocassionally annoyed by separatist troublemakers But I am from the part of China with a past too glorious to be ignored yet a present too obscure to be proud One second of repositioning later I heard myself saying I am from the city of ancient China Then you were struck by thoughtful silence That was made of artificial admiration and numb alienation a secret nowhere to hide And I smiled back with real pains

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Jul 22, 2014

Jul 22, 2014 at 10:55 AM UTC

The first time you saw me you were staring at me face blank with a big question Where are you from? Thailand Japan South Korea Singapore Vietnam China, I am from China. I didn’t wait for you to get stuck in an endless abyss of map search Ah, China! Then you are suddenly reminded of an obselete word active in nowhere except your kitchen (and perhaps your GI tract) Painfully welcoming as you take a closer look at me now I felt like a ******* ****** mind frozen against your fierce gaze Though all you did was to shake my hand gently and briefly like you were just acquainted with me A slight trace of uncertainty flashed across your face as your eyes rested upon mine with a voice saying “Nice to meet you.” The second time we met you were smiling at me fighting the best you can to refresh memories about me Which part of China? Echoes of media reveberate beneath the screen So you’ve heard of the stories The rich east booming with red captitalism and the impoverished west ocassionally annoyed by separatist troublemakers But I am from the part of China with a past too glorious to be ignored yet a present too obscure to be proud One second of repositioning later I heard myself saying I am from the city of ancient China Then you were struck by thoughtful silence That was made of artificial admiration and numb alienation a secret nowhere to hide And I smiled back with real pains

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In a broad kindred of spirits collide, Too each is each to own and then we reply. For where art thou darker days? Tucked behind us, spread like paste. Beneath a new chapter is where it lays. A folding eyelid above beholds. Temperatures swell, tempation creeps, weather is cold. Are we not our own or do we just do as we are told? Again into the fold, clouds gather ahead, I clinch tight to my soul. It's just that Im really not a good person. But I keep following this glow. Into the dark again I go. A strange connection between what you consider real or make belief. A thin rope dangles above from the fall that balanced and centered me. For all that I appreciate and sense to be. For life finally making sense to me. Im circled by Death, teaching me something I have yet to be. Echo knows eternity. A perfect gift from me to you from the lights of which you were meant to be. You are to your ability, able to be. Deep within your reach is where your meant to be...

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Feb 28, 2017

Feb 28, 2017 at 9:46 PM UTC

Separatist of light

In a broad kindred of spirits collide, Too each is each to own and then we reply. For where art thou darker days? Tucked behind us, spread like paste. Beneath a new chapter is where it lays. A folding eyelid above beholds. Temperatures swell, tempation creeps, weather is cold. Are we not our own or do we just do as we are told? Again into the fold, clouds gather ahead, I clinch tight to my soul. It's just that Im really not a good person. But I keep following this glow. Into the dark again I go. A strange connection between what you consider real or make belief. A thin rope dangles above from the fall that balanced and centered me. For all that I appreciate and sense to be. For life finally making sense to me. Im circled by Death, teaching me something I have yet to be. Echo knows eternity. A perfect gift from me to you from the lights of which you were meant to be. You are to your ability, able to be. Deep within your reach is where your meant to be...

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*and he said: there are plenty of neo-Nazis in Poland... and i said: i won't even cite what's pop in England; comparing Poles to rats i guess i have to give you a sieg heil salute to keep it chequers cheap and ask William how he felt anally ******* Harold's merry men.* it would be so good to include the good people in the whole affair... never mind the ******** was always the punk pop hit for *** pistols... when the self-titled rock metal album wasn't... call it subterfuge, i just call it subhuman... but that's what defined radio 1 when Iron Maiden hit it with: bring your daughter to the slaughter... chappies gaffed and choked at their no. 1... the latter rejected, glorified Rousseau and later ****** gassed at Ypres stiff from Mustard... later justified at Auschwitz... here comes a beginning, former colonial powers sticking to being the vocabulary powers of interests, not to be done... god those English colonialists are fake nervous, with the Irish glorification anti Northern Eire... i look at it as it is: ****** was gassed... what's the horror of Auschwitz? Himmler or the Third ***** tango? the man was gassed in the trenches... why is it that you can't craft a Dracula from him? oh wait... now i know... because he experienced the same as his victims... and as the Jewish poet Tuwim explained: he too, was human.... it's funny how nothing mythological will come from ****** i too count myself human... your idiotic far-left vocabulary will only assert a following of so-many hungers readied to engage in protest - i don't know why far-left politics is always eager to make people revise their vocabulary, while the far-right politics is always eager to make people revise their actions... well... as the vermin of England said... you're never too sure whether you're drinking a pint of Guinness on a friendly footing with the Irish, or whether the ales are out for separatist conversation with the Scots.

