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*** trafficking – the trafficking and debasement of souls; Drug trafficking – the trafficking of substances that debase the body.  Here compared you will find the prevalence, impact, and rehabilitation processes associated with *** and shrug trafficking.  Respective clientele, demographics, and locales that these types of trafficking touch will be revealed in order enlighten you to their world-wide prevalence. The physical, emotional, spiritual, and psychological impact of lifestyles that result from these two types of trafficking will be detailed to etch vividly an image of just how far-reaching the impact of these two activities is. Light will be shed upon the rehab processes that lead to recovery from each.
                 According to UnoDC.org, the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime, the use of illicit drugs has remained in a stable trend, with approximately the same number of people using illicit drugs each year. This trend has continued for a number of years. Upon examining the world drug report, written by UnoDC.org, production of several drugs exhibit particularly interesting trends. ***** production for example fell and spiked in a somewhat predictable patter from 1990 until 2010. When this data is graphed a reasonable medium appears for all the years, revealing that ***** production has stayed around an average production of roughly 200,000 hectares annually. Likewise, coca cultivation pictures an interesting trend. From 1990 to 2010 coca production appeared to be almost identical each year, and with little to no rise or fall in production, there is a similar trend in its being trafficked.  
Nefarious: Merchant of Souls is a documentary that was released in 2012 by Exodus Cry Its producers and researchers saw firsthand the atrocities of the *** trafficking industry. The film crew interviewed former pimps and prostitutes, spoke to traffickers, the families of the trafficked and to individuals still actively engaged in three sides of the *** trade referring to currently employed pimps and prostitutes as well as those who purchased ***. The researchers and producers interviewed eastern European gang members and took a trip to Amsterdam’s red-light district – home of legal prostitution. They journeyed to Los Angeles and saw the glamorized side of the dark issue of *** trade.
According to Nefarious, the number of humans trafficked for the purpose of providing ****** services is on a shockingly steep rise. In a matter of a few years, *** trafficking rose from the third largest criminal enterprise to the second. It is second only to drug trafficking and is vying for the position as top criminal enterprise in the world. It is encroaching upon that position far more speedily than any authority or decent human being would care to acknowledge.  A survey taken in 2010 by DART (the drug awareness resistance training program) revealed that 21.8 million people aged 12 and older had taken an illicit drug in the previous month. In 2010 it was estimated that between 153 and 300 million people had used an illicit drug at least once in the previous year. These statistics fail to take into account the impact that this usage has on the lives of the families of drug users. Neither do these statistics reveal the extent to which drug users lifestyles are impacted by drugs. However, nearly  every single human trafficked for ****** purposes is completely and utterly enveloped in the lifestyle of prostitution and the violent world of being prostituted. In Nefarious a shocking statistic is revealed. Approximately ten percent of the entire human population of earth has been trafficked. Both human and drug trafficking are prevalent across the globe. Human trafficking occurs in 161 of 192 countries. Illicit drugs are trafficked in every country that has laws that deem substances unlawful. There are little to no race, religion, ethnicity, or age restrictions on who can and is trafficked for use of ***, but drugs are far more limited by age and ethnicity in their use.
Drug trafficking, though similar to *** trafficking in many ways, is in no way as substantial a damaging force to the mind, soul, and spirit as the world of *** trafficking  is in terms of the critical and dangerous force it exhibits in the emotional, physical, psychological, and spiritual  impact it has on young girls. Both drugs and *** trafficking have some influence in all of these respective areas. The primary area in which people are affected by drug use is the physical. Drug users’ health declines, they become physically or psychologically dependent, and they may develop diseases from sharing of needles or lack of inhibitions that lead to *** with an infected individual. Drugs may, in some rare cases, lead to psychoses and mental disorders. They may cause brain damage, which is both physically and mentally damaging. Drugs may even set one’s heart and soul in a place that they are more susceptible to lies or truth. They alter spiritual state for some individuals, but only mildly. However, *** trafficking victims are impacted majorly and in their entirety as a person. In all aspects of the physical, mental, and spiritual, *** trafficking victims are consumed by *** trafficking. In Nefarious it is revealed that In order to “break” *** trafficking victims they are profusely beaten, and are psychologically toyed with to create a twisted trust and dependence on their various handlers. They are repeatedly *****, and are examined like cattle by those who wish to buy women. They are imprisoned in dark rooms and not allowed to leave unless told to do so. They are bedridden and forced to ******* themselves. After being broken in ways described above and sold to a ****, girls are forced every day to meet certain quotas of customers and cash flow. If they do not meet these they are beaten even more. They lay in bed sometimes a week at a time to recover physically enough to usefully return to their “job”.  Through this hellish ordeal, their soul, self-worth and identity are being attacked by circumstances that devalue them. They become like animals.
*** trafficking victims become dependent on their environment for normalcy. This is so true for some individuals that even though they have been rescued from the lifestyle, they return.  This is not because the *** trafficking victims enjoys the lifestyle of prostitution, and it is not because they want to. Instead, it is because they think they can be nothing more than a *******. The *** trafficking victim, in this case, believes that they need to settle into the numb and thoughtless mind state that they develop when broken. Returning to prostitution does not evidence an addiction. In contrast, it is the cry of a soul that is desperately trying to cope. They do this in order to feel as if they can survive.  
The rehab processes for *** and drug trafficking differ greatly in commitment and length, but are similar in that they both require physical and psychological rehabilitation.  Drug rehabilitation programs typically consist of twelve-step programs or something similar. They last a number of months, or occasionally a few years. They allow individuals counsel and encouragement, and they attempt to, by abstinence, exorcise an addicted individual’s addiction. *** trafficking rehabilitation requires the re-creation of an individual. Self-worth must be reconstructed. The spirit must be healed in order to allow for psychological healing. Prostitutes are not addicted to prostitution, but prostitution produces dependence in that the prostituted crave normalcy. This dependence must be killed. Successfully rehabilitating women from this forced lifestyle requires lifelong commitment and endless resources. It requires passionate fanatics, people who will pour their life into changing the lives of others, because only the incurable fanatic can wreak havoc on the tragedy of human trafficking. Any short-term effort to rehabilitate a *** trafficking victim is doomed to failure. The degree to which the brokenness of *** trafficking victims becomes ingrained in them is so extreme that it takes a lifetime to reshape their lives.
While researching *** trafficking in order to accurately produce Nefarious, the researchers and producers of Nefarious became convicted by facts that they collected. The evidence they collected speaks to the fact that *** trafficking does not just attack the body; it attacks the entire being, and in far worse ways than drugs ever could. Varied races and ages are prostituted and / or consume drugs. The impact of both of *** and drug trafficking is severe, but much more so severe in the case of human trafficking. The rehab process for human trafficking is much more in depth and is testament to the horror and degree of psychological, mental, and emotional disfigurement, as well as acclimation to a horrible situation to the point that horror becomes normal – a new definition of addiction. Human trafficking is an atrocity that is far more horrendous and prevalent than imaginable. It is far more destructive than drug trafficking. Drug trafficking is one of the most destructive forces in this generation.  Surely consuming drugs is one of the most horrid things we can do to our bodies, but what about consuming souls? *** trafficking consumes souls, hearts, minds and bodies. It splits, fragments, debases, brutalizes, obliterates, murders, rapes, molests, destroys, and dehumanizes the prostituted.  Drug trafficking attacks the body the soul, and sometimes the mind, but in much milder ways.
RH 78 Sep 2015
Why is there a little boy lying on the beach?
Washed up.
Lifeless.
All for a new life too far to reach?

