Archives

Cruising For Bruising

In The Mood For Battle

Punching bags are for sissies. I want to kick ass!
With my words and with muscle of might I command
Anyone of you who thinks you can take me on.
I believe in commotion. Pleasantry begone!
The fine Art of the Bruise is what I understand
And my cruising for just that is par for my class.

When fueled up on conspiracy and the right news
All the hatred within me, like wildfires out west,
Uncontrollably burns. And with billowing smoke
I inflict irritation… enough to provoke
Armageddon or some homegrown fishing conquest.
I am easy for fascist dictators to use.

Intellect I have not, yet I’m sharp and direct
With sclerotic opinions, half-truths, and plain lies.
I’ll convince a few people that I have some wit
All with outrageous theories and heated bullshit.
I’ll admit not that my biggest fear are the wise.
My brute force doesn’t phase them. It has no effect.

To intimidate others I take the fine lead
Of the word’s perfect model. Stagnation of heart
In a cesspool of selfishness dictates to me
Through his high public office just what I must see.
In my humble opinion, the man is quite smart.
His suggestion to act out is all that I need.

Repair Works

Wanting Power To Make Changes

Any system quite broken by constant abuse
Everyday for a long time needs urgent repair.
People eager and qualified to do just that
Now prepare for the challenge of moral combat.
Their support is akin to the rockets with glare
That we haven’t had sight of since hell was let loose.

Radical are the changes that need to be made
To malfunctioning structures that have been in place
For too long and were implemented from abroad.
History will devote much to this era’s fraud
Running foot loose and rampant. What utter disgrace
Is a sodomized country consumed by charade.

When in contact with criminals folk become ill
And receptive to logic that elevates crime
To a complex fecality meant to portray
Every act as benign. What a price they must pay
For the harm done to so many in a short time.
What will be returned to us is our civil will.

Time for digging beneath the fake surface has come.
Fairly soon the illusion dissolves into dust.
And the focus on issues of human concern
Elevates the Repair Works that we may return
To a functioning freedom in genuine trust
That we’ll never return to what we’ve survived from.

Business Communication

Social Intercourse

Social life and community all taking place
In a healthy environment under fine rule
Is inherently well. The business it creates
Is a boon to the welfare of all fifty states.
When the nation is no longer run by a fool
We’ll be free once again but with hell to erase.

Approaching one’s authorities to seek a raise
Brings a chill to the mindset. What leadership shows
Now is that only by deception one achieves
While within the subconscious the true self receives
Information contrary to what an ass knows
From a selfish commercial that gushes false praise.

Important is communication among we
With the threat to our voices approaching head on.
Will there be a collision between wrong and right?
What we can do is speak to our full heart’s delight
About what can take place when the asshole is gone.
Resurrection is eminent as it should be.

Notwithstanding my status and station, I’m armed
To the teeth with an intellect sharper than most,
And with some understanding of how evil works
When allowed to run rampant among ruling jerks,
And a passion for living a life I can toast
In a land where democracy cannot be harmed.

If The Message Is Love

A Call To Heart

If the message is making something great again
What’s implicitly stated is something is wrong
Perpetrated by those of the bad other side.
Citizens stick by their sides and with heated pride.
Differing ideologies can’t make us strong.
It has never occurred. We know not if or when…

In a spirit of compromise some of us speak
Of what we’ve steered away from in these past few years.
It’s so nice to remember that there are those who
With good ethical values perceive what they do
As a karmic directive. I long for the cheers
Internationally for the love that we seek.

If the words of a leader are meant to divide
And collapse our democracy, can this be right?
Freedom has gone asunder. There’s no rule of law
As the assets of Russia exploit every flaw
In this nation’s foundation. There is hope despite
All the current calamity and perverse pride.

If the message is hope We The People return
To a fresh stable governance, what must be done
To support reemergence of relative peace
Is to vote in huge numbers that it will decrease
The effect of outside interference so none
But our own get to manage what is our concern.