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Aug 16, 2016

Aug 16, 2016 at 10:40 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

subhumans among us

*and he said: there are plenty of neo-Nazis in Poland... and i said: i won't even cite what's pop in England; comparing Poles to rats i guess i have to give you a sieg heil salute to keep it chequers cheap and ask William how he felt anally ******* Harold's merry men.* it would be so good to include the good people in the whole affair... never mind the ******** was always the punk pop hit for *** pistols... when the self-titled rock metal album wasn't... call it subterfuge, i just call it subhuman... but that's what defined radio 1 when Iron Maiden hit it with: bring your daughter to the slaughter... chappies gaffed and choked at their no. 1... the latter rejected, glorified Rousseau and later ****** gassed at Ypres stiff from Mustard... later justified at Auschwitz... here comes a beginning, former colonial powers sticking to being the vocabulary powers of interests, not to be done... god those English colonialists are fake nervous, with the Irish glorification anti Northern Eire... i look at it as it is: ****** was gassed... what's the horror of Auschwitz? Himmler or the Third ***** tango? the man was gassed in the trenches... why is it that you can't craft a Dracula from him? oh wait... now i know... because he experienced the same as his victims... and as the Jewish poet Tuwim explained: he too, was human.... it's funny how nothing mythological will come from ****** i too count myself human... your idiotic far-left vocabulary will only assert a following of so-many hungers readied to engage in protest - i don't know why far-left politics is always eager to make people revise their vocabulary, while the far-right politics is always eager to make people revise their actions... well... as the vermin of England said... you're never too sure whether you're drinking a pint of Guinness on a friendly footing with the Irish, or whether the ales are out for separatist conversation with the Scots.

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Shall I deny The shadows inside Until those shadows fade Or bleed them out Let my darkness shout Define my heart's dismay Shall I despair The judgmental stare For the things I truly believe That are not aligned With the separatist mind Or a people no longer free...

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Mar 20, 2016

Mar 20, 2016 at 8:48 AM UTC

SHADOW OF DISMAY

Shall I deny The shadows inside Until those shadows fade Or bleed them out Let my darkness shout Define my heart's dismay Shall I despair The judgmental stare For the things I truly believe That are not aligned With the separatist mind Or a people no longer free...

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Well Well Well..... It’s CLEAR The HARDEST SELL... Is Where REALITY Dwells... !!! But It Does Seem... That Media Teams... Choose To Sell REALITY... When It Brings TRAGEDIES... !!! Whilst Selling of Souls... DOESN'T Seem So Hard... If You LACK Heart... And CHOOSE To Go... Where Corruption Flows... From Dating To Playing... Like... Michael Clayton... !!! The Hard Sell’s Stationed... In... " SAFER Locations "... Than Those Now Relating... In... United Nations... UNITED... Yeah RIGHT... !?!?! They’ve SOLD THAT LIE... For A VERY LONG Time... !!! So Now What Sells... Is SEPARATIST Smells... That Are Hitting HARD... Just Like TRUMP CARDS... And BREXIT' Hearts... Who Weren’t So Smart... !!!! When They CHOSE To Mark... A Vote That Marked... A Wish To DEPART... From The Euro Class... !!! Class Is Now COLDER... Than Those Who Bend OVER... !!! To SELL With EASE... Their ********** Type Deeds... !!! Now Selling Some **** ... ISN'T Really Hard... !!! Cos’ ******** KNOW... How To Sell Their Soul... To Get THAT Dough... !!! PROFESSIONAL Ho’s... Now CLEARLY Show... How Easy It Is... To Sell Their HOLES... !!! HOLES In Their SOUL... !!! And A Whole Lot MORE... !!! I KNOW... I KNOW... It’s A TOUGH Old Road... When Your Dough Runs LOW... !!! But Come On Folks... Some of You Have Sold... Some Pretty BAD Jokes... In Things You Now Quote... !!! That PROVES That Your Mouths... Are In NEED of SOAP... !!!!! Because What’s SELLING NOW... Is WORSE Than Foul... !!! In FACT IT’s WORSE... Than The Type Of Verse... That’s FILLED With Words... That Makes Some CURSE... !!! Because It’s PERVERSE... And SOLD To The Herds... Who Prefer The... “ Soft Sell “... In Other Words FICTION... That SELLS The POSITION... of NOT Having To LISTEN... To The Type of Diction... That Deals In... REALISM... !!!!! So DEFIES Conscription... And NEW WORLD Type Visions... That Should NOT Be Winning... !!! But That’s The... “ HARD SELL “... !!! That Now Gets Me To Thinking... That Things That I’ve Written... HAVEN'T Sold THAT WELL... !!!!! Because of The Mission... That Says...“ What The Hell ? “... To People Who CHOOSE... To Follow FAKE Crews... Whose Artistic Moves... SELL OUT Just Like The FOOLS... Whose Gold Is FILLED With Holes... That Eventually Shows... That Selling Out Goes... With Selling What’s WEAK... For The Dumbed Down Sheep... !!!!! So It’s NOT HARD To See... The Things That SELL WELL... !!! FALLACIES That FEED GREED... And ***** That’s Ready... For... *********** !!! These Are The Things... That KEEP Selling Like STINGS... !!! Because Where They Dwell... Is A Place... FAR AWAY... From Art That’s STRAIGHT... !!! That Marketeers Quell... Because They Can Tell... That Humanity... Would Rather...... "NOT SEE"...... Too Much REALITY... Because It REALLY IS... ... “ The HARDEST Sell ! “...