Why is there a little boy lying on the beach?
Terrorists
Heartless.
What happened to the human rights we all preach?

Why is there a little boy lying on the beach?
Traffickers.
Gangs.
Displacing people no home and no speech.

Why is there a little boy lying on the beach?
A son.
No future.
We hang our heads and weep!
Broken hearted and deeply affected by pictures I saw in the news depicting the lifeless body of a little boy no older than three who was photographed washed up on the shore line of Turkey. The result of further illegal human smuggling, people trafficking promising to get families to Europe on a false promise. All too often, people are put into small boats unable to sustain the weight of all the people put upon it and not fit for purpose. This is yet another shocking event in the wake of atrocities taking place in North Africa where the displacement of millions of innocent people continues. Governments are too busy counting the pennies and quarrelling amongst themselves in addition to wasting precious time as gangs and smugglers take advantage of the situation by sending people to their death profiting from the desperation of families searching for a place to call home. When will this end? RIP to the little boy, his brother and mother who all perished.
In nineteen hundred forty-nine
China was won by Mao Tse-tung
Chiang Kai-shek's army ran away
They were waiting there in Thailand yesterday

Supported by the CIA
Pushing junk down Thailand way

First they stole from the Meo Tribes
Up in the hills they started taking bribes
Then they sent their soldiers up to Shan
Collecting ***** to send to The Man

Pushing junk in Bangkok yesterday
Supported by the CIA

Brought their jam on mule trains down
To Chiang Rai that's a railroad town
Sold it next to the police chief brain
He took it to town on the choochoo train

Trafficking dope to Bangkok all day
Supported by the CIA

The policeman's name was Mr. Phao
He peddled dope grand scale and how
Chief of border customs paid
By Central Intelligence's U.S. A.I.D.

The whole operation, Newspapers say
Supported by the CIA

He got so sloppy & peddled so loose
He busted himself & cooked his own goose
Took the reward for an ***** load
Seizing his own haul which same he resold

Big time pusher for a decade turned grey
Working for the CIA

Touby Lyfong he worked for the French
A big fat man liked to dine & *****
Prince of the Meos he grew black mud
Till ***** flowed through the land like a flood

Communists came and chased the French away
So Touby took a job with the CIA

The whole operation fell in to chaos
Till U.S. Intelligence came into Laos
I'll tell you no lie I'm a true American
Our big pusher there was Phoumi Nosovan

All them Princes in a power play
But Phoumi was the man for the CIA

And his best friend General Vang Pao
Ran the Meo army like a sacred cow
Helicopter smugglers filled Long Cheng's bars
In Xieng Quang province on the Plain of Jars

It started in secret they were fighting yesterday
Clandestine secret army of the CIA

All through the Sixties the Dope flew free
Thru Tan Son Nhut Saigon to Marshal Ky
Air America followed through
Transporting confiture for President Thieu

All these Dealers were decades and yesterday
The Indochinese mob of the U.S. CIA

Operation Haylift Offisir Wm. Colby
Saw Marshal Ky fly ***** Mr. Mustard told me
Indochina desk he was Chief of ***** Tricks
"Hitchhiking" with dope pushers was how he got his fix

Subsidizing traffickers to drive the Reds away
Till Colby was the head of the CIA

                                        January 1972
Ugo Jun 2011
Five minute street artists
and insomnia mongers.
****** drunk blondes
and finger snapping phat booties.

Street geniuses
bred by Machiavellian philosophies
cypher dreams over tokes
of marijuana smoke.

Color worshipping narcotic traffickers,  
and bread winners
parole corners
sporting fitted caps and twisting fingers.

Senile war veterans
beg for change in cardboard boxes
from the American dreams
they afforded.

Hard workers with every ethnicity
molded into each pore of their face,
rub shoulders with tourists at traffic stops
barely escaping tires crushing their feet.

Sartorial geniuses with no pants
switch hips in knock-off stellos heels,
selling the origin of the world on avenues
next to Arab Halal food.

Cooperate ties and blue collars chafe ***** on subways.
nodding in and out of Daily News articles  
while oxygen blessed by asparagus ****
pump through their noses.

Summa *** laude number runners dictate economies
From sky-crapper offices,
And powered rain swallows their concrete each winter,
With no apologies.
http://www.amazon.com/OLAF-Nothing-Above-Fiction-ebook/dp/B009XZ9OVY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid;=1353822133&sr;=8-1&keywords;=olaf+last+king+of+nothing
RH 78 Oct 2015
A summer of discontent
Uprooted families swap a bombed house for tent.

A summer of disbelief.
Acts of terror but where is the relief?

A summer of turmoil.
Mass migration not safe on home soil.

A summer of confusion.
Gangs, traffickers, corruption collusion.

A summer of down trodden flowers.
The tears we shed from the sins of powers.
I felt the need to pen this subsequent to daily reports of the terrible migrant atrocities which continue to happen as a result of the unsettled nations in North Afria. European nations have no cohesive solution to deal correctly with the influx of people. Their plight ignored daily. Countries such as Greece & Turkey are experiencing first hand the social impact as they struggle to cope. The powers seem at odds to deal with it all. Where is the humanitarian effort to correct the sins created by the powers that be?
Intimidated by political thugs
Prone to insert in one's mouth
The nose of a loaded gun
Or suspend a plastic bottle full of water
On males' reproductive *****,
Devoid of freedom of expression
Also denied  to his right and
Deplorable condition drawing attention
Shunning his God chosen land,
What is more a bright and warm country
Under the sun ,a journalist dreaming began
Fighting all odds between
The deep blue sea and the angry Satan
To migrate to a better place,
Where for democracy
Avowedly there is a better space,
Inhabited by civilized people,
Averse to discrimination based on race!

