"slavers" poems
If I could simply overcome
Possessive nouns and vowel sounds
I would not need to study ******
Heavy lies’ beheaded crowns
But you make martyrs with your charter
School exclusive service sector
To systemically condemn me
To the destitution nectar
Of the corner story ******
Potential Cinderella caged in
The statistics of the mathematic
Overdose equation
Comatose’n like a Holy Ghost
Of tranquil ranking party skanks
Whose tanks plan out the projects
For the boys still shootin’ blanks
And then the slavers liberate
Some nation-state of god forsaken
Oil barons salivate
To taste the poison Apple’s stake in
Stock in stuffer markets takin’
All the products people makin’
Privatizing profit-docket lawless
Mother Nature rapin’
For some scarcity disparities
In wealth I can’t attain
You keep me feeding on the bottom
From the top, you make it rain
So as the brains continue drainin’
In amenity dependency
I tinker with the inner-machinations
Now the enemy
You’ve made me out to be you see
My generation’s future’s bleaker
Than the past in full HD
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 1:45 PM UTC
We come as warriors, we come as raiders, and as slavers. We take what we want, we are Vikings. We raid and we pillage, for our gods, and for our sons. Feel our wrath in battle for we have no fear. For when we fall we join our brothers in Odin's hall.
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 8:41 PM UTC
14th Feb 2014
They are all around us,
within, without, above, behind and before us;
Fanning the flames of the famous, the wealthy and fortunate
with secret agendas and infamous fame of their own.
I throw a stone
send it crashing through houses of glass; I see their
comings and goings in the Grove of Bohemia;
drinkers and liars; role-playing fraternity fools.
There are rules.
It takes more than just peeing at trees to be properly manly;
secrecy more than life is at stake when the fodder is human,
throw off your cares to the punitive furnace of hate.
Such ill-fate
that begets our world leaders, hatched out of a tangible darkness;
parasitic, calamitous, venomous world-gobbling evil
Mammon, devourer of souls, will preside at the feast.
And the Beast,
Fourth Beast of Daniel, squats at the head of the table,
fabled for pitiless torture of souls in transgression,
slavers and gloats over innocence lost and despoiled.
Feb 14, 2014
Feb 14, 2014 at 11:07 AM UTC
I am the ******* son of Nero,
the sad product of licentiousness.
A fact about my life
that I should really mention less.
My mother was a famous Queen
or so it is that I am told.
Unable to acknowledge me,
to the slavers I was sold.
But pirates attacked our galley
a few miles out to sea.
Bold, daring, fearsome men,
their life appealed to me.
Plundering, fighting on a ship,
I loved the pirates life.
Until one day I floundered
and took me a beautiful wife.
She bore me two boys and a girl,
I gave them all my affection.
Mourning the loss of my childhood,
my severed parental connection.
The children grew and flew the nest,
so leaving just two alone.
Then the plague paid a visit,
my grief weighs heavy for my home.
So now I am just a humble poet,
Withdrawn and cold, but serene.
Throwing words at a paper audience,
waiting patient for the final scene.
Well, wait there a while longer,
this ******* is not quite done.
I am not so ready to die just now,
that epilogue is yet to come.
© Pagan Paul (19/04/17)
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 10:44 AM UTC
Peace is a weapon
against the smallness of self
that excuses war.
Peace is the sharp blade
pruning the olive branches,
never drawing blood
Peace is soothing balm
for quarrel and division
instilled by zealots;
Peace is the watch-word
that makes soldiers deserters
of lower causes.
Peace desires itself,
making no root in travail
for other peoples;
Peace says, "Don't enlist
to be a pawn in the games
of elite slavers."
Peace has no Colonels,
Lieutenants, or Generals:
merely the faithful.
Peace is the Only.
No other weapon shall do
against each other.
