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"stalin" poems
Give me back my broken night my mirrored room, my secret life it's lonely here, there's no one left to torture Give me absolute control over every living soul And lie beside me, baby, that's an order! Give me crack and **** *** Take the only tree that's left and stuff it up the hole in your culture Give me back the Berlin wall give me Stalin and St Paul I've seen the future, brother: it is ****** Things are going to slide, slide in all directions Won't be nothing Nothing you can measure anymore The blizzard, the blizzard of the world has crossed the threshold and it has overturned the order of the soul When they said REPENT REPENT I wonder what they meant When they said REPENT REPENT I wonder what they meant When they said REPENT REPENT I wonder what they meant You don't know me from the wind you never will, you never did I'm the little jew who wrote the Bible I've seen the nations rise and fall I've heard their stories, heard them all but love's the only engine of survival Your servant here, he has been told to say it clear, to say it cold: It's over, it ain't going any further And now the wheels of heaven stop you feel the devil's riding crop Get ready for the future: it is ****** Things are going to slide ... There'll be the breaking of the ancient western code Your private life will suddenly explode There'll be phantoms There'll be fires on the road and the white man dancing You'll see a woman hanging upside down her features covered by her fallen gown and all the lousy little poets coming round tryin' to sound like Charlie Manson and the white man dancin' Give me back the Berlin wall Give me Stalin and St Paul Give me Christ or give me Hiroshima Destroy another fetus now We don't like children anyhow I've seen the future, baby: it is ****** Things are going to slide ... When they said REPENT REPENT ...
0
7.4k
Leonard Cohen
The Future
Give me back my broken night my mirrored room, my secret life it's lonely here, there's no one left to torture Give me absolute control over every living soul And lie beside me, baby, that's an order! Give me crack and **** *** Take the only tree that's left and stuff it up the hole in your culture Give me back the Berlin wall give me Stalin and St Paul I've seen the future, brother: it is ****** Things are going to slide, slide in all directions Won't be nothing Nothing you can measure anymore The blizzard, the blizzard of the world has crossed the threshold and it has overturned the order of the soul When they said REPENT REPENT I wonder what they meant When they said REPENT REPENT I wonder what they meant When they said REPENT REPENT I wonder what they meant You don't know me from the wind you never will, you never did I'm the little jew who wrote the Bible I've seen the nations rise and fall I've heard their stories, heard them all but love's the only engine of survival Your servant here, he has been told to say it clear, to say it cold: It's over, it ain't going any further And now the wheels of heaven stop you feel the devil's riding crop Get ready for the future: it is ****** Things are going to slide ... There'll be the breaking of the ancient western code Your private life will suddenly explode There'll be phantoms There'll be fires on the road and the white man dancing You'll see a woman hanging upside down her features covered by her fallen gown and all the lousy little poets coming round tryin' to sound like Charlie Manson and the white man dancin' Give me back the Berlin wall Give me Stalin and St Paul Give me Christ or give me Hiroshima Destroy another fetus now We don't like children anyhow I've seen the future, baby: it is ****** Things are going to slide ... When they said REPENT REPENT ...
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68
you can hear the echo via Zizek the Slovak, well, attire me in slavic myths and i'll be mumbling purrs in mud too for a helium bubble to become a comedian, i know a jittery ******* addiction when i see one... if one thing the catholic schooling system taught me was how to avoid sniffing glue and how to recognise a Freudian apostle - still, with all the hippy **** you'd think sniffing glue was what Ukrainian existentialism prescribed with paracetamol, catholic education just said: no no. **** me it's the late 90s and we're talking post-Chernobyl antics... but that's how i see the left, leftist politics, the right                utilises prefixes and suffixes in the old stance of simple pre- pro-                                     anti-                                             qua-                                                                -so so... the left? oh they're right in there... their prefixes are                                 Marxist- liberal-                                          Hegelian-              whatnot...                                                 they don't use abstract prefixes,                                           their prefixes are concrete,                         they want the porridge in their mouth to ensure a slur that never comes, among a range of onomatopoeias they argue from the perspective of the hushed and ushered crowd, via one observation: Stalin clapped after a speech to enjoin with the crowd, a real big brother, ****** never clapped, a sitting-duck method; i'm not advocating, but by a proxy placebo dynamo experimenting, it's called experimenting with thought rather than practising with will, former no chance of footstep evaluation for cult status imitable -                                       the left intellectual has no rubric of thought concerning to and fro - it has to be concrete layered and a shut off perfect architecture without fault - it can't be what it is -                                       con- has to be conservative                                                   pro- has to be socialist                                      you once said legitimate transparency - but you didn't say legislation - well, the left understood it as legislation, the right too wanted legitimate transparency - the green party said we could have neither but could have the replanting of a thousand oak trees with a Robin Hood placard on the first oak tree replanted in Sherwood Forest... b. ~ d. ~... shot ~100 bent arrows into a bullseye - hurrah! hurrah! maid marian lost her virginity too! to a broomstick rather than maradona's fingernail toothpick! at an essex market the cockney shouts (out of place): *** yer courgettes! *** yer courgettes! ta fa a pudding! ta fa a pudding! *** yer cucumbers! tooth firth 'un!
0
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 9:50 PM UTC
removed.polaroid-scrabble
i don't talk
you can hear the echo via Zizek the Slovak, well, attire me in slavic myths and i'll be mumbling purrs in mud too for a helium bubble to become a comedian, i know a jittery ******* addiction when i see one... if one thing the catholic schooling system taught me was how to avoid sniffing glue and how to recognise a Freudian apostle - still, with all the hippy **** you'd think sniffing glue was what Ukrainian existentialism prescribed with paracetamol, catholic education just said: no no. **** me it's the late 90s and we're talking post-Chernobyl antics... but that's how i see the left, leftist politics, the right                utilises prefixes and suffixes in the old stance of simple pre- pro-                                     anti-                                             qua-                                                                -so so... the left? oh they're right in there... their prefixes are                                 Marxist- liberal-                                          Hegelian-              whatnot...                                                 they don't use abstract prefixes,                                           their prefixes are concrete,                         they want the porridge in their mouth to ensure a slur that never comes, among a range of onomatopoeias they argue from the perspective of the hushed and ushered crowd, via one observation: Stalin clapped after a speech to enjoin with the crowd, a real big brother, ****** never clapped, a sitting-duck method; i'm not advocating, but by a proxy placebo dynamo experimenting, it's called experimenting with thought rather than practising with will, former no chance of footstep evaluation for cult status imitable -                                       the left intellectual has no rubric of thought concerning to and fro - it has to be concrete layered and a shut off perfect architecture without fault - it can't be what it is -                                       con- has to be conservative                                                   pro- has to be socialist                                      you once said legitimate transparency - but you didn't say legislation - well, the left understood it as legislation, the right too wanted legitimate transparency - the green party said we could have neither but could have the replanting of a thousand oak trees with a Robin Hood placard on the first oak tree replanted in Sherwood Forest... b. ~ d. ~... shot ~100 bent arrows into a bullseye - hurrah! hurrah! maid marian lost her virginity too! to a broomstick rather than maradona's fingernail toothpick! at an essex market the cockney shouts (out of place): *** yer courgettes! *** yer courgettes! ta fa a pudding! ta fa a pudding! *** yer cucumbers! tooth firth 'un!