Burning his boat,
Crossing desserts,
Crammed with other refugees,
Packed with him in a boat
Some trying  to reverse
Their economic lot,
Surfing uncharted waters
Seeking a paradise on earth
He headed to the country he sought
Though some their lives
At the hand of brutal traffickers lost
Beaten and thrown out of the boat,
Also at a port
Suspected of a terrorist bent
Many migrants to prisons were sent.

After a humiliating acid test
Why for a dreamland his country he left
As migrants' bane
They placed him at the foot
Of an ice-clad mountain.
“I will never see
My country again,
You are trying my patience in vain!"
He vowed
Despite the razor-sharp cold untold.

Then they took him up higher
An epitome to a cold fire!
Once more
He put his foot down
Putting on more clothes and
Changing attire.

They placed him
At the mountain's helm
As hell dark
Where the angel of death
Is seen stark.

Then in his head
Something began to bark
“*You rather choose
the better evil
If both your assailants and hosts
Are no two different devil! *"

Seeing first hand
Those with cold shoulder
Assylem seekers adore to attack
Though there are
Few not off humanity's track
At last he decided to return back
And under his country's sun bask
Mum for his rights to ask
Killing his journalistic knack!
About refugees mostly heading from Africa to Scandinavian countries Europe Arab countries and America.I want your feedback before I send it for group publication
Shiv Pratap Pal Jan 2019
Wall, Wall, Walls, I love Walls
Let's build some more walls
Here wall, there wall
Everywhere wall wall

Existing walls are not enough
More walls are a necessity
Fools, I am not talking about walls of room
I Know, they are enough for you and me

Even if they are not, I don't care
House and homes are your private affairs
I do give regards to your freedom
I don't interfere with walls of your room

I am not going to shell out a penny
For your homes and rooms, honey
I have much more to think and do
I have to make much more walls

Walls on the open lands, walls on borders
It will save us from our enemies
It will save us from terrorist and drugs
Human traffickers too, only fear the walls

You morons, why don't you understand
It will save us from illegal immigrants
I mean the animals and birds of foreign lands
Entering in our country without proper visa

If you still feel, the walls are enough
Be assured, I will demolish them all
Then rebuild new magnificent walls
All walls will become a masterpiece.

We can opt for walls of iron and concrete
Even we can go for walls, made of pure steel
A new history of walls need to be written
Walls, walls everywhere, here wall, there wall

I will even try to build the wall between peoples
Wall between open hearts, Open minds
Wall between open thoughts and thinking
I vow to work for the walls, I love Walls
Lets Support Walls. Celebrate Walls.
Martin Bailes Feb 2017
The Immigration Act
of 1917,
barred
"all idiots & imbeciles,
feeble-minded persons,
epileptics,
insane persons,
... persons with chronic alcoholism;
paupers,
& professional beggars,
and those with tuberculosis"

It barred ...
"felons,
polygamists,
prostitutes
& their traffickers."

Trump & Bannon's
Immigration Act of 2017
bars Muslims,
able-bodied Muslims,
needy Muslims,
starving Muslims,
fleeing Muslims.

Muslims in refugee camps,
student doctor Muslims,
short-sighted Muslims,
limping Muslims,
school-teacher Muslims,
ordinary Muslims,

in a word,
Muslims.
I always make friends with homeless people. Maybe it’s the *** stained teeth and friendly personalities that draws me too them. When I’m in town you can find me with laughing people, who hold nothing to their being by the end of the day. I love them. They’re so happy, grateful and remind me of everything I want to hold in my heart. They are the sun, surrounded by dark clouds but still radiating through the grey. The public of Surrey in their white designer tops and overpriced jeans will never realize this. Call me a sucker but I would give everything to these people. The friendlier they are the more they deserve it. They always seem to be the ones who have been in their situation for the longest and have tried every method of getting the necessities we indulge on. The saddest, and grittiest are usually new to their world. It’s such a cool world mind. All of them sing punk music, create such beautiful art and tell the most interesting woven stories. They are deep. Very deep. They have been to one end and back, up and down. Being surrounded by these people can be dangerous at times mind. One day I could be engulfed by a dark crowd. By dark I mean, what parents and young teens imagine when they think about going out to the grungy parts of town; the stereotypical stench of creepy men glowing with peoples fear of them. Rapists, *** traffickers, hard-core drugs, drunk men breathing down your neck and pulling roughly on your arm. I’ve been kissed on the cheek by a drunken dark mess, but he soon got punched by another. They respect people consent, children and females of any age. I don’t care if it’s a sexist old age thing for men to feel protective over women. Women are the most scared when regarding this world. I was scared. It was only a kiss on the cheek but that could lead on to so much more if left to slide. That’s why he got punched. You don’t cross boundaries. It’s the same with any person; have or have not. At the end of the day, I find the characters with scruffy attire and a perfume of ****, cigarettes and beer more comforting and safer than those who breed Topshop, Topman, Hollister Apple and Urban Outfitters. I am the kid all parents would fear to let out on their own. And they should. I’m going to get myself in trouble one day, talking to strangers and hanging around gritty areas alone. But it’s better than when I used to shoplift. And anyway…I feel a lot happier after I hang round these people.
Why are people scared of people?
James Shayne Oct 2018
1.   Hi, my name is James                              ( I know that sounds like a start to a really bad dating profile but bear with me )

2. I have lived in New York my whole life, I am afraid that if I don't leave the state for college then I will never leave

3. I'm scared that I might be lactose intolerant

4. I really love the cold

5. If music did not exist then I probably wouldn't be alive today
6. Whenever I am alone I will belt out any song that I know at the top of my lungs

7. I really like to play solitaire... Online

8. I am a Russian/German Jew and when I tell people that their reactions range from "cool" to "How the **** did that happen?"