Considerable Credit

Strength Of Spirit

Most effective reforms in professional life
Come with planning and effort throughout the long haul.
Energy to achieve goals may not be enough.
Often getting ahead means one has to get tough.
Superheros, when female and seemingly small,
Clarify the executive role of the wife.

  As opposed to the housewife and field wife there are
Wives of infinite feather. Prepare for the breed
Who no longer feel threatened nor held firm in place.
Women are more evolved among the human race.
A new heart centered governance shall intercede
So that we begin healing the deep ugly scar.

What indeed am I saying? Am I not a man
With no scant inclination to other than straight
From the big book of manhood? It is a delight
To admit what is truthful. What is wrong from right
Becomes clearer with each passing moment. The fate
Of the current establishment is now our plan.

The innate social nature is common to all.
Our survival depends on how we get along
And how healthy we are as a unified whole.
Female leadership is more in touch with the soul
And the heart of a nation. Could this be so wrong?
If it halts our extinction it is our best call.

Social And Professional Standing

The Horizontal Ladder

We rejoice when we see there’s a viable team
Who will work with integrity. Virtue Is Strength!
The psychotic reality now steps aside
For the best of our nature to take on with pride
Cleaning up the disaster. So now, to what length
Will the evil one stoop to secure his regime?

Minions quake in their britches as truth filters in
And with slowness sufficient to ruthlessly clear
All the webs of corruption and moral deceit
That their souls had collected. Their coming defeat
Arouses celebration. Street dancing and cheer
In great magnitude worldwide bursts forth from within.

 I believe in real people – not pumped up balloons
That are pampered in privilege and without soul
Nor connection to objective reality.
Reputations of humans may be weaponry
But they beat those of plastic with greed as their goal.
My vote cast is, in short, to get rid of buffoons.

Human standing should mean something as it once did
Way back in the ‘before time.’ How near is relief
To hear news about issues of human concern
Rather than who the tyrant has chosen to spurn?
We The People United are firm in belief
That the crime done in private will soon be unhid.

Not All That Obvious

Calm Beyond The Storm

Restlessness and impatience is damp in the air.
Condensation transparent on one side is seen.
Yet the temperatures, far enough in degree,
Are the reason that people are able to see
And to mark with a message. The surface between
Atmospheres opposite and abreast is our prayer.

I’m fed up with authority. I’ve seen enough.
Its deceit and corruption decay from within
While without proper sense of the people it serves.
Justice now has no meaning. Its structure deserves
Absolute demolition. Perhaps we’ll begin
A new era with folks who are more up to snuff.

 But that’s only my message. I know there are those
Who believe these are good times… or end times. To them
I would offer concurrence. Mankind is insane.
If I posed opposition not much would I gain.
I’ll propel how I feel in the form of my phlegm
Down the drain with ammonia. I long for repose.

What is felt is a nightmare. Not able to see
Through the darkness, I can but to know there is light.
Once I saw it and knew that it wasn’t a dream
Nor a government robbed by an evil regime.
It is Not All That Obvious what’s wrong from right.
All I want is a safe place where I can be me.

Realignment

Regaining Control

Who’s all for making changes that offer relief
From the hell that we suffer all due to our greed?
Don’t all answer at once. It’s a hard thing to do.
How much more has to happen before it gets through
To our weakened entranced states? How will we be freed
From the trauma befallen a nation in grief?

Questions do need some answers when lives are at stake
Even though they’re withheld as is so with a scam.
If we’re not meant to find them then we have no hope
And citizenship means that in horror we cope
With a lawless commander who can’t give a damn.
Will it be him or us first who comes wide awake?

Those who line up with evil at some point will fall
Hard and heavy like towers not built to withstand
The bulldozer of justice and popular rule.
The swamp is now a virtual Russian cesspool.
Government reflects not how a thug plays his hand
But how well the top leader will uphold the law.

There’s an art to influence – a science as well
Discerning the intentions of others is part
Of the art when the dealing done behind closed doors
Involves personal payoffs and rumors of wars.
What we need is a miracle or a new start.
In this case, they’re the same. There’s no shame as I tell.