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70
Does evil exist? Well, does it, or not? I demand an answer And if it does, hold that thought Because if wrong does exist We must face the reality That calling something wrong means There's a right way things ought to be But if wrong does not truly Exist in bright colors Well, what, then is justice But a meaningless construct? If the **** of a child In all histories and cultures Can be called pure evil Even by society's worst prisoners If the ****** of innocents Is forever and always An evil in society That can't be tolerated If imprisonment of a woman Like chattel for sale Being held as a *** slave In her own private hell Or murdering Jews Like Hitler's evil plan Or starving millions unjustly In Stalin's Ukraine Or killing the masses For political expedience Culling babies in China Or locking up dissidents If beheading of heretics Is inherently wrong Or even violating your privacy Or invading your home If these are universally bad And there's meaning in words Then there's universal good That our souls are drawn toward Something more than just philosophy Because that lacks authority And if good is defined by the majority Then what about the minority? Tyrants run roughshod When rights come and go At the whims of the powerful Because what they say goes No, evil is something More than laws, or from cultures Or philosophical sophistry From ivory towers To try to stop badness Is really to defend That there's a god of pure goodness Who wants us like him We can discuss who that god is And what is his substance But the least we can do Is acknowledge his existence You can say that religion Starts evil wars and such And you might just be right But you've just proved too much Because if there is no god Whose nature defines goodness Who are you to call war bad Or **** evil, or hate, darkness? Who are you to sit in judgment Of the religious who you think hate you? If there is no moral standard That makes hate wrong, and judging too? If morality is nothing more Than just a social contract Then it's just he said/she said And there's no moral compass You see, your compass is as good as mine And that may be fine, generally Until the ****** asserts his own Warped idea of morality What makes his wrong And yours universally right? That's a tough question That keeps philosophers up at night Because indeed, if there is no god There's no guilt to assuage For the wrongs that man does Because there is no such gauge It's like measuring empty Without knowing what full is Or like trying to describe love Without knowing who God is
0
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 6:59 PM UTC
kevinharper
Does evil exist?
Does evil exist? Well, does it, or not? I demand an answer And if it does, hold that thought Because if wrong does exist We must face the reality That calling something wrong means There's a right way things ought to be But if wrong does not truly Exist in bright colors Well, what, then is justice But a meaningless construct? If the **** of a child In all histories and cultures Can be called pure evil Even by society's worst prisoners If the ****** of innocents Is forever and always An evil in society That can't be tolerated If imprisonment of a woman Like chattel for sale Being held as a *** slave In her own private hell Or murdering Jews Like Hitler's evil plan Or starving millions unjustly In Stalin's Ukraine Or killing the masses For political expedience Culling babies in China Or locking up dissidents If beheading of heretics Is inherently wrong Or even violating your privacy Or invading your home If these are universally bad And there's meaning in words Then there's universal good That our souls are drawn toward Something more than just philosophy Because that lacks authority And if good is defined by the majority Then what about the minority? Tyrants run roughshod When rights come and go At the whims of the powerful Because what they say goes No, evil is something More than laws, or from cultures Or philosophical sophistry From ivory towers To try to stop badness Is really to defend That there's a god of pure goodness Who wants us like him We can discuss who that god is And what is his substance But the least we can do Is acknowledge his existence You can say that religion Starts evil wars and such And you might just be right But you've just proved too much Because if there is no god Whose nature defines goodness Who are you to call war bad Or **** evil, or hate, darkness? Who are you to sit in judgment Of the religious who you think hate you? If there is no moral standard That makes hate wrong, and judging too? If morality is nothing more Than just a social contract Then it's just he said/she said And there's no moral compass You see, your compass is as good as mine And that may be fine, generally Until the ****** asserts his own Warped idea of morality What makes his wrong And yours universally right? That's a tough question That keeps philosophers up at night Because indeed, if there is no god There's no guilt to assuage For the wrongs that man does Because there is no such gauge It's like measuring empty Without knowing what full is Or like trying to describe love Without knowing who God is
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92
I thought Van Gogh had it figured out he fell in love and cut off his ear he died july 29 1890 from a self inflicted gun shot wound He painted He painted the sky He painted men women bedrooms flowers shoes street corners chairs boats and fields I thought Basquiat had it figured out ****** NYC He painted memories in the present August 12 1988 NYC apartment ****** overdose I thought Picasso I thought Warhol I thought Stalin ****** Buddha Had it figured out but sand fills our shoes in dry texan sun and the dog howls howls for its mother howls for its brother howls for its sister I thought the dog had it figured out eating insects smelling my hands eating the ham on the floor I thought Hemingway had it figured out Late at night reading Old Man and The Sea Suicide July 2 1961 12-gauge English shotgun I thought Fitzgerald had it figured out I thought Ginsberg I thought Kerouac did too drinking across the neck and back bone and gutter lips of America and back I thought Bukowski had it figured out the cigarettes the wine the women the type writer the sad nights accompanied by cockroaches and a city that is indigestible I thought Phillip Glass had it figured out Beethoven going Def Mozart lost in his grave writing symphonies for Death and his cruel tripled eyed angels I thought The drunkards were lost The Junkies were ankle-less The Mothers were done for The Fathers had given in The Young True The Elderly gazing  through the bifocals of heaven and hell The Prisoners cemented in Time I thought the Dead were the ones who published our Dreams I thought the painter had it figured out So I painted I thought the pianist had it figured out So I played the Piano and listened to the bilingual codes of the keys I thought the Ballet dancer had it figured out So I watched her I studied the movements and the bruised toes looking for a design of an answer I thought the Poet had it figured out So I wrote a poem and I saw the world.
0
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 12:13 AM UTC
savio
Synecdoche
I thought Van Gogh had it figured out he fell in love and cut off his ear he died july 29 1890 from a self inflicted gun shot wound He painted He painted the sky He painted men women bedrooms flowers shoes street corners chairs boats and fields I thought Basquiat had it figured out ****** NYC He painted memories in the present August 12 1988 NYC apartment ****** overdose I thought Picasso I thought Warhol I thought Stalin ****** Buddha Had it figured out but sand fills our shoes in dry texan sun and the dog howls howls for its mother howls for its brother howls for its sister I thought the dog had it figured out eating insects smelling my hands eating the ham on the floor I thought Hemingway had it figured out Late at night reading Old Man and The Sea Suicide July 2 1961 12-gauge English shotgun I thought Fitzgerald had it figured out I thought Ginsberg I thought Kerouac did too drinking across the neck and back bone and gutter lips of America and back I thought Bukowski had it figured out the cigarettes the wine the women the type writer the sad nights accompanied by cockroaches and a city that is indigestible I thought Phillip Glass had it figured out Beethoven going Def Mozart lost in his grave writing symphonies for Death and his cruel tripled eyed angels I thought The drunkards were lost The Junkies were ankle-less The Mothers were done for The Fathers had given in The Young True The Elderly gazing  through the bifocals of heaven and hell The Prisoners cemented in Time I thought the Dead were the ones who published our Dreams I thought the painter had it figured out So I painted I thought the pianist had it figured out So I played the Piano and listened to the bilingual codes of the keys I thought the Ballet dancer had it figured out So I watched her I studied the movements and the bruised toes looking for a design of an answer I thought the Poet had it figured out So I wrote a poem and I saw the world.