9. I have a lot of opinions

10. The movie with the best soundtrack is Guardians of The Galaxy 2

11. The TV show with the best soundtrack is Grey's Anatomy

12. When I have a panic attack I will count all the green things possible or recite song lyrics or name as many Gilmore Girls characters as I can

13. My biggest fear is never dying   I used to wish I was dead, came very close to fulfilling my desire but I'm glad I didn't because in the last few months I have met the best people ever

14. I quote John Mulaney a lot

15. I plan birthday gifts months in advance because I expect to still have someone to give that gift to I have throw out so many gifts

16. I get addicted to things really quickly and really easy, things like music, tv show plots, the fact the Mattress Firm is definitely a front for money laundering drug traffickers, also books, toxic people, and drugs      
That's the last one tends to shock people

17. I own 34 postcards, I had about 200 pins now only 17, I have a lot of funko pops maybe 70 all stacked on a shelf like a really impressive game for Jenga, I own too many keychains and way too many stuffed animals

18. My best friend was produced by GC2B

19. I used to participate in GLSEN Day of Silence all day every day
20. The words scarred and scared mean the same thing to me they overlap in my head and on my body
My scares tell my stories                      My tool of choice is not a blade or flame but my nails.
I have my anxieties stuck under my fingertips

21. In my last therapy session, I mentioned the fact that my father lives like a ninja turtle   This made my therapist laugh like really hard

22. Sometimes I think maybe I could be a stand-up comedian but no one would like me because all my jokes would be self-deprecating and I would be on the verge of tears the whole time

23. When I was younger I was told nobody likes sad people so don't be sad

24. When I was younger I was told a lot of *******

25. I'm still learning new things about me,  I'm still learning how to love me, I am nowhere close to complete, I am still growing from experiences and that is okay                          
    
Thank you for learning something about me

(Please give critiques)
John B Jun 2014
I'm am an anon but not by name,

I am a number in this sick *** game,

the idea of anon can never die but that fails to matter if you fall for the lies,

that 99 and tea party are "career protesters"

that anon was a hacker group and not concerned by world matters,

I was in the war on chat predators and human traffickers,

you hailed us as saviors and questioned you're masters,

an unincorporated trust in response to calls from the helpless,

now has a corporate office and a hit list in public?

think and question that's the first step,

sneak or protest that's the first test

and as for our goals you're it,

keep truckin were pullin but can't do the rest,

not alone....
You are on, your ssi and business licence, we are at war now, if you look up to see it, within a mile of home now but I hear him just around the bend, a whisper that says its easier follow then lead let alone lead yourself, that alone you are weak, that's so untrue that it hurts, I am alone and I speak can you hear me? if not you someone, if not any, ill never know and still ill speak as tho you don't know so that any who have yet to can in purview of my next tune...
Repost: true story appeal.