A Critical Culmination

Civil War?

Where the heat becomes rampant the red and the blue
Have become more responsive as social unrest
Takes a bite out of boredom. The forth of July
Satisfied for a short while. Big noise may be why.
Anything done with outrage and safety is stressed.
It’s one hell of a hot year. What have we to do?

Algebraic division has now taken place.
Polynomial notions pair off and take sides.
Whether they are most trivial or of some weight
Every thought is now sucked into binary fate.
Critical Culmination for one who divides
For the world is a climax delivered in grace.

Confounding limitations highlight this hot year.
Heat stroke has taken many and made them insane
To the point they’re a danger to themselves and me.
I cannot know another’s thoughts, but I can see
In their eyes a deep hatred and utter disdain.
And they don’t even know me! Is this due to fear?

In the grip of frustration a populous holds
To the truth each has known. There is no turning back
To what hasn’t been working to everyone’s good.
We are due for big changes. In all likelihood
We will have a new leader who isn’t a quack.
We The People dictate how the future unfolds.

Passive Submissive Disorder

Perverse and Lousy Sex

What I see as perversion, does my own become
Something sharp in a haystack that dares to be found?
Sexual is the nature of horny old men
Who assume their positions and copulate when
Any hat dropped by dominance in the background
Demands perfect performance within the world slum.

Some devolve into street hoes. The drive to get slammed
Every which way but sane for the right price is theirs’.
The aggressor who owns one controls in a way
That long since became public. Remember that day?
He will keel for the enemy, but… Hey, who cares?
His disgusting dysfunction is due to be damned.

It’s too much information as golfing he’ll go
In a pout to the nation. We get on his nerves.
Yes, we’re messing with you, friend. You need to be gone
With the wind and the horses you dreamt here upon.
He’s afraid of his partner who he knows deserves
An up front confrontation. Why put on a show?

Always more, the outrageous within the absurd
Entertains and delights most the world everyday
As each new day a new stain is seen on his soul.
Light of day shall reveal what can make again whole
All who suffer the trauma. Begone I do pray.
Sex should not be an issue. That’s how it’s preferred.

Be Flexible

Readjust Thinking

Telling folks to Be Flexible is an insult
To the blow become rigid with focused intent
To endanger composure and relative health.
If our leaders were concentrated not on wealth
But the growth of the nation would it then prevent
Disillusionment? Progress would be the result.

When the house is on fire and the managers of
Firefighters are more cognizant of the cost
Of the water that’s needed to put the fire out,
Then our situation is hopeless beyond doubt.
I have faith in the system, but something is lost.
What I feel is nowhere near patriotic love.

 Rubber bands in tight balls are we as we whiz by
One another attempting to do what we can
To regain some wholeheartedness in how we live
Day to day through the crisis. What else would we give?
We The People can implement a better plan
To enact restoration or give up and die.

We are not made of rubber, but we are indeed
Flexible in our stamina and strength of will
To defend what we need to before it’s too late.
As it stands our future is determined by fate
And by those whose own needs they would rather fulfill.
What it takes is a village to cancel out greed.

Delays And Delusions

Huge Challenge To Overcome

It is hard work to hike across ground that is parched
As it is to skip unnoticed over the law
Of the land overheated by social unrest.
Is this why we consider our nation the best?
Some world leaders are best at exploiting our flaw
As they curse the land where freedom fighters had marched.

Leaders transacting business for personal gain
Undermine the legality built to withstand
Infiltration by powers who want to grab hold
Of our treasured democracy and make it fold
To the wrath of dictatorship over this land.
Are we destined to suffer and endure the pain?

Our Delays And Delusions are hell to behold.
Even in celebration it’s hard to forget
What is felt. The solution is not far away.
Can we have enough faith in our election day?
The last time, We The People were filled with regret
For the ones who are paid to do as they are told.