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77
In 2007, I wrote my first poem. Life 1 It held two questions. Questions I have yet to have a answer for. I'll date it. I'll quote it. On December, 14th 2010, I ask it again. "Why is there so many racist?" "What did that race ever do to you?" I never knew how to feel, When I watched Roots or Schlinders List. Until I meet them face to face. The racist of course Spewing the racist words they worshiped. ****** and Monkey, I was called. With black skin and african qualities, Will earn you those titles. In my head I wonder; Should I hate whites because of the KKK? Should I hate Germans because of the Nazis? Should I hate Russians because of Stalin? Should I hate Muslims because of Osama? Should I hate my fellow Africans because of the corruption that rips Africa apart? These questions rattle my head. So once again I ask. "Why is there so many racist?" "What did that race ever do to you?" Quoted. Signed. Dated. Randy Wiafe December, 14 2010.
0
Dec 14, 2010
Dec 14, 2010 at 4:28 AM UTC
randy-psomas-wiafe
Racist
In 2007, I wrote my first poem. Life 1 It held two questions. Questions I have yet to have a answer for. I'll date it. I'll quote it. On December, 14th 2010, I ask it again. "Why is there so many racist?" "What did that race ever do to you?" I never knew how to feel, When I watched Roots or Schlinders List. Until I meet them face to face. The racist of course Spewing the racist words they worshiped. ****** and Monkey, I was called. With black skin and african qualities, Will earn you those titles. In my head I wonder; Should I hate whites because of the KKK? Should I hate Germans because of the Nazis? Should I hate Russians because of Stalin? Should I hate Muslims because of Osama? Should I hate my fellow Africans because of the corruption that rips Africa apart? These questions rattle my head. So once again I ask. "Why is there so many racist?" "What did that race ever do to you?" Quoted. Signed. Dated. Randy Wiafe December, 14 2010.
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33
I am in such a **** mood, the mountains have no meaning. Big ******* rocks. **** you, dad. **** you, Fox News. **** you, Indiana. None of you ******* know what irony is. Google that **** Jesus Christ. There are yellow streams-- that's poetic **** There are ruby stained sheets-- that's blood, obviously, and, I dunno, maybe somebody died on a bed? Everyone can **** my **** To be or not to be, that is the shut the **** up. Rapists are disgusting people. They aren't people. ******* idiots. Romanticizing everything you wish you had because suicide, mental illness, and eating disorders make you cool, riiiigghhhttt? **** you. If you do this, you aren't interesting. You're just you. Get used to it. There are people that go through these issues and they don't think it's ******* rad, ******* I hate 75% of the south. The south will rise again? Get the **** out of here. Stalin was a **** Most writers are ***** Most of them **** I don't care. For the love of "God", if I read one more poem about what poetry is or how to define a poet, I'll slam my head against a ************* knife. Some people are so dumb. Most ******* people. ******* pseudo-knowledge. Armchair philosophers. If you guys wanted to **** yourself, you could jump from your ego to your IQ. Something, something, imagery. Metaphor.
0
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 1:18 AM UTC
joshua-haines
**** Mood
I am in such a **** mood, the mountains have no meaning. Big ******* rocks. **** you, dad. **** you, Fox News. **** you, Indiana. None of you ******* know what irony is. Google that **** Jesus Christ. There are yellow streams-- that's poetic **** There are ruby stained sheets-- that's blood, obviously, and, I dunno, maybe somebody died on a bed? Everyone can **** my **** To be or not to be, that is the shut the **** up. Rapists are disgusting people. They aren't people. ******* idiots. Romanticizing everything you wish you had because suicide, mental illness, and eating disorders make you cool, riiiigghhhttt? **** you. If you do this, you aren't interesting. You're just you. Get used to it. There are people that go through these issues and they don't think it's ******* rad, ******* I hate 75% of the south. The south will rise again? Get the **** out of here. Stalin was a **** Most writers are ***** Most of them **** I don't care. For the love of "God", if I read one more poem about what poetry is or how to define a poet, I'll slam my head against a ************* knife. Some people are so dumb. Most ******* people. ******* pseudo-knowledge. Armchair philosophers. If you guys wanted to **** yourself, you could jump from your ego to your IQ. Something, something, imagery. Metaphor.
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65
I am ashamed that I am Spanish because of Franco I am ashamed that I am French because of Algeria I am ashamed that I am Algerian because of France I am ashamed that I am American because of Bush, Iraq and the bloodshed once among brothers I am ashamed that I am Russian because of Stalin, Gulag and recently of this and that I am ashamed that I am German because of ****** clearly (Pol *** appears more and more seldom in the lists, but one is horrified, humanly ashamed, remembering) I am ashamed that I am English because of football etc I am ashamed that I am Polish — only when I am not proud I am ashamed that I am Turkish, but then there are Kurds... I am ashamed that I am Czech and allowed myself to be stifled (I am just as ashamed myself — some say, who feel shame in its extremity and hide weapons in pantries, waiting for that moment in which they wash away their shame with the blood of traditional enemies) I am ashamed that I am Orthodox or Catholic and I wedge and split the mountain on which Jesus bled — before others made even smaller pieces out of his Golgotha below I am ashamed that I am Indian because... well, it’s no matter I am ashamed that being Macedonian I let the Greeks be even more I am ashamed that I am Korean and one of Kim Ir Sen’s I am ashamed that I am Korean no matter where, as long as Kim Ir Sen’s Koreans remain I am ashamed that I am Serbian, but... let me think I am ashamed that I am Chinese because: ‘You’re Chinese?’ I am ashamed that I am Romanian because of Ceausescu, Dracula of course and now, God, all these Romanians all over the world... I am ashamed of my nation even when I am not ashamed — but each of us seeks to forget something I am ashamed because .......... [Everyone: fill in the blanks, write yours here!] but you, but you — you, only you you, whose nation filled the desolate earth with life and kindness you are the man who begins the new day today with your first step Ioana Ieronim
0
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 5:22 PM UTC
irinia
"To Friends"
I am ashamed that I am Spanish because of Franco I am ashamed that I am French because of Algeria I am ashamed that I am Algerian because of France I am ashamed that I am American because of Bush, Iraq and the bloodshed once among brothers I am ashamed that I am Russian because of Stalin, Gulag and recently of this and that I am ashamed that I am German because of ****** clearly (Pol *** appears more and more seldom in the lists, but one is horrified, humanly ashamed, remembering) I am ashamed that I am English because of football etc I am ashamed that I am Polish — only when I am not proud I am ashamed that I am Turkish, but then there are Kurds... I am ashamed that I am Czech and allowed myself to be stifled (I am just as ashamed myself — some say, who feel shame in its extremity and hide weapons in pantries, waiting for that moment in which they wash away their shame with the blood of traditional enemies) I am ashamed that I am Orthodox or Catholic and I wedge and split the mountain on which Jesus bled — before others made even smaller pieces out of his Golgotha below I am ashamed that I am Indian because... well, it’s no matter I am ashamed that being Macedonian I let the Greeks be even more I am ashamed that I am Korean and one of Kim Ir Sen’s I am ashamed that I am Korean no matter where, as long as Kim Ir Sen’s Koreans remain I am ashamed that I am Serbian, but... let me think I am ashamed that I am Chinese because: ‘You’re Chinese?’ I am ashamed that I am Romanian because of Ceausescu, Dracula of course and now, God, all these Romanians all over the world... I am ashamed of my nation even when I am not ashamed — but each of us seeks to forget something I am ashamed because .......... [Everyone: fill in the blanks, write yours here!] but you, but you — you, only you you, whose nation filled the desolate earth with life and kindness you are the man who begins the new day today with your first step Ioana Ieronim
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37
[Police were called to a New Jersey school after a student accused another student of racism for calling brownies brownies. In defense of the police no one was arrested] Brownies are sweet, tasty and brown, but New Jersey’s schools hear this with a frown. Color’s off color, don’t you know-- mention it, and the Thought Police will have you in tow. Blondies are sweet and a bit greasy-- a tasty snack, not a girl who’s easy. But better call them cake, or you’ll be dissed as someone who is completely sex-ist. Anything you say can and will be held against you-- mot just by the cops, but by those you thought you knew. It’s the days of Stalin, or “1984” from Orwell; better watch what you say; they might be listening in the stairwell. Once we all worshipped the First Amendment. Now "politically correct" has gone beyond heavy-handed. Use only approved phrases, or outcast will be your fate-- Political Correctness destroyed a country once great.