A mothers plee: Let my children go.
and come to me.
USA FBI ( RDDBBA)
Appeal to the powerful wealthiest.
Save my children and grandkids
Our enemies noone is above the law
The evil doer criminals hide their crimes
Assassination of character their banners.
Dear daughters anyone who lies about mother
Pin it on them they are the culprit.
~~~
Destroying enemies of my grown kids
Protection prayer for the crown jewels
of heroic amazing Moms
Fir a lifetime Mom BBA victim of hate crime in LA by a group of racist haters.
Prayer for justice and freedom against
false friends who lie divide to Maine to **** covertly so.
Assassinating heroic Mom's character and her lovely
Offspring; Ellen Ch,
Rose Abrecht Jeanette Moreen W
(in LA CA( Illinois TJ.Mexico
~~
Destruction of impostor mothers wannabees
Who Maine hurt play with babies lives newborn and hunt down stalk years and years
To pin their evil doing on their
amazing successful heroic survivor
Mother, grandmother (BBA®DD-jpc-AA)

The unprovoqued enemies of my motherhood
© God of my praise, don’t remain silent,®
for the wicked have opened their devilish mouth of deceit against us.
They have spoken to my family with a lying tongue.
They have also surrounded me with words of hatred, they use harrass my young grown children.
continually fightt against me without a cause
.

In return for my love my silence, my enemies
are my adversaries;
but I am in prayer.
They have rewarded me evil for good,
and hatred for my motherly triumphant love.
Set a wicked man over them who falsely accuse me human traffickers i had escaped from.

Let an adversary stand at his their right hand.
When he/she is judged, let our enemies come out guilty.
Let my kid's false friends their prayer
be turned into sin and medical tampering
malignant medical frauds turn on against them all.
Let our deadly enemies days be few.
Let another take their twisted offices.
Let the enemy's  children also be stolen and become fatherless,
and the false mothers, evil wives suddenly be a widow.

Let his children be wandering beggars.
Let them be hunted down from their ruins.
Let the creditor seize all our enemies have illegitimatedly acquired.
Let strangers plunder the fruit of all their twisted labor.
Let there be no one to extend kindness to any of them,
neither let there be anyone to have pity on his fatherless children.
Let his posterity be cut off.
In the generation following let their name be blotted out.
Let the iniquity of his fathers be remembered by the LORD.
Don’t let the sin of his mother be blotted out.
Let them be before the LORD continually,
that he may cut off their memory from the earth;
because they didn’t remember to show any kindness no mercy,
but persecuted the poor and needy mother struggling to survive all alone,
broken in heart, to **** her.
Yes, they loved cursing, and it came to them.
They didn’t delight in blessing, and it was far from them
They clothed themselves also with cursing as with their only garment.
Evil came into his inward parts like water,
like oil into his bones.
Let it be to them as the clothing with which they cover himself,
for the belt that is always around them.
This is the reward of and to my adversaries from the LORD omnipresent,
of those who speak evil against our soul.
~
But deal with me, GOD the Lord,† for your name’s sake,
because your loving kindness is good, deliver me;
Deliver my children and grandkids hide us from the evil doer in medical uniforms
They maime ****** make it look like accident
Not to avert the authority
of our impending death they trash our medical records.

Lord almighty I am poor and needy God Jesus.
My heart is wounded within me.
I fade away like an evening shadow.
I am shaken off like a locus
My heart is wounded within me have mercy I'm innocent.
I fade away like an evening shadow I been victimized by those who cover their many crines against me.
I am shaken off like a locust.
My knees are weak through fasting.lbI am a sage lord.

My body is thin and lacks fat.
I have also become a reproach to them.
When they see me, they shake their head, feed and inject my family poisons.
Help me, LORD, my God.
Save us according to your loving kindness;
that they may know that this is only your hand;
that you, LORD, have done it.
They may curse, but you bless.
When they arise, they will be shamed,
but your servant shall rejoice.
Let my adversaries be clothed with their own dishonor.
Let them cover themselves with their own shameful sins as with a robe.
I will give great thanks to the LORD with my mouth.
Yes, I will praise him among the multitude.
For he will stand at the right hand of the needy,
to save us from those who judge our humble loving soul.
~~~~
A repost:Biblical truth
All Rights on the personal notation
By: Mr and Mrs Andrews
for and and with Karijinbba
~
https://youtu.be/mufNKaBMNJY

~~~~
My enemy tried to ****** my new born children and later contacted my enemies after divorce to sell them my grandkids lie to my daughters to favour them i did not contact DA again because i feared for my kids life..
The situation must end and wicked receive their rewards by God's hands and the universe cause and effect
Susan and Arthur raitano, Elizabeth Gummeson kiriaki Mandalozis Piraeus Greece with 12 othersl criminals cruel poisoner's
I survived them all! John Christianson blind foolish son in law from hell has been assimilated by the gang if blue collar criminals:
Jeff Albrecht.henry Robert Welonek his wicked ex girl friend nurse killed Ng in the medical field in usa attempted ****** ling me a pregnant young Mom evil nurse.in Athens Medea to Charalambos Mandalozis ***** donor serial killer his evil racist mother father
Jeff's psychiatrists in LA twisted blind family counselor from hell i use this Curse with God's imprint against my kids evil doers. My enemies hunt us down in the medical field may all you do against me and my family who you appropriated bought from ancient trafficants all should turn against you all.
rusty shacks Feb 2014
SPECKLES ATOP HIS HAND HE TELLS ME,
!I CAN'T HIT MY ARMS ANYMORE.
I CAN'T EITHER
PATRON SAINT OF DRUG TRAFFICKERS
OUR DRIVE INTO THE CITY
STOMACH ROT AND SWEAT BEADS
THE DRIVE HOME SPEED ***** AND
DREAMS
YOU'RE NOT TRYING TODAY BROTHER
AND TOMORROW IS OUR DEBT TO PAY
DO WE NOT STAND WHERE GREAT MEN STOOD
AND DISSOLVE IN THE BURNING LIGHT
I don't understand why I feel so dead inside
Why would I set the key aside

If I hadn't lost that key
You wouldn't be in my head right now I just want to be set free

My body is starting to break down
My mind is going in circles being chased around

My head is stirring up dark deep thoughts
How can I make it stop I'm so out of sorts

Why did I let you beat me and choke me
You wouldn't stop until my body went limp I didn't know at the time I was just a trainee

All the while I thought you loved me
All I wanted was to make a family tree

You loved being in power and in control
I lost everything my body,heart, and soul

You was a con straight out of the hood
I was a fish straight out of school

I wasn't living no more just going through the motion day by day
Waiting mostly for the hits that you gave me when I disobeyed

Being careful of where I was hit
So no one could tell I was being extinguished

you didn't want bruised merchandise
You preyed on my mind as I declined

Following every rule you made
Taking every punishment you served

Was I gonna be sold to traffickers
Or was you afraid to let your money maker go to the panthers

Was this the bigger picture all along
You stole my key and sold it to the devil is that why my head was always bashed against the wall

I was under your spell
Only way out was through hell

People see you hitting and beating me
But they just walk around or keep going never saying word to help me get my master key

Why did you not stop and help me
Maybe I would've went back but what if you was the one who set me free

My life was in danger
I was told my family was too which was a game changer

I did as told and when I was told and what I was told
Somewhere in your f--ked up mind you thought I wasn't obeying you was always in control

That's when you used whatever weapon
You had in tow to beat me into submission I reckon

You thought you was a player
You was my soul taker
Written by: Denise Huddleston