From point A to point B is a treacherous course
Notwithstanding support from where it can be found.
Do I make it my business to know what is right?
I am left with poor vision amid this dark night
Of the soul of the nation. Do I stand my ground
Or do nothing? The latter would welcome remorse.

Bombs Bursting In Air

Surreal Celebration

Am I not patriotic if I can’t believe
That the red glare holds anything close to his heart
But the fall of the nation? Bombs Bursting In Air
Is an image of hope for those deep in despair
Because their independence makes them not a part
Of the whole they belong to. I’m not so naïve.

The incendiary nature of air warfare
Evolved into poetic expression because
Of what took place in Baltimore some time ago.
They defied the attack of the British, we know.
We commit that to memory and give applause
To the brave ones who fought hard that threat from the air.

It’s an ongoing story. We still are at war
With ourselves while the British we’ve made an ally
‘Til the red glare destroys that, as he tends to do
At the whim of his leader who he bows down to.
What’s become of this land now is such a far cry
From what had been intended. What hell is in store?

What bursts now is pandemic. A fever descends
Upon us with a viciousness unparalleled
In our vast human history. And the red glare
Is a constant reminder to all who must care
That we take back our freedom that now is withheld.
We shall not see the day when democracy ends.

Hurtful Arguments

“Dooooooooooode!”

Dissolution of family feathers the cap
Of specific world leaders. The United States
Is an opportune land where democracy reigns.
We’re a huge-cunted whore and nobody complains.
It’s a wakeup face slap to know they rule our fates.
Convoluted mechanics leaves us in a trap.

It begins with the family. Tension is there
And has been from the git go. It then preexists
Due to shallow upbringing or character flaw
Or whatever. The human is subject to law.
Any mind kin to Satan’s by nature consists
Of the drive to manipulate over the air.

We’re a nation divided. We know for a fact
That our cold civil warfare world leaders exploit.
Yet we’re doomed to feel helpless. The slow motion pace
Of recovery seconds the slap in the face.
Will we stand for another? The master adroit
At assessing behavior has studied our act.

We’re a door-matted Cancer. Our wide open ways
Means that we swim with creatures that will do us harm.
And when we least expect it we’re arguing for
Or against some tense issue, and we beg for more.
One would think a pandemic would make us disarm
But our strange human nature is damned to amaze.

Evasive Maneuvers

Untidy Reality

Strong desires and anxieties speed up the game
As it’s seen by no others. Perhaps if I hide
Far away then the madness will start making sense.
Either way I am doomed and I have no defense.
I wish more white supremacists were on my side
Then I’d win reelection and cast off my shame.

I’ve always been evasive. There’s no other way.
If innate paranoia of being without
Is the root of my problem then I must proceed
With a coldblooded ruthlessness focused on greed
Let me not know the truth that I’m filled with self-doubt
And just listen to everything I have to say.

Running low on maneuvers, in panic I fear
The nightmare in slow motion as clearly I see
Through my mask of illusion. The harm I have done
Is not even an issue. It might have been fun
If the folks I commanded were loyal to me
And not to the damned country. I don’t hold it dear.

I just wish I could walk off and never come back.
This deal was such a lousy one. What have I gained?
I’m now driven insane and my health is a wreck.
All the help I appointed were pains in the neck.
Somehow I feel my exit will be unexplained.
The whole world knows already that I am a quack.

Get A Mask!

Incumbent Departure

Get A Mask, valued countrymen, while supplies last!
Since this hoax is the real thing, I’ve got a great deal.
Stock up now on my Trump mask. The money you save
You can use to support me. I cannot behave
So I’ll need a small fortune. I’ve none to conceal
But I do have an unworthy financial past.

Get A Mask because I say you must show respect
To me as the one person who knows anything.
I’m surrounded by lions and tigers and bears
And, Oh My… a few assholes! But nobody cares.
Get your big discount coupon. I’ll need you to sing
To the tune of my victory. Then you’ll collect.