0
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 12:09 PM UTC
scarlet-mccall
"Brownies" are Racist? The STASI in New Jersey
[Police were called to a New Jersey school after a student accused another student of racism for calling brownies brownies. In defense of the police no one was arrested] Brownies are sweet, tasty and brown, but New Jersey’s schools hear this with a frown. Color’s off color, don’t you know-- mention it, and the Thought Police will have you in tow. Blondies are sweet and a bit greasy-- a tasty snack, not a girl who’s easy. But better call them cake, or you’ll be dissed as someone who is completely sex-ist. Anything you say can and will be held against you-- mot just by the cops, but by those you thought you knew. It’s the days of Stalin, or “1984” from Orwell; better watch what you say; they might be listening in the stairwell. Once we all worshipped the First Amendment. Now "politically correct" has gone beyond heavy-handed. Use only approved phrases, or outcast will be your fate-- Political Correctness destroyed a country once great.
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18
Bureaucrats and clergymen differ only in doctrine. But their altars steam with the blood of untold innocents. The Pope, Stalin, and ****** all canvass the people with warped visions of Paradise. (Oh, Celan, you saw it too well.) Bloodletting for peace... Pitchforks stoke the fires to make dainty foot warmers for Moloch and Midas.
0
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 8:57 AM UTC
miguel-m-castro
The Real Conspiracy
Bureaucrats and clergymen differ only in doctrine. But their altars steam with the blood of untold innocents. The Pope, Stalin, and ****** all canvass the people with warped visions of Paradise. (Oh, Celan, you saw it too well.) Bloodletting for peace... Pitchforks stoke the fires to make dainty foot warmers for Moloch and Midas.
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15
00:49 Carmel momin' there although men it's scary for almost anything you know after all the model finally garcia alcohol use at all finale jurors for them to you often it is not come on saturday contain delaware commune daze on continue housing billion went through the ebay dosing mean are you reading for only emailing here and your mom along all you are not using spoon this long didn't the Stalin today is hamburger 3:31 darlin'
0
Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 11:35 AM UTC
jed-1
Hellogoodbye, Annotated
00:49 Carmel momin' there although men it's scary for almost anything you know after all the model finally garcia alcohol use at all finale jurors for them to you often it is not come on saturday contain delaware commune daze on continue housing billion went through the ebay dosing mean are you reading for only emailing here and your mom along all you are not using spoon this long didn't the Stalin today is hamburger 3:31 darlin'
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24
Miss Cleves (she dropped the Mrs. when her husband left) stood by the doorframe of the lounge, dressed in a flowery kimono, which revealed more than it concealed. ***** wants some milk, she said. Benedict looked around at her from the sofa. Percy will oblige after his drink is drunk, he said. Chopin’s concerto no 2 oozed from the hifi. He drained his drink and followed her into her bedroom. Once Percy had obliged and ***** been fed, they lay abed. She criticizing his Marxism, he her Scottish conservatism; she talked of her husband’s betrayal and *** with air hostess trollops, Benedict half-listened taking in the ending of the Chopin. She talked of the poor and the slums saying: you can take the poor out of the slums, but you can’t always take the slums out of the poor. He raved about the rich, she scorned the poor; he talked revolution, he pointed out Stalin and Mao and the altars of blood they brought. Another drink? she asked. He said yes and she went off to pour. He lay naked on her bed wondering what the priest would think of him lying there **** naked. He heard the Chopin begin again; she had thought of that. Time to prepare, he thought, once more to feed the cat.
0
Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 1:56 AM UTC
terry-collett
FEED THE CAT.
Miss Cleves (she dropped the Mrs. when her husband left) stood by the doorframe of the lounge, dressed in a flowery kimono, which revealed more than it concealed. ***** wants some milk, she said. Benedict looked around at her from the sofa. Percy will oblige after his drink is drunk, he said. Chopin’s concerto no 2 oozed from the hifi. He drained his drink and followed her into her bedroom. Once Percy had obliged and ***** been fed, they lay abed. She criticizing his Marxism, he her Scottish conservatism; she talked of her husband’s betrayal and *** with air hostess trollops, Benedict half-listened taking in the ending of the Chopin. She talked of the poor and the slums saying: you can take the poor out of the slums, but you can’t always take the slums out of the poor. He raved about the rich, she scorned the poor; he talked revolution, he pointed out Stalin and Mao and the altars of blood they brought. Another drink? she asked. He said yes and she went off to pour. He lay naked on her bed wondering what the priest would think of him lying there **** naked. He heard the Chopin begin again; she had thought of that. Time to prepare, he thought, once more to feed the cat.
