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Geno Cattouse Jul 2013
I ask myself often and loudly.Why does my expression come mostly with pain. And where does it come from time and again.

And what is the reason that joy brings no meaning
My words have more substance and insight and meaning.Pain is my midwife.
She delivers the soul of it.
The heart and the sinew the blood and bone of it.  Why?.

Why is that so.
A smooth carriage inspires me not. Except for a moment or an odd inkling.

The stream seldom carries the twinkling.
The angst and the pain.
Confusion and grief.
Are my harsh school master.
With dower stare with
No sign of laughter.
Perhaps that is the tarrif.

The fare.
It gets me form here and it urges me there.

I think the price too high at times.

Too steep a hill to climb.

For the buffeting view.
The pound of flesh?
The devil's meal ?
Be that as it may.

I flip the cards. Cut the deck
And deal.
LeV3e Jan 13
It's been almost ten years since
I wrote that violence was imminent
The guns in our classrooms, and hate towards the immigrants.
We're more divided now than ever before
And the horrible future ahead means war.

It obvious that we haven't been studying because,
1.5° Celcius doesn't sound like such a scary thing until,
you see the flames coming towards you down the hill,
And there's not enough water in the reservoirs to win.

So, we're cutting funding here and there
Anything to avoid taxing the billionaires
What good is an education anyway now
That AI can take all those dreams away

We offshored the factories, might as well send off the tech
We'll ban the apps we don't like, so we can get a bigger check
Tarrif the food supply, and deport all the farmhands
Jack up the rent in cities, and buy all the private land

The wheat will stop growing soon, and The white house is a circus tent, so
When there's no bread left to break, then
What's the point of these sycophants?
You died.
Then you are reborn.
They talk about heaven and hell
But they never tell you about earth.

Heaven didn't want us
Hell didn't want us
So,
They send us to earth.

Sure it's mostly water
Little bit of ground
And a whole lotta people
But no babies

Year 2025
Post worldwide pandemic  
Current Global Tarrif War,
Even the Penguins.

But i met you
You who warms my heart
You who holds my hand in the park
You and me, on earth.
All the way from Belgium

— The End —