Why have I changed my tune so abruptly, you ask?
I must act presidential or give it a try
When I’m backed into corners. The oath that I took
Is a lie as I say it again. I’m A Crook.
You’ll support my campaign fund if you’d only buy
A huge bunch of my product. Be up to the task.

OutThere Outdareyaquine

The Team Player's Cure

Have you heard of his new drug? It’s really out there.
May our minds remain mangled. We love him to Death!
Anything he suggests not only will we try

But we’ll will our souls to him in case we may die.
The commander is chiefly of virulent breath
And it bothers us not that he just doesn’t care.

May the hoax elevate us in these final days
To the stature of manhood with God on our side.
Who alone can out dare us and keep a cold face?
We don’t care what he’s taking. Therefore no disgrace
Will he earn from we sick ones. We take utmost pride
In our silk-suited orange ape. To him we give praise.

The Fifth Avenue massacre is in full swing
And it takes place all over. No state will be saved.
As he keeps reaching out there he’ll grab the right cure
For ourselves and the unworthy. We shall endure
All that his dare subjects us to. We are depraved.
We’ve no sense of reality nor does our king.

Power To Make A Difference

Enhanced Ability To Influence Others

Some may state with conviction that we have no rights.
And it’s true. We all know it yet say it’s not so.
It’s a knee jerk reaction. We don’t speak the worst
Because it’s not ‘appropriate.’ Strong is the thirst
For exposing all falsehood and every sideshow
That’s designed to deceive as our patience ignites.

Worked up into a fever and hitting the streets
In attempting to cause change to happen is bold.
Like the shades of a rainbow we channel the light
Of a new understanding. We gain more insight
Into what works in contrast to what’s become old.
We can’t watch life on TV while drunk in our seats.

All the power within us combines to confront
What we know as injustice in broadest daylight.
We need not match the arrogance offered by those
Of the current crime syndicate. We do oppose
The defeat of democracy. That Is Our Right.
Can we wait while establishment pulls the next stunt?

Our authority natural is by decree.
Proclaiming We The People are stronger than they
Who are few and untidy in how they behave,
We will yet come together to ride the new wave
Of compassion and sanity. Unto that day
We will act much in unison and with esprit.

Skillful Invader

Emotional Transformation

The subconscious invasion of news gaining strength
Reinvigorates oldness of resident ways
Of compulsive behavior among humankind.
It may also be true that it’s all in the mind
Of the Skillful Invader who struggles most days
Seeking some understanding. One should to what length?

All the hidden agenda that now evade sight
Become known through perception intuitively.
What can weaken suspicion that, on a grand scale,
Utter chaos and outright transgression prevail?
It is not the illusion but reality
That would dare to confuse what is wrong with what’s right.

I can learn what I need to know and leave the rest
For collective unconscious to solve over time.
There may be much aggression in times drawing near
To significant changes. Should I live in fear
That I may be caught up in unspeakable crime?
Skills that I have for coping are not quite the best.

I’ll invade the invasion for what I may gain
In the moments of silence while I am at peace
With events that must happen to turn things around,
Not to what was before, but a nation more sound.
Greed and crime among leaders won’t instantly cease
But, at least we’ll have returned to something more sane.

Do The Stars Sanction Hatred?

Cosmic Interference

Do you know Robert Cosmar? If so, it’s a shame.
I assume that this messenger knows where it hurts…
Deep within every fiber connecting the heart
To some semblance of order. Why would one take part
In the dredging up evil. His forecast diverts
Any hope of relief that things won’t stay the same.

I’m an old fart myself, but I don’t fuck the stars
Into finding sick patters to highlight, then spew
What’s been found to the scum who would give one applause.
Any craft that predicts dissolution of laws
Is a barrel of bitchcraft. Yet, it’s nothing new.
Keep that shit to yourself, dude! I have enough scars.

Gather ‘round by the camp fire and hear grandpa speak
Of this beautiful science and elegant art.
What he says may upset you if you hope for change
But if you’re a sick bastard his words aren’t so strange.
He has some information, but he’s not that smart.
We The People have Free Will to Change what is bleak.

Do Nothing!