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65
Across the ice a baritone Projects his notes of steel, A tenor’s harmonizing Adds that melancholy feel And the glory of the voices Flows out through alders bare And the listeners weep for Russia’s soul And the tragedy found there. The tragic melancholy Found in every Russian heart Liberated by the sadness A fine harmony can impart. Of the monolithic yesterdays, Those forgotten fields of dead And that fire within the ***** Which numbs the agony of the head. Dark stains along the timber wall Wood fire’s stones make steam It fills the room with stifling heat Which sweats the bodies clean. Red wheals raised on shoulders Birch branches whip the back Whilst companion tones of maleness Speak in vectors women lack. Red larches in the foothills Gold lantern light on snow, The vastness of ancient steppes Of Central Asia grow. A viola’s velvet passion Sighs beneath a cottage door And the sadness in sensation Brings grown men to weep once more. The vastness of the terrain The hardness of the land, The bitter cold of northern wind, Each freezing winter spanned By Siberia’s lashing gales, White snow is metres deep And turquois ice as hard as steel Beneath which... rivers creep. Dostoyevsky,Kruschev, Rasputin and the Tsars, Great Lenin, Marx and Trotsky And the swords of Horse Hussars. Gorbachev the great redeemer, Poor Yeltsin’s pale white skin And the ****** found in Stalin's smile Span the politics of sin. This great Russian melancholy Lies deep within the soul It’s a legacy of yesterday Of her history's brutal goal. It’s a product of the suffering Inherent in the past Endured by legions of the people Then dispensed with… With a laugh! Marshalg @theBach Mangere Bridge 13 April 2009
0
Jan 27, 2010
Jan 27, 2010 at 10:46 PM UTC
marshal-gebbie
Melancholy Russia
Across the ice a baritone Projects his notes of steel, A tenor’s harmonizing Adds that melancholy feel And the glory of the voices Flows out through alders bare And the listeners weep for Russia’s soul And the tragedy found there. The tragic melancholy Found in every Russian heart Liberated by the sadness A fine harmony can impart. Of the monolithic yesterdays, Those forgotten fields of dead And that fire within the ***** Which numbs the agony of the head. Dark stains along the timber wall Wood fire’s stones make steam It fills the room with stifling heat Which sweats the bodies clean. Red wheals raised on shoulders Birch branches whip the back Whilst companion tones of maleness Speak in vectors women lack. Red larches in the foothills Gold lantern light on snow, The vastness of ancient steppes Of Central Asia grow. A viola’s velvet passion Sighs beneath a cottage door And the sadness in sensation Brings grown men to weep once more. The vastness of the terrain The hardness of the land, The bitter cold of northern wind, Each freezing winter spanned By Siberia’s lashing gales, White snow is metres deep And turquois ice as hard as steel Beneath which... rivers creep. Dostoyevsky,Kruschev, Rasputin and the Tsars, Great Lenin, Marx and Trotsky And the swords of Horse Hussars. Gorbachev the great redeemer, Poor Yeltsin’s pale white skin And the ****** found in Stalin's smile Span the politics of sin. This great Russian melancholy Lies deep within the soul It’s a legacy of yesterday Of her history's brutal goal. It’s a product of the suffering Inherent in the past Endured by legions of the people Then dispensed with… With a laugh! Marshalg @theBach Mangere Bridge 13 April 2009
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62
man leisured by the least obliging functioning of what he terms “proper” manual endeavours of the biceps will clearly resolve the matter being his last adventure that’s consumerism, creating as many menial jobs as possible without the freedom to enjoy hardish and the elements; but of course man’s life will become easier, but his adventure seeking will simply become a zoology, a safari, a safety netting - consumerism is hardly an adventure, it’s a bicycle schematic: one wheel produces, another wheel consumes; most of the jobs under the hammer were not menial, they became menial only when heidegger’s hammer was involved and the rebellion came when hammering nails in turned into discussing philosophy; it’s hard to commence an emergence of philosophy window shopping, woman’s new kitchen area: you know how many marriages i have seen fail because of over-cooked pasta? too many. you know how many glass houses i’ve seen constructed by women peering into shop windows at mannequins? too many. i sometimes think about sartre’s c.c.t.v. voyeurism pervasive in english society alongside paedophilia, and i guess the jigsaw parts fit... they do; once dubbed the nation of shopkeepers, now dubbed the nation of integrally ~foreign mortgage lenders (nation of property developers / landlords... indeed, once a nation of shopkeepers, now a nation of landlords): or a nation re-evaluating communism by importing slavs to talk of the ups and lows of communism by trying to curb capitalistic egoism and turn it into a collective without communism’s egoism father stalin:                             or queen bee or queen ant china.
0
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 8:08 PM UTC
removed.polaroid-scrabble
nation of shopkeepers turned into a nation of landlords
man leisured by the least obliging functioning of what he terms “proper” manual endeavours of the biceps will clearly resolve the matter being his last adventure that’s consumerism, creating as many menial jobs as possible without the freedom to enjoy hardish and the elements; but of course man’s life will become easier, but his adventure seeking will simply become a zoology, a safari, a safety netting - consumerism is hardly an adventure, it’s a bicycle schematic: one wheel produces, another wheel consumes; most of the jobs under the hammer were not menial, they became menial only when heidegger’s hammer was involved and the rebellion came when hammering nails in turned into discussing philosophy; it’s hard to commence an emergence of philosophy window shopping, woman’s new kitchen area: you know how many marriages i have seen fail because of over-cooked pasta? too many. you know how many glass houses i’ve seen constructed by women peering into shop windows at mannequins? too many. i sometimes think about sartre’s c.c.t.v. voyeurism pervasive in english society alongside paedophilia, and i guess the jigsaw parts fit... they do; once dubbed the nation of shopkeepers, now dubbed the nation of integrally ~foreign mortgage lenders (nation of property developers / landlords... indeed, once a nation of shopkeepers, now a nation of landlords): or a nation re-evaluating communism by importing slavs to talk of the ups and lows of communism by trying to curb capitalistic egoism and turn it into a collective without communism’s egoism father stalin:                             or queen bee or queen ant china.
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34
Let Christ give his final sacrament to us through the holy Eucharist of his jizzum. He shall raise the skirts of all boys and decimate the trousers of all who fear him. I was a kid once and i know this. Don't worry he ***** me too. Feels good if you know him in the flesh in fruity underwear tighty see throughs. Death plague. He brings to us. Through the work of his ***** Whacking off each head to *** Come one come all, to the shitshow circus called religion, **** morals owned by slavery and god, All fallacy is see through like his ******* nightgown God is the **** of ******** Get a hard on from your violence absolvance. **** one another destroy. Empathy is for ******* God is dead. Shot with led, fed to the Nazis, in their death holes for the unclean, God is a *** The **** of earth isn’t me or you It's the constructs of dogma, That they abused us with as children. Come on now we all aren’t bad guys. It's the ***** in power. **** **** Follow, follow, into a pit like the communist. I had *** with Stalin and created democracy. Chairmen Mao is necrophagist. ****** was was the savior of the Semites. The Popes are the largest mass murderers in history.
0
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 1:58 PM UTC
Lendonpartain
Mao those Lenins ****** Stop Stalin
Let Christ give his final sacrament to us through the holy Eucharist of his jizzum. He shall raise the skirts of all boys and decimate the trousers of all who fear him. I was a kid once and i know this. Don't worry he ***** me too. Feels good if you know him in the flesh in fruity underwear tighty see throughs. Death plague. He brings to us. Through the work of his ***** Whacking off each head to *** Come one come all, to the shitshow circus called religion, **** morals owned by slavery and god, All fallacy is see through like his ******* nightgown God is the **** of ******** Get a hard on from your violence absolvance. **** one another destroy. Empathy is for ******* God is dead. Shot with led, fed to the Nazis, in their death holes for the unclean, God is a *** The **** of earth isn’t me or you It's the constructs of dogma, That they abused us with as children. Come on now we all aren’t bad guys. It's the ***** in power. **** **** Follow, follow, into a pit like the communist. I had *** with Stalin and created democracy. Chairmen Mao is necrophagist. ****** was was the savior of the Semites. The Popes are the largest mass murderers in history.