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 1:10 PM UTC
All intellect is dissected
Through the tunnel visioned perspectives
Stretched thin
In a stream of feed
Producing the illusion of need
Projected from old men
Who grin
Below the suicidal idols
Of the rivals
And glutton in the maniacal sins
Commenced
By brain dead Americans
Painted in the amens of the dense
Commending the hymns
Of spent casings
Atop the blood of babies
And maybe
One day
It can be better
Than the clever endeavours
To sever the head of the predators
Washing our hands of their sedatives
And delivering the skulls to the slavers
But we are pay dirt
Shoveled into trucks to work
For a leafless tree
Ready and wanting to believe
In anything
That doesn't see our deeds
As we
Are manufactured with the greed
Of sleeved wisemen
With five of a kind
In the fight for life
Putting our souls
Upon our rites
We bet
Despite the path of right
Infringing on the height
Of success
In excess
Of the tests message
We are the blessing
Of a warning
Within a forgotten story
Historically denoting its anointing
We are the disappointment
Of the warrior
Defeated in a court
Of corrupted consorts
Sorting out the blueprints
For a new fort
Distorting the borders
Of moral disorders
With orders to ****
The hoarders of will
We are the shrill screech
Of a dying world
And we are alive
But dead
Born to ****
Batteries of a shield
Building hell
To sell heaven pills
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 3:32 PM UTC
Soft thoughts shift and mingle
Centering on seriousness and concern
The view below one of sped up haz-mat suit production
Gears of War turning swiftly ahead
As much compassion, joy and love as they could muster influencing them
Miracles happening every day
Constantly surrounding them with the ability to choose
Lately their decisions have become swift and greedy
Blind to all their blessings, cups full and still thirsty
Birthing their children into seeds of numbness and hate
Slaves and slavers to the ravenous machine
Language devolving into just more. more. more.
Worried that they still do not understand
The quest for the meaning of life simple and secure
Channel change on the world below
Millions of acres of altered food.
Genetics mutated.
Whole species wiped out.
POISON
Shrinking back into the safety of space
This place has come undone. Wrong.
Settling in weary acceptance
Finally turning their attentions after never giving up
Perhaps they will untwist on their own...
Immortality is not attained through the ability to survive.
But through the ability to impact.
May 1, 2012
May 1, 2012 at 2:46 PM UTC
madness,
creeping up
no not creeping--
swelling, crashing!,
frothing and spilling forth from the soul.
shaky hope,
desperation,
acceptance. loss.
abandon the ship and your cargo, ye slavers...
Typhoon Coming.
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 9:54 PM UTC
A sheer myst
Of belligerents
Pessimists
Confessionalists
And jobless degenerates
Perpetually in progress
Just kicking it
On the Internet
It's a little bit sick
I just cant shake it
This taste of *****
As I look upon it
Then it dawned on me
I'm also looking at me
In the reflection
Projecting what I see
Deducting
The white noise of irrelevance
And filtering out the elements
Fluxing
With eloquence
And moving into and on with it
The back lit intelligence
Telling me how to live
The plugs are deep
And I take more than I can give
And together we feed
On gigs of distractions
Impacting
The worlds tragedies
Unraveling
At our fractured seams
The web unto me
Unbeknownst to actual casualties
I seem to fiend for the wars
The deplorable horrors
Exploring the contours
Of the obscure
But not to be as it seems
Maybe just to blur the mundane away
Merely may have it be
The fewer the flames
The better the dream
Profane blasphemy
With ******* means
In ***** slavers
Raving in the papers
Of danker things
Printed on the label
In the stables of kings
Pacing the ring singing
From the knees happily
So please
Just disconnect me
Infect me with reality
Push my proprietary
Philosophies installed in me
Over the edge
Make the pledge to disconnect
But I won't
Form the wedge of discontent
But I don't
In this very post
I cast my vote
And hope
For what?
I don't know
Just always stronger than before
And longer in the troll
As the binary flows
Through what I think I know
Even though knowingly opposed
To its rope of coping
Moping from a beam
Seemingly unreal
Spangling from the
Tink ...
Straining to think
And heaving
To breathe
Smiling in defeat
I'll keep clicking
From the sheets
From when I wake
To when I sleep
It's a discatastrophy
Condensing
Collecting
Calculating
And presenting
An electronic me
Unto me
Without grief
And seeping
Through the screen
I'd scream
But not one would hear me
Help me?
Help yourself ..
The interconnected me
Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 11:15 PM UTC
DARK CIRCLES under my eyes
weary and TIRED
looks like i got high
in reality ive been ************ with tears in my eyes...
your turn
my turn? my eyes burn as well
The demons of hell have turned my back into furniture
each vertebrae is in pain for heavens sake
My own wake will be replaced by someone more important
and my funeral will be postponed due to rain
comth with your *** sith
its the way of the conservative
so shallow, they may as well be illiterate to human sake
the writing on the walls aching for some pertinence
everyone sees the destruction, the wretched police enforcing it
helpless we die in our filthy wealth
until we learn to save our selves
luxurious items are wicked in the way of souls as prizes
what’s the cost of a couple ***** boys from Africa?
just a sheckle over a diamond why not? im buyin it
****** men, Damning all,
To Satan. To the Demon Ruler
*** siths on tongue and lips
drip after drip on the souls of ancestors
They watch you rule, oh slavers
they watch you drool over riches
to you, these beautiful nymphs
they're doomed to be *******
they follow your lead and become what you want
blame them not
for they are a byproduct of your weakness
Innocent hypocrites, diluted of all culture
vultures infused with stimulants
so stifled we cant concentrate on whats important
high after high
going lower and lower
Now we know the new world order
our graves have been dug
now we shovel the dirt back on ourselves
sleeping better than waking up
this society is an atom bomb
and were all dying from the radiation
noise and light pollution is all we know
where did the stars go?
i need to go find home
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 1:25 AM UTC
Promises made
given and laid down in writing on stones.