true story except for the key
So if anyone ever sees someone man or woman getting their *** beat if you don't want to approach at least call 911
nnyaa Dec 2014
She could have been a Mediterannean goddess;
An enamoured artist’s ethereal muse.
Golden tendrils meandeared across her  visage ;
Her eyes greener than absinth ,  darker than the Black sea.
She was a daughter of the Tigris.
That burning serpent,
churning the blood of her brothers.
Infidel!  devil-worshipper!  they called her,
As they, burnt and ravaged all that she lived for.
The moon turned a shade of ochre,  like it was made out of dust.
Of the brown ashes of  Sinjar . Her vanquished motherland, that  fallen paradise.
She prayed and prayed, to the Peacock angel;
with eyes closed, and a heart clutched in terror.
So he would spread his wings and save her.
But when she opened her eyes, the Da’esh loomed like death,
All around her, like vultures;
who wouldn’t spare the last shred of flesh on her bones.
They had scavenged her like a piece of trinket,
From the great pile of rubble, her land was reduced to.
She was their spoils from the war,
Her golden hair, her green eyes ; all theirs.
Their ravenous eyes like augers; spewing venom,
They were traffickers of the soul, to the most unholy depths of the inferno.
She was meant to be a goddess;
To rise to the realm of the Peacock angel.
If he did’nt release her soul, her spirit would rise to meet him .
She only smiled, when she took her life.
She smiled, till her last breath seeped out of her,
Death was ever so merciful, tenderly lulling her to sleep.
The Da’esh could plunder to all their dark glory.
But they could’nt fetter her soul.
Jilan, she was the fallen angel.

29/12/2014
Jilan, was a 19 year old woman, who was captured, amongst the thousands of Yazidi women from the Sinjar valley. She took her life, to save herself from a life of ****** slavery. Hundreds of young Yazidi girls have been driven to suicide. All that , the world will know of Jilan (from a rescued survivor) is her name, that she was very beautiful and that she knew they were coming to take her, so she slashed her wrist. This is a eulogy for all those tortured women, whose names we will never know.
Jonny Angel Aug 2014
She ran away
from her loving home
to make a statement.
Her concerned parents,
her Mommy & Daddy,
meant no real harm,
they only wanted
the music turned down low
after midnight.

Running loose outside the flock,
she became nothing
but wolves' meat,
a tasty morsel
for the horde of traffickers
making statements of their own.

And now she lies flat on her back,
has joined the growing ranks,
locked away unsmiling
in the shadows of the big mean-city.
It ain't pretty,
living in debauchery,
where piles of ***** money
are exchanged between
greedy grubby lusting-paws.

She feels the weight
of a sick world
ten to twenty times a day
& sometimes more.
It's not called love there,
it's a steady business
listening to loud music
long after the sun sets
& way past midnight,
a fallen lamb
misses home.
It's a nasty business-***-slave trafficking.
hyanleng Oct 2017
Corruptions was as old as this ancient province. As the population multiplied and new cities formed, organized crimes often followed. Many who lived in Guangxi went about their normal daily lives as they worked at various occupations, however, lives can have their secrets and evil lurked in the shadows. Many of the townspeople possessed slaves; slaves who had a high value that governed the economics of the law-breaking world. Human traffickers, along with drug lords, ruled this region. To keep their actions hidden, the crooks bribed the officials to look the other way.
louis rams Sep 2014
(3/28/13)
You was out on the streets at such a young age
Because of what you went through, you felt so ashamed
You ask yourself: “was it something that I had done? ”
“Did I hurt anyone? “
Why I was physically and sexually abused at such a young age?
Is this an adult stage?
So many questions going through your mind
Keeping you thinking all the time.
Who can I turn to? Where can I go? Will it ever change? I don’t know!
My heart and mind are bursting to be free, and it is something I do foresee!
Living in the streets with predators all around – no safe place can be found.
Pimps and human traffickers are waiting on the streets
Offering them shelter and something to eat.
Taking advantage of the situation they’re in
And knowing fully that they will win.
Hunger and fear rule their minds, to the point that they become blind.
This is the advantage point that these predators need
And on their weaknesses they do feed.
You ran away from home because of the abuse and pain
To find out on the streets it’s still the same.
Thoughts and realizations are in your mind
And to be free will take time.
But with determination you move ahead
And your fears you can put to bed.
You must now help the others by showing them the way
Cause on the streets they cannot stay.
Don’t like to think about how long it took for you to die
when they closed the oven doors on your about to panic
You had hoped for the best against your better judgement
and the 2000 euros used to help you escape the
ISIS injunction enveloping the chalky land you left
Entrusted your hope to those grubby traffickers
and I have the strong sense it could have been me
about to FreakOut since there was no evident escape
No way to extricate yourself up, down, or sideways
but in your mind you must have tried figuring it out
before insanity needled you into remembering
what brought you there to suffocate and beg
for freedom from inside your minds suicide surrender
with one last breath even though the torture that
was left behind had still followed you

Written by Sara Fielder © Sept 2015
Mark Sep 2019
You can call us all, including our dog, your hero men  
So when you need help quickly call 9/11  
Rescue we try and save you we hope, from Gods sun filled heaven    
but sometimes we lose out to the devil in this ash scattered hell    
Climbing the steps and spraying the fire, that nobody's skin should've felt    
Bringing you out, one by one, just hold on tight to my safety belt.
    
We are there to protect you, not to distress you    
Dressed in blue, pistol and taser at side, all in full view    
We arrest the speedsters, traffickers and all the gangsters    
Let the judges decide if the sentence should incur extra time for visitors    
Your lawyers, barristers and familiar jailbird friends    
Will testify, use false alibi to get you off and to make amends.
    
We're racing to the scene with the medicine in the back    
Inside bed, needles and portable CPR machine, just in case of a heart attack    
We will revive the dead, patch up a sore head and even help mother with newborn    
So let us through with ease and don't for a second put your hand on the horn    
For one day, it might be you or your family or even a long lost friend    
That is waiting for the moving medical miracle machine in the end.
    
We dress in disguise, mainly in tree green and dirt black    
On the back of tanks, falling from the sky and we won't take any flak    
We're here with orders from the guy at the top    
So don't get upset at us, when we come back with a hop    
We fight to protect the freedom of all mankind    
Just doing our job and hoping not to leave, anybody behind.
Where Shelter Oct 2019
May Cold

the tablet weather says 57 Fahrenheit
my ****** p.j.’s ******* say who the fk ya kidding?
May cold is different when it is chilled by ocean’s
known associates, cloudy and looking like it’s gonna rain anytime

May cold I think and the Lord laughs,
two weeks of snotty lungs ugliest congestion so bad,
the fancy people won’t sit next to you
in fancy place seats you paid for with last years loot

Your lungs looks ***** sound like a WWI trenches battlefield,
you’re sitting up at 6:00am, wearing
heavy bathrobe, hoodie, sweater and t-shirt,
but your sock-less feet scream whataboutme?

the pile of questions grow and the silence piano accompaniment
teasingly says you’ll never write again, what’s the point, so you write
for the one or two who will, maybe, wince along side of ya,
hoping first coffee delivered by a passing EMT will salve a declining body for an hour

May cold body and soul, left for to see waves, when human traffickers