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32
how i forget to cherish these little moments of our togetherness; making an early meal of sauteed vegetables and eggs, "froached" like i used to call them when i was your little chef and would bring you breakfast on special occasions, and sometimes on sundays, just because it was sunday and dad didn't have to leave for work long before the crack of dawn even set its alarm. we'd all sit in bed together, squished into sharing a cozy comfort, sandwiched between you two and my old buddy gladly the bear who still sits on your bed upstairs in his pink- and-green striped shirt. but then i guess somewhere along the way i grew up; the move happened-- i didn't visit gladly anymore, or you for that matter. today you asked me to get the big jar -- the carnation                       (top) jar, from the shelf of the kitchen    cabinet while i     explained my oddly convoluted thought process, and we talked about how my granddad danced you down the aisle to django on a whim of a kooky family friend, and how i finally realized how little i actually know of you-- but that's normal. i might be growing up now, and i might not visit that little bear anymore, but what i never really told you, or anyone, is that i have my own now, a blue one who used to be called blueberry, renamed as joseph stalin, because i'm a big boy now, and my sense of humor dried out long ago. i may not be your little chef anymore, but i can still make you breakfast, and bring it to your bed on sundays, and sit with gladly, and quietly chat until late morning like we used to (never) do.
0
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 6:01 PM UTC
foxsuitpoetry
breakfast and teddy bears
how i forget to cherish these little moments of our togetherness; making an early meal of sauteed vegetables and eggs, "froached" like i used to call them when i was your little chef and would bring you breakfast on special occasions, and sometimes on sundays, just because it was sunday and dad didn't have to leave for work long before the crack of dawn even set its alarm. we'd all sit in bed together, squished into sharing a cozy comfort, sandwiched between you two and my old buddy gladly the bear who still sits on your bed upstairs in his pink- and-green striped shirt. but then i guess somewhere along the way i grew up; the move happened-- i didn't visit gladly anymore, or you for that matter. today you asked me to get the big jar -- the carnation                       (top) jar, from the shelf of the kitchen    cabinet while i     explained my oddly convoluted thought process, and we talked about how my granddad danced you down the aisle to django on a whim of a kooky family friend, and how i finally realized how little i actually know of you-- but that's normal. i might be growing up now, and i might not visit that little bear anymore, but what i never really told you, or anyone, is that i have my own now, a blue one who used to be called blueberry, renamed as joseph stalin, because i'm a big boy now, and my sense of humor dried out long ago. i may not be your little chef anymore, but i can still make you breakfast, and bring it to your bed on sundays, and sit with gladly, and quietly chat until late morning like we used to (never) do.
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88
The Miss-Director was beaming with pride as he came to escort me inside. "Come along, these are perilous times, there is much ugly truth we must hide." "Herr Goebbels was our school's inspiration. Joe McCarthy taught here till he died. Charlie Rangel is among our directors. Our Grads over nations preside." "We recruit each years class from young children who display a disdain for the truth." "We start with a class on tall stories, progressing to fibs and untruths." "By the time they are teens they are ready to leave little white lies behind." "They engage in deceit and deception. These skills help them rob people blind." "With our Grad course in prevarication They misdirect and deflect with the great." "Obama was born in Hawaii, his foes say he was birthed out of state." "When Bill Clinton was caught in that perjury I nearly went out of my mind." "If only he'd paid more attention in Class and less to some coed's behind." We had come to a massive rotunda The Pantheon of all untruth. Holograms of Stalin and Churchill told whoppers in an endless loop. There were quotes from the World's Great Religions inscribed on the sides of the wall. A Left wing devoted to Lenin. A right wing like a Munich beer hall. " The sheeple must never be told that a place like this even exists." " You can count on me not to inform them." I said, without moving my lips.
0
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 8:57 AM UTC
john-f-mccullagh
At the Mendacity Institute
The Miss-Director was beaming with pride as he came to escort me inside. "Come along, these are perilous times, there is much ugly truth we must hide." "Herr Goebbels was our school's inspiration. Joe McCarthy taught here till he died. Charlie Rangel is among our directors. Our Grads over nations preside." "We recruit each years class from young children who display a disdain for the truth." "We start with a class on tall stories, progressing to fibs and untruths." "By the time they are teens they are ready to leave little white lies behind." "They engage in deceit and deception. These skills help them rob people blind." "With our Grad course in prevarication They misdirect and deflect with the great." "Obama was born in Hawaii, his foes say he was birthed out of state." "When Bill Clinton was caught in that perjury I nearly went out of my mind." "If only he'd paid more attention in Class and less to some coed's behind." We had come to a massive rotunda The Pantheon of all untruth. Holograms of Stalin and Churchill told whoppers in an endless loop. There were quotes from the World's Great Religions inscribed on the sides of the wall. A Left wing devoted to Lenin. A right wing like a Munich beer hall. " The sheeple must never be told that a place like this even exists." " You can count on me not to inform them." I said, without moving my lips.
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37
Ellen DeGeneres! Mellow and generous, Mellow and generous, Ellen DeGeneres. X2 How can we peddle this, Greedy degenerates? Mellow and generous, Mellow and generous. I was just reppin it You cannot step to it, Ellen DeGeneres, Ellen DeGeneres! bass drop I am not popular My, what a thot you were! You should be jealous of Ellen DeGeneres! like Meek I was just a lost boy Never understood the cost boy Never really worked a market But I never really liked the market I just wanna overcome the darkness I just wanna wanna make the sun shine I guess I really want love to be great again **** all this hate again Cause I see you're vicious like a shark is I am so done with the corporate mind Grinding machinery, that's not my kind You are not kind, you are so shy Scrapin the sky Fake **** and lies You think you know what I'm talking about. I am a poet with way too much clout. I hate the way that this hatred compounds, You're just a clown! You make me frown. Simultaneously Unh! Ellen DeGeneres! Mellow and generous, Mellow and generous, Ellen DeGeneres. Ellen DeGeneres She's on my friends list! Mellow and generous, Ellen DeGeneres! How can we peddle this, Greedy degenerates? Mellow and generous, Mellow and generous. Reppin this Emmy **** Dressing too fabulous, Ellen DeGeneres, Ellen DeGeneres! bass drop I am not popular My, what a thot you were! You should be jealous of Ellen DeGeneres! I'm never gonna let my heart grow cold like that, Never gonna do just what I'm told like that That shit's old, my man That shit's sold, my man That shit's got us got us lookin' sideways in the fold, my man Cause I think I hear a higher callin Human race is fallin but you're stallin I know you don't think you're Josef Stalin But I think you look like Charles Ponzi, Oo (Sung) My girl's not a cheater So I don't think I really want to either I don't think I ever wanna leave her Iy just. want to. love, Said Iy just. want to. love, Said Iy just. want to. love. (And party hard.) Ellen DeGeneres! Mellow and generous, Mellow and generous, Ellen DeGeneres. Ellen DeGeneres She's on my friends list Mellow and generous, Ellen DeGeneres! How can we peddle this, Greedy degenerates? Mellow and generous, Mellow and generous. Reppin this Emmy **** Dressing too fabulous, Ellen DeGeneres, Ellen DeGeneres! bass drop I am not popular My, what a thot you were! You should be jealous of Ellen DeGeneres. You should be jealous. Ellen DeGeneres. Reppin it, reppin it. Ellen. Loooooove
0
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 4:52 PM UTC
SometimesStar
Ellen DeGeneres.