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Jul 29, 2021

Jul 29, 2021 at 11:27 PM UTC

'The Hardest Sell' ... A Poem written by Big Virge 14/11/2018

Well Well Well..... It’s CLEAR The HARDEST SELL... Is Where REALITY Dwells... !!! But It Does Seem... That Media Teams... Choose To Sell REALITY... When It Brings TRAGEDIES... !!! Whilst Selling of Souls... DOESN'T Seem So Hard... If You LACK Heart... And CHOOSE To Go... Where Corruption Flows... From Dating To Playing... Like... Michael Clayton... !!! The Hard Sell’s Stationed... In... " SAFER Locations "... Than Those Now Relating... In... United Nations... UNITED... Yeah RIGHT... !?!?! They’ve SOLD THAT LIE... For A VERY LONG Time... !!! So Now What Sells... Is SEPARATIST Smells... That Are Hitting HARD... Just Like TRUMP CARDS... And BREXIT' Hearts... Who Weren’t So Smart... !!!! When They CHOSE To Mark... A Vote That Marked... A Wish To DEPART... From The Euro Class... !!! Class Is Now COLDER... Than Those Who Bend OVER... !!! To SELL With EASE... Their ********** Type Deeds... !!! Now Selling Some **** ... ISN'T Really Hard... !!! Cos’ ******** KNOW... How To Sell Their Soul... To Get THAT Dough... !!! PROFESSIONAL Ho’s... Now CLEARLY Show... How Easy It Is... To Sell Their HOLES... !!! HOLES In Their SOUL... !!! And A Whole Lot MORE... !!! I KNOW... I KNOW... It’s A TOUGH Old Road... When Your Dough Runs LOW... !!! But Come On Folks... Some of You Have Sold... Some Pretty BAD Jokes... In Things You Now Quote... !!! That PROVES That Your Mouths... Are In NEED of SOAP... !!!!! Because What’s SELLING NOW... Is WORSE Than Foul... !!! In FACT IT’s WORSE... Than The Type Of Verse... That’s FILLED With Words... That Makes Some CURSE... !!! Because It’s PERVERSE... And SOLD To The Herds... Who Prefer The... “ Soft Sell “... In Other Words FICTION... That SELLS The POSITION... of NOT Having To LISTEN... To The Type of Diction... That Deals In... REALISM... !!!!! So DEFIES Conscription... And NEW WORLD Type Visions... That Should NOT Be Winning... !!! But That’s The... “ HARD SELL “... !!! That Now Gets Me To Thinking... That Things That I’ve Written... HAVEN'T Sold THAT WELL... !!!!! Because of The Mission... That Says...“ What The Hell ? “... To People Who CHOOSE... To Follow FAKE Crews... Whose Artistic Moves... SELL OUT Just Like The FOOLS... Whose Gold Is FILLED With Holes... That Eventually Shows... That Selling Out Goes... With Selling What’s WEAK... For The Dumbed Down Sheep... !!!!! So It’s NOT HARD To See... The Things That SELL WELL... !!! FALLACIES That FEED GREED... And ***** That’s Ready... For... *********** !!! These Are The Things... That KEEP Selling Like STINGS... !!! Because Where They Dwell... Is A Place... FAR AWAY... From Art That’s STRAIGHT... !!! That Marketeers Quell... Because They Can Tell... That Humanity... Would Rather...... "NOT SEE"...... Too Much REALITY... Because It REALLY IS... ... “ The HARDEST Sell ! “...

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A diversion at play, A separatist dismay. To inform you of worry, So that now you’re sorry. No self for you, You have what comes due. Colors they besiege, To fill their barbaric siege. Tell them woe thee. And now, worries see. Weakness in what is selfless, Holy what they draw out. They slander what they spout. They are superior, For their inferior. Nonsense at play, So don’t let it dismay. History repeats, But you have the cheats. Let them be, So they can end what they see.

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May 15, 2025

May 15, 2025 at 11:11 PM UTC

A diversion at play, A separatist dismay. To inform you of worry, So that now you’re sorry. No self for you, You have what comes due. Colors they besiege, To fill their barbaric siege. Tell them woe thee. And now, worries see. Weakness in what is selfless, Holy what they draw out. They slander what they spout. They are superior, For their inferior. Nonsense at play, So don’t let it dismay. History repeats, But you have the cheats. Let them be, So they can end what they see.

Continue reading...