who work regular jobs not-like-you, you who can’t get hired to spit in the subway,
yeah yeah everything is fine though I know the big D is coming for me,
tingling in the places where the tingling ain’t exactly next to normal

now that time’s only question is the priority of what to read first,
and first thought is of the list of reading things is so big, who knew,
it’s easier to go to pretend-work and waiting for calls that don’t come,
and the home quietude is a welcoming envelopment maneuver but the list chokes

S is fine though my slow slipping under is dragging her down invisibly
to no one but me, and only the grandkids of the crazy parents
make her light up like as only a woman can, carrying three on her horsey back
at age 72, while their couch bound mother scans Facebook thinking she’s crazy

somehow I get trapped in pictures others take and my gross weight
says delete this photo, leave no evidence that the slow killers and his minions
are coming for you, and every advantage you possess is a weight around
the skull that says, you see, I’ll still embrace you if no one else will

worlds insanity trumps the little joy I get when studying birthday photos,
knowing they will be surrendered up for sacrifice someday to a world,
where fresh running water is a past thing, and their DNA will determine what
line and place they are permitted to stand on, the antisemitism roaring its head

took a two day dump finally, which is better than gastric pain sudden,
which comes so stealthily that twice, **** my pants, just avoiding
public embarrassment, “barely,”  he writes smiling, but the credit card bill
always is due, when you get no credit for ******* up a body for68 years

otherwise I am fine, though few read my poems without a caffeine jolt,
and months went by with nothing to add, and then they hauntingly come
as often as I blowout my phlegmatic guts, and write them down to expel them
from a mind that cannot remember words for the thing that changes tv channels

so you ask, and now, maybe you will worry too, the last thing I wanted,
so hard to understand that silence was my gift to you, and every email you send,
makes weep from the idea that someone cares how I fair, and how unfair
that is to the one who cares, and I took 60 minutes to type this, and,

I love you man in ways so deep, I could fertilize you lands soil and your soul

and there could be a poem in that last line but my pointer finger is busy
wiping away tears but don’t worry the tissue box is always nearby
out of date
Ken Pepiton Jun 18
wondering at wonderful things, wonder
being my word,
meaning something to me as sure as
meaning anything to you, or them, the others,

those, there, beyond us, makers of stars
from matter in time, using power
by any name, called to make ready
a place for me.

Centered self-centering, spinning energy and
nought into creamy nougat
sweet and salty

but, E itself, power filled hosts of forces,

ha, some men trust in horses, now measurements,
horsepower, taken in from out,
observe the fact, fine act, great quest
made- p-ting snowball earth phase,

preparation of this place,
for us, not us alone, but us involved,
folded into the batter before the baking.

Co-ignition.
Sudden, at scale,
Massive, at scale as well. Immaterially.

Light first. Nay,
think, others thought this through

I flatter myself that I have discovered---

waste O2.

-- in the span of mind time, autotrophic
timespace where does e come from

phototroph
chemotroph

whence comes stuff, heterotrophs

chemoautotrophs, absolutely
in-credible, how does any mind wonder?

-----------

Stamp my little boy foot and swear,
I shall prove death has no sting.

I shall think
of our sun, source
of life
in our bubble
of being.

It is imagined, by professional learners of such,
that the inter-stellar medium
holds cloud like structures,
in my day we called them nebulae, today
we may surmise, I suppose, promise
together surreal, point to miser's misery,

Midas, Phrygian king, washed clean of his curse.
Baptism at work, in the story of reasons for war.

Was the death to be immediate, or must we wait.
What knowledge bred this means, these letters,
letting us learn the memories,

first stories of broken curses that were first wishes.
We wish we were as wealth, as bling,
the thing, the will to be loved for my own good,
the beast that lay beside the door, waiting,

allusive link to ancient knowledge, used knowns,
knowns used to build the nations whose weapons

must be fed.

And not by bread alone, by my leave,
I learned, the story used to make money
the core reason for war's use of pride,
to make glorious loyalty honorable,
by the time the military mind
matures to use the values,
those to hope for glory,
those minimize truth,
key freedoms known
held under loyal lock down.

Sense.
Common sense, some is not
evenly spread across the gap.

You may never have heard a search,
with helicopters, the after silence,

then, the peace, pure re-
lief as well, laugh let out, you know,
we are invisible,

so we dance where we touch.
Friction ridges caress our valleys,
with swirly rippling Erotes, giggling.

Tuning to a single line of reason,
reasoning I know nothing, as I ought,
I thought, per
haps, gathered happenings, overtime
thinking why in full Kerrigan angst at WHY!
Dunning-Krueger.
Rhetorical quest punctuation, bang. Pre-
tend to pay attention, at the exclamation,
"For crying out loud, don't you know
ANYTHING?"
Rhetorical all caps loudness, registers, in
tentional, attended to,
appropriately,
ignored, as the current opinion
forms followers,
swirls of fast and slow linking interstellar medium

in our wake, as we take life in passing so near,
one mind
one time, see I knew it was me and not you,
who pulled the loose thread to open the sack,
and spill the beans.

Now it's Tuesday,
on time and wisdom, I was thinking,

the noble question B. Franklin proposed

as the noblest in the world:
What good can I do in it?

What good to know do I know?

Well, well, as an interjection, cast
in the word use we are making sense
from
for an instant, now and then,

Yes,
this idea that we exist as related
by lines that link us as fibers in yarn,

conscious use of science, learning
the winding of the bobbin,
and the rhythm of the treadle,

the perfect pinch and firm gentle tug

catch a whisp of wool pulled from distaff
to spindle

and singing all the while, to the muse

---------------
A thread spinner, not a weaver
of novel patterned knots and crosses,
novel, none the less, some olden
but, well, twisted fiber strands,
formed with certain genetic magic
from soil and water and time… I am.
Sure to leave my moment seeming so.

To leave my being so, to let me be,
not the bearer of tales, but the twister.

Some times, well, once, I imagined
spinning ghost turds into threads,

-- the bogus science, bovine male excre-
mental mind boggled constipastory explo-

it. Done, punish me or pay me, I care less.

------------
Not the only version of this knack,
have I,
I've not the rhyming step step slide version,
nor the read out loud oral interpretation version,

permitting
*per- (5)

Proto-Indo-European root meaning
"to traffic in, to sell,"
an extended sense
from root *per- (1) "forward, through"
via the notion
of "to hand over" or "distribute."

It forms all or part of:
appraise;
appreciate; depreciate;
interpret;
praise;
precious; price; & *******
by way of
pornē "*******,"
originally "bought, purchased"
from traffickers in abandoned words,

idled by devious psychsyncing punishing
similar spinning propensities in fluid pre thread
mind windings, ready to retell, as if we all think

we understand the Goldilocks paradox.

Pull your version of the moral in the story,
who do you think Goldilocks symbolized,

deep in the thinking of your child mind?
What color are you, while you imagine
three bears? How forgiving are you
to your invaders?

High Jack,
have you any wool,
we spun the lord's and madam's

and found none for the widow's
children down the lane?

Are ye daft, Poet, mad as lead'll
make ye? Have ye taken to spacing
unkerned letters and lines with old

lead type weights to use gravity assist,

cam, see, loop de loop, and spin and spin,

threads to weave cover,
threads to weave rough leggings,
slow, so slow would be the learning

without notions popping up from nowhere,