Ellen DeGeneres! Mellow and generous, Mellow and generous, Ellen DeGeneres. X2 How can we peddle this, Greedy degenerates? Mellow and generous, Mellow and generous. I was just reppin it You cannot step to it, Ellen DeGeneres, Ellen DeGeneres! bass drop I am not popular My, what a thot you were! You should be jealous of Ellen DeGeneres! like Meek I was just a lost boy Never understood the cost boy Never really worked a market But I never really liked the market I just wanna overcome the darkness I just wanna wanna make the sun shine I guess I really want love to be great again **** all this hate again Cause I see you're vicious like a shark is I am so done with the corporate mind Grinding machinery, that's not my kind You are not kind, you are so shy Scrapin the sky Fake **** and lies You think you know what I'm talking about. I am a poet with way too much clout. I hate the way that this hatred compounds, You're just a clown! You make me frown. Simultaneously Unh! Ellen DeGeneres! Mellow and generous, Mellow and generous, Ellen DeGeneres. Ellen DeGeneres She's on my friends list! Mellow and generous, Ellen DeGeneres! How can we peddle this, Greedy degenerates? Mellow and generous, Mellow and generous. Reppin this Emmy **** Dressing too fabulous, Ellen DeGeneres, Ellen DeGeneres! bass drop I am not popular My, what a thot you were! You should be jealous of Ellen DeGeneres! I'm never gonna let my heart grow cold like that, Never gonna do just what I'm told like that That shit's old, my man That shit's sold, my man That shit's got us got us lookin' sideways in the fold, my man Cause I think I hear a higher callin Human race is fallin but you're stallin I know you don't think you're Josef Stalin But I think you look like Charles Ponzi, Oo (Sung) My girl's not a cheater So I don't think I really want to either I don't think I ever wanna leave her Iy just. want to. love, Said Iy just. want to. love, Said Iy just. want to. love. (And party hard.) Ellen DeGeneres! Mellow and generous, Mellow and generous, Ellen DeGeneres. Ellen DeGeneres She's on my friends list Mellow and generous, Ellen DeGeneres! How can we peddle this, Greedy degenerates? Mellow and generous, Mellow and generous. Reppin this Emmy **** Dressing too fabulous, Ellen DeGeneres, Ellen DeGeneres! bass drop I am not popular My, what a thot you were! You should be jealous of Ellen DeGeneres. You should be jealous. Ellen DeGeneres. Reppin it, reppin it. Ellen. Loooooove
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103
No one ever fell in love with the slash of a sword You can slice, dice and tear But there are war-ravaged, pain-stricken voices echoing everywhere And rivers cascading of blood, meat and bone And a pen made a legend because Aristotle was only a philosopher and Alexander was Great So the pen made the sword, swords never made pens And ****** was an eight-year-old choir boy on the road to priesthood And Stalin was the child of abusive alcoholic, kicked out of school But the pen draws scars far deeper then the sword Because words can hurt far better then they heal And words can cut down people in ways the sword can't fathom And you can always stab someone with a pen But you can hardly write a lullaby with a ****** dagger.
0
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 11:52 AM UTC
arham
Pen and Sword - The Battle of Might
No one ever fell in love with the slash of a sword You can slice, dice and tear But there are war-ravaged, pain-stricken voices echoing everywhere And rivers cascading of blood, meat and bone And a pen made a legend because Aristotle was only a philosopher and Alexander was Great So the pen made the sword, swords never made pens And ****** was an eight-year-old choir boy on the road to priesthood And Stalin was the child of abusive alcoholic, kicked out of school But the pen draws scars far deeper then the sword Because words can hurt far better then they heal And words can cut down people in ways the sword can't fathom And you can always stab someone with a pen But you can hardly write a lullaby with a ****** dagger.
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14
I wanted so much to like you; I had heard so much about you. Your show sounded like fun Sadly, too soon I had begun To listen between the lines To know you, see who you are To know behind the shallow mask To see the ugly stained star. I forgive myself for a bit of it Because I know that it was The method you always use. I would later guess the cause. Perhaps myself and others The countless clueless mass Mistook the rich and famous As people with any real class. I had to see the gaudy penthouse With gold used instead of chrome. I needed to see the fake opulence That you chose to be your home. I saw you hobnob with famous And calling them your friends Soon I would be let to see The photo was where it ends. So, I packed away any care for you And chalked it up to my youth. Little did I know right then I only guessed at half the truth. Because you put your skanky **** Into the presidential race And this latest **** of your ego Means I never stop seeing your face. Running for the highest office The leader of the free world Sure seems to have given Your screwy hair a different twirl. Suddenly you dragged out speeches Of Hiter, Mussolini and Stalin. You shouted the policies of the KKK And thew your vitriol all in. Since too many fools in America Started chanting Trump, Trump You seem to want to turn DC Into something like the town dump. As for me, I have trouble sleeping Worried your fans might be letting And idiot in charge of the nukes So he can bring on Armageddon.
0
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 4:01 AM UTC
brent-kincaid
STAINED STAR
I wanted so much to like you; I had heard so much about you. Your show sounded like fun Sadly, too soon I had begun To listen between the lines To know you, see who you are To know behind the shallow mask To see the ugly stained star. I forgive myself for a bit of it Because I know that it was The method you always use. I would later guess the cause. Perhaps myself and others The countless clueless mass Mistook the rich and famous As people with any real class. I had to see the gaudy penthouse With gold used instead of chrome. I needed to see the fake opulence That you chose to be your home. I saw you hobnob with famous And calling them your friends Soon I would be let to see The photo was where it ends. So, I packed away any care for you And chalked it up to my youth. Little did I know right then I only guessed at half the truth. Because you put your skanky **** Into the presidential race And this latest **** of your ego Means I never stop seeing your face. Running for the highest office The leader of the free world Sure seems to have given Your screwy hair a different twirl. Suddenly you dragged out speeches Of Hiter, Mussolini and Stalin. You shouted the policies of the KKK And thew your vitriol all in. Since too many fools in America Started chanting Trump, Trump You seem to want to turn DC Into something like the town dump. As for me, I have trouble sleeping Worried your fans might be letting And idiot in charge of the nukes So he can bring on Armageddon.