I read runes in the ruins of what has become,
what they have done to me.
No longer free
I am devoured alive by those who contrive to control everything,those who bring nothing to the table and the table is bare,
I share my crusts with the beggars who sit on the street,in dark corners I greet them and then I console them
for they too have lost all to the mighty of Whitehall who don't give a damn,for
they are the ram raiders the modern day slavers and we're all in chains,laid on the slabs,looked at in labs,dissected,inspected and put out to tender,sent out as fodder for the high in society to shoot at like pheasants,for aren't we the peasants of old?
Life grows cold an old story indeed
those who can't pay are unable to feed.
So let us give thanks to those wonderful,fabulous,marvelous food banks who are there just in case we try to get out of the poverty trap that stares us in the face.
Fuck'em all down in Whitehall I know where I am and I am a man not a note in a margin but marginalised just the same,just a piece in some game that they play.
It'll all change one day though I may not be here to cheer but where ever I am,I will still be a man, and
not a laboratory experiment.
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 7:22 AM UTC
I am from silly sisters, full time moms, and missing dads
From Mexican Railroaders and southern slavers
I am from cramming in and spreading out
From jumping on the bed and sleeping on the sheet
I am from kitten toys and a purple piggy bank
From P.B. cookies and B+s on the fridge[b]
I am from Stam Chocolate
From pizza pie and spaghetti piled high
I am from Birthday Girl picks dinner
From salad dressing bottles and sweet Maine summers
I am from squishy black cat dolls
From the Time Out Chair and Bear Chair Fights
I am from homemade pants that can't be beat
From "Greenback Dollar" and "Unclouded Days"
I am from "Stand up and be counted"
From the Girl Scout Promise and Law
I am from all these things and more
My poem never ending
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 3:30 PM UTC
I am folly, I am fury.
I am ruin and I am rage.
I am every time that you have faltered,
Every time you were afraid.
I am pestilence and I am plague.
I am every roar of faded glory,
I am every cry of shame.
I am war, I am worship,
I am hunter and I am boar.
I am every lash of slavers whip,
Every chain cast to the floor.
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 3:57 PM UTC
Have you ever heard of article three?
It sets apart the dos and don'ts of law.
It gives power to hear the people's plea,
And to ignore it, shred it with a claw.
The Constitution speaks for people's rights,
Of justice set for humans far and wide.
It is confused by those who're born in light,
and think it equal to live to misguide.
The mighty masters set apart our race,
And put their own ten steps above the rest.
The others ran so fast from their first base,
When slavers got to start by being blessed.
Justice will never live for those died,
So long as we seek justice for our pride.
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 2:46 PM UTC
Ideas turned ideology create
Infinite numbers of lines in the sand
Here's mine and there's yours
Serotonin deficient lives
Laying dreams on the back of others
Then shunning them for breaking
Men told to **** the marrow
Women told to **** the ****
Pigeon holed sweater wearers
Hanging the future in neat picture frames
Staring intently to help it self-materialize
Junkies pry the world limb by limb
Holding hands in *** ba ya
As they skip off windowed cliffs
Red light burning away the innocence
Of hairless brown rabbits
Hypnotized boxers fighting ideas
While onlookers are sold to slavers
Breathless New Ageisms
Creating an orthodoxy of unorthodoxy
Visions of trains in a spotless horizon
Idolizing the unreal, a hope for hope
Destined for eternal disappointment
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 11:31 PM UTC
Album
by Michael R. Burch
I caress them—trapped in brittle cellophane—
and I see how young they were, and how unwise;
and I remember their first flight—an old prop plane,
their blissful arc through alien blue skies ...
And I touch them here through leaves which—tattered, frayed—
are also wings, but wings that never flew:
like Nabokov’s wings—pinned, held. Here, time delayed,
their features never merged, remaining two ...
And Grief, which lurked unseen beyond the lens
or in shadows where It crept on furtive claws
as It scritched Its way into their hearts, depends
on sorrows such as theirs, and works Its jaws ...
and slavers for Its meat—those young, unwise,
who naively dare to dream, yet fail to see
how, lumbering sunward, Hope, ungainly, flies,
clutching to Her ruffled breast what must not be.