as that man called the fool on the hill,
continues to redeem idled words,
and silently sing perhaps praise.

Worthship, measure of effort to enjoy,
get it.

It is the economy,
take joy as yours where you make it.
Peace, too.
---------
and thus not really any of my busy-ness
that I am to mind as my own, strictly
speaking translatable speils as wisdom,

Sophos, herself. per se,
they say she is the spirit in the works,
omakes ur will to make something from our
selves, our advantage as language users,
with letters translated chchchanges
into all understood
by using
simple child morals used
during emperical propagation.

To know wisdom and instruction;
to perceive the words
of understanding;

To receive the instruction
of wisdom, justice, and judgment, and equity;

To give subtilty
to the simple,
to the young man knowledge and discretion.

--- await the call, simple kind of man, listen
did you never read the rules for ready writer
status among the unemployable gifted sifters
of dust amidst the wonders of life in haps past

dare I hook a poem here,
after that very likely the, bluebird of happiness,
flew by me singing, twice, today, per haps

you stumbled into my realm,
I blew my mind in 69, and I am without guile,
no need, no greedy habit crying feed
feed feed the need to grow the talent, eh, weight
and see, fact check me, how heavy
was a talent in pure money
at the moment, back when
the metaphor this fits in as a piece,

was used to test the discerning disciple,

was it Diego? Si, yo crero per
haps, the meaning of things, and the matter
with words, is perceptual, per is a polimental,

many ways perhaps evolve comprehension,
little senses we have in common, luck factors,
time and place chances we be the readers ready

to bring justice and equity
to the beguiled and nonguiled,
while converting the guilty to con-
scientious objection to past proofs re-
proving the efficiency of meandering mind
streams
fluid fiber memory imagined in the Eighties,
here,
my old haunts, hang around,
we meet Suzi Creamcheese, she say, Uready,

we say, may be,
and so it is, with wisdom, James,
and so it is, indeed, first peaceable,
gentle, easy to treat kindly, no warring
spirit meetings of the convinced required,

wisdom works at a word taken for granted,
idling at stop signs where you looked both ways
and listened, as a child, and you escaped death,

time and again, what nearly killed you, did not,
and your life has not been dull, but worth it,
did it, with a happy ever, after all's said and done,

but, that won't happen here today.
Old war reasons asked the mystery to seem too easy to believe...sso I volunteered to lead the search for the old way men made haps gentle enough to ride.
Justice lies in the interest of the forceful
And the wrath of means that are unlawful
A brutal curve during 1800's
African prison system was brought through
Guiltless spent time in cells
Consequence of the pass laws
No ground to stand
Observing the defeat over their land
No legacy to mend
With their bare fits and wits,
They had inheritance to shed  
Civilisation introduced to Afrikans
The ideology is a slow process
Resounding failures
frontal setbacks,
Bright darkness
Even today
You and I is a witness
Or you missed that ?

Now
Last of all comes the severe man,
About whom we have to wonder,
We abide as Slave citizen
He came through a form of a revered writing
Wearing a complexion of the slave master
Whence is he, or is he an enigma
or his coming is a paradox
Does he exist as a palindrome
in happiness or in misery?
In length or in depth
In fact,
There is,
however,
A list of grieving interrogations I have,
Which I should like to consider first.
Most of them are illegal,
Some of them are liberal
None of them are answered
Yet weakened in various degrees
By the strength of reason and law scenes.
I mean those which are awake when the
Reasoning powers are asleep,
Which get up and travel around without rights
Without any knowledge of self or state of belonging;
With a potential of conceivable accusations or crime,
However cruel or unnatural,
Of which,
In imagination,
They may not be guilty.


Very True, I declare;
But when a man’s pain beats drastically;
Conforming under a feast of sorrow
failure comes home to reside  
Just before fear of prosecutions goes to rest,
The solution is a systematic arrest
Which remains being the nature of the rest,
Invoked characteristics lays tests,
The visions which he has on his bed
Are least irregular and defective.
Which marvels out in sleep.
Arguing like a temperamental insubordinate,
That he who Is mistaken about the crime
Is a jailor in that he is mistaken?
Or that he who stumble in poverty or liberty
Is a poverty-stricken or libertarian at the time
he is misunderstood,
In respect of the error?
Give or take the era, he is lame
True, we say that the game
Is the fact is that neither the poverty-stricken nor any other
cause of life course and the skill ever made any sense
In so far as he is what his name implies;
Soiled with dirt and false diseases
until their skill fails them,
and then they cease to be
skilled ******,
smart drug traffickers,
artisans that paint with blood to be even
Not even the confused sage with no name
is present at the time when he is
what his name implies;
though he is commonly said to
misjudge,
misremember,
drift
To stray and roll until the truth slips up
out of bed and that’s never sad
While he stumble until he trips up
and I also adopted the unremarkable
mode of misunderstanding.
But to be perfectly accurate,
since you adore accuracy,
Would it be prudent to declare that the ruler,
In so far as there is a swayer, is not liable to error,
Or measuring the greatness of the dishonourable,
as far as that is the case,
Never commanded for the interest of the hopeless;
Should I rest my chase or less,
wake up read the book of those who offers little with no hope
Or else,
The area of imprisonment
would be minimized,
no chance to be analysed
and the subject is designed
to execute commands;
and therefore,
as I said at first and
now
repeat with me,
Justice lies in the interest of the forceful.
True (terrific) title: Trump's truckling tutored troopers...;
wily word wizard worried,
where world wide web wickedly wends.

Triumphantly tenaciously (try to) trample treacly
traffickers target timid testifiers traducing,
their traitorous tractable toxic troglodyte:
today transition toward
totalitarianism tidily trends.

Quasimoto (querulously) queries, quivers, quakes:
queasiness quotient quarantine quelled qualm;
qua quacking quaffing quota quips:
quicksand quits quagmire quashing:
quintessential quarrelsome;
quintillionth queued questioner.

Numbskull noodles notorious nonsense:
nincompoop netizen nimbly navigates;
nowadays nauseating news necessitates
nameless nervous negativistic nattering nabob;
Nome nomad nudges, numerates,
nurtures... narcolepsy.

Knowledgeable knave; kindhearted
keen, kooky kvetching king kibitzer;
kindles kickass kinskip (kaffeeklatsch);
kneading Keats kinfolk karma.

His highness, herewith hooligan;
helpmate hermit hamstrung Harmit Harms;
humiliating, harried, ** hum humorous hokum;
habitual half hearted hookers happily hollow;
hallelujah!

Exceptional exertion earnest endeavor exercising
especial expending energy excluding essential/
exact entities even everyday eminent eccentric
experienced exhaustion epilogue.
Gypsy Dec 2020
Reality
A worthless idol
Propelled by hypocrisy and sycophancy
Into this abyss of sham,
The human creature
Selfish, abusive, vile
Society - cynical and ferocious
Traffickers in necessities
The mediocre and unscrupulous
The apotheosis of crooked politics
Imperfectly democratic
Greedy without end
Which refines the vices
Our souls corrupted in the days of Genesis
The pride of man's hopes
Has burdened itself with sadness


Gypsy
Ryan O'Leary May 2021
Is the only benefit of being
a Catholic, an opportunity
of visiting a church in any
country of the world and
witnessing a crucified Jew?

It does beg to wonder, as
to why, throughout history,
such depictions have been
the mascot for the chosen
people. Is Karma Hereditary?

If Shakespeare was a vegetarian
would Antonio have been permitted
to pay Shylock back with a pound of
beetroot? Well he wasn’t, besides,
traffickers prefer blood money.

— The End —