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48
once a collage hung on a wide white wall   with monochrome photos of   all creatures great and small   Dali juxtaposed with Doris Day, LBJ atop JFK, and Joe DiMaggio, grinning Frankenstein and frowning Frank Sinatra, not far below Hemingway, Groucho Marx, Marlon Brando   occupying three of four corners, the bottom right a curious cat, in stretched repose dead center, a cracked crucifix and four Beatles all, Paul the biggest with the cross crowning his frame     a Corvette, and Stalin in his tomb   were also given ample room, on this black and white piece of art   as were ****** Cleaver, with cap, Jimi Hendrix with axe   another three score and a couple more, completed this cacophony of sight, but absent were J. Bieber, Beyonce, any of the Simpsons of Fox fame, revealing the artist of this gray masterpiece   was blissfully blind to cyber sacrilege, Steve Job’s toys, and the lost soul of Lindsey Lohan
0
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 5:21 PM UTC
spysgrandson
Dali, Alfred E. Newman, and Geronimo
once a collage hung on a wide white wall   with monochrome photos of   all creatures great and small   Dali juxtaposed with Doris Day, LBJ atop JFK, and Joe DiMaggio, grinning Frankenstein and frowning Frank Sinatra, not far below Hemingway, Groucho Marx, Marlon Brando   occupying three of four corners, the bottom right a curious cat, in stretched repose dead center, a cracked crucifix and four Beatles all, Paul the biggest with the cross crowning his frame     a Corvette, and Stalin in his tomb   were also given ample room, on this black and white piece of art   as were ****** Cleaver, with cap, Jimi Hendrix with axe   another three score and a couple more, completed this cacophony of sight, but absent were J. Bieber, Beyonce, any of the Simpsons of Fox fame, revealing the artist of this gray masterpiece   was blissfully blind to cyber sacrilege, Steve Job’s toys, and the lost soul of Lindsey Lohan
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28
I was there when they built the cathedrals I was there and I watched them stand tall I was there for the villagers' upheaval I was there and I answered their call I was there when they fought in ancient Rome I was there and I watched poor men die far from home I was there when we ate just like kings I was there and I fed you a grape I was there when they sold you into slavery I was there and I helped you escape I was there when ****** built an army I was there when Stalin rose to fame I was there in the Jewish death camps I was there and I forgot my own name I was there I was a pickpocket in London I was there when Dickens wrote the Twist I was there when it happened, all the sudden I was there and I raised up my fist I was there with Daniel and the lions I was there when he went down to that cave It had nothing to do with a God up in heaven It had something to do with the knowledge he craved.
0
Oct 21, 2011
Oct 21, 2011 at 11:18 AM UTC
david-badgerow
I was there
I was there when they built the cathedrals I was there and I watched them stand tall I was there for the villagers' upheaval I was there and I answered their call I was there when they fought in ancient Rome I was there and I watched poor men die far from home I was there when we ate just like kings I was there and I fed you a grape I was there when they sold you into slavery I was there and I helped you escape I was there when ****** built an army I was there when Stalin rose to fame I was there in the Jewish death camps I was there and I forgot my own name I was there I was a pickpocket in London I was there when Dickens wrote the Twist I was there when it happened, all the sudden I was there and I raised up my fist I was there with Daniel and the lions I was there when he went down to that cave It had nothing to do with a God up in heaven It had something to do with the knowledge he craved.
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44
Oh don’t you wish you were free Don’t you just wish you were free? You’d be a fool to give it all up Just for peace, happiness, and security. Poor soul, your state oppressing so many Maybe some day they’ll see That mass corporate conglomerates are people too Just like you and me All that nonsense, propaganda About social justice, bonds, and solidarity Beware, that’s just the sugar coated ghost of Stalin Mao, ****** Beezlebub, and Mussolini Oh boy don’t you just wish Don’t you wish you were more like me? At liberty to willfully discriminate On your own private property. To just exercise your personhood By buying clothes and watching TV What’s the matter man, why don’t you see, Why you so anti-individuality?
0
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 10:49 AM UTC
isaac-grimm
Ode to Rand
Oh don’t you wish you were free Don’t you just wish you were free? You’d be a fool to give it all up Just for peace, happiness, and security. Poor soul, your state oppressing so many Maybe some day they’ll see That mass corporate conglomerates are people too Just like you and me All that nonsense, propaganda About social justice, bonds, and solidarity Beware, that’s just the sugar coated ghost of Stalin Mao, ****** Beezlebub, and Mussolini Oh boy don’t you just wish Don’t you wish you were more like me? At liberty to willfully discriminate On your own private property. To just exercise your personhood By buying clothes and watching TV What’s the matter man, why don’t you see, Why you so anti-individuality?
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20
I like you like I like to Refrain from breaking a hip I like you like I like to Not fall and bust my lip I like you like I like Not being stung by a bee I like you like I like Not having Stalin next to me I like you as much as Acid burns the skin I like you as much as The Holy Ghost likes sin I like you as much as My car stuck in a ditch I like you as much as My phone's each technological glitch I like you like I like Bashing my head against a wall So I guess I really don't like you No. I don't like you at all.
0
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 9:24 PM UTC
elizabeth-foley
I Like You Like
I like you like I like to Refrain from breaking a hip I like you like I like to Not fall and bust my lip I like you like I like Not being stung by a bee I like you like I like Not having Stalin next to me I like you as much as Acid burns the skin I like you as much as The Holy Ghost likes sin I like you as much as My car stuck in a ditch I like you as much as My phone's each technological glitch I like you like I like Bashing my head against a wall So I guess I really don't like you No. I don't like you at all.
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20
The Miss-Director was beaming with pride as he scurried up to escort me inside. "Come along, these are perilous times, there is much ugly truth we endeavor to hide." ""We recruit each years class from young children who display a disdain for the truth." "We start with a class on tall stories, progressing to fibs and untruths." "By the time they are teens they are ready to leave little white lies behind." "They engage in deceit and deception. These skills help them rob people blind." "With our Graduate course in lying They misdirect and deflect with the great." "Politicians here are made, not born, and must learn to prevaricate." "When Bill Clinton was caught in that perjury I nearly went out of my mind." "If only he'd paid more attention in Class and less to some Coed's behind." We had come to a massive rotunda The Pantheon of all untruth. Holograms of Stalin and Churchill telling lies in an endless loop. There were quotes from the Koran and Bible inscribed on the sides of the wall. A Left wing devoted to Lenin. A right wing like a Munich beer hall. " The sheeple must never be told that a place like this even exists." " You can count on me not to inform them." I said, barely moving my lips.
0
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 1:56 AM UTC
john-f-mccullagh
School for Scandal
The Miss-Director was beaming with pride as he scurried up to escort me inside. "Come along, these are perilous times, there is much ugly truth we endeavor to hide." ""We recruit each years class from young children who display a disdain for the truth." "We start with a class on tall stories, progressing to fibs and untruths." "By the time they are teens they are ready to leave little white lies behind." "They engage in deceit and deception. These skills help them rob people blind." "With our Graduate course in lying They misdirect and deflect with the great." "Politicians here are made, not born, and must learn to prevaricate." "When Bill Clinton was caught in that perjury I nearly went out of my mind." "If only he'd paid more attention in Class and less to some Coed's behind." We had come to a massive rotunda The Pantheon of all untruth. Holograms of Stalin and Churchill telling lies in an endless loop. There were quotes from the Koran and Bible inscribed on the sides of the wall. A Left wing devoted to Lenin. A right wing like a Munich beer hall. " The sheeple must never be told that a place like this even exists." " You can count on me not to inform them." I said, barely moving my lips.
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