Keywords/Tags: album, photos, photographs, pictures, mementos, keepsakes, cellophane, yellowed, leaves, pinned, held, imprisoned, time, delayed
Apr 1, 2020
Apr 1, 2020 at 5:27 AM UTC
excess rusted broken shackles
free from ancient gyves
tongues in dungeons no more
a present prisoner of forefather's measures
ears drum no more
notes fall through the cracks
remodeling skips yet another age
future slavers of our descendants
emancipated you stand
a guests to a freeman's world
you are no more
return us to the future
free from the present past.
In mirrored minds we remain.
Apr 16, 2021
Apr 16, 2021 at 5:43 AM UTC
Joy so constant we took it for granted
plugging jukeboxes with quarters
loading those noisy machines with B-sides
that only we had ever heard
Van Morrison's "Blue Money" bounced the skip
from station to station in the AM static
we loved that doowit dooey doop, doot door dooey doot, do doot
but the mystic sang of sweet things on the other side
"Saturday Nights Alright For Fighting ", tough ol' Elton John
worth a quarter to hear that song
flip that ***** get your money's worth
two songs there for the price of one
The Stones rocked "Brown Sugar" like slavers in heat
too young I was to understand
why the controversy, so many offended
I rarely chose it, though, cuz I loved "Sway"
"Sweet Hitch Hiker", CCR
sounded more like a razor than a tuned up car
do you remember "Door to Door"?
didn't think you would
"Children's Heritage" over "D.O.A."
"Generation Landslide" over "Hello Hooray"
"For Emily Whenever I May Find Her" over "Bridge Over Troubled Water"
yes, even
B-sides whenever possible
because the A-sides were all on the radio
why feed money to the jukebox for a song you can hear for free?
such are the economics and logic of the 10 year old music aficionado
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 12:54 AM UTC
Making sure
she kept to the right
of her best misdemeanors,
Rising slowly,
incrementally above her
sub-basement failures
Looking for all
the world like the world
owed her a life
time of favours
Striding unnoticed
past her past
jailers, her angry slavers
Throwing her chains
into the back of her dark
red Daimler
Passing sixty
screaming for privacy
Dying for worthy.
Oct 30, 2021
Oct 30, 2021 at 2:08 PM UTC
I live in a trailer I work in a trailer
commuting to work trailing
trailers making me late
so I'm given a trailer for trailers
and stew in my hate
packed with trailers packing trailers
under trailers who think they're jailers.
If I could meet the tailor of these trailers
I'd regale Her with all of their failures
and how they're like Vlad the Impaler
but there are no saviors only slavers
telling me I can hit the trail
and give up my trailer.
Sep 2, 2024
Sep 2, 2024 at 10:56 PM UTC
It all works....
The way is should.
Whipping the day
Like lashings to the body,
Exclusive to where
You found yourself alone
In the prison of the mind,
It all works.....
The way it should.
Tell me where you found
Yourself,
Away from me and the vivid
Yolk of slavers rejoices,
Don't tell me what I already know...deeper thoughts
Reside...
It all work.....
I suppose....
The way it should,
Tell me where the problem
Surrenders to the solution
At the end of the barrel
Take from me the side arm
And I will reload my mind
Trap the soul and win
Your body at the cost
Of time's reflection,
I suppose,
It all works.....
The way it could,
But where is the just
When I just got here
To my trial, tale
Of two thieves,
And I am locked away from
A grim reality,
Perception at its most gruesome,
Where we all never were,
This is normal,
It supposed to work,
The way it could,
Mentally programmed
To a bitter state of mind.
Nov 9, 2017
Nov 9, 2017 at 12:44 AM UTC
There is an objective truth
we all live through
that doesn't always give you
the answers you want to hear
which is always a fear
but we persevere
and adapt to the new information
or ignore it for mind incarceration
and see how this can tear apart a nation
of usefully dumb
and emotionally numb
people stockpiling guns.
The deniers and deceivers
give birth to true believers
spreading indoctrination fever
like broken breeders
following Loki leaders
claiming the Earth is flat
Covid is whack
white is better than black
commanding to attack
the different ilk
like Harvey Milk
their army built
only blood spilt.
This mind state
might make
the crime rate
climb great
when murderers believe that they're saviors
because the oppressed are framed as slavers
making mass shootings answer the prayers
of lambs led astray
guns, god, and grenades
pave our tumultuous grave.
Jan 22, 2022
Jan 22, 2022 at 7:42 AM UTC
rotten meat
dwells
in
the
belly of slave ships
the
trade of human cargo
the
taste of black gold
among
the slavers
for a profit
and
blinded by
the
love of money
and
the
price we pay
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 4:21 PM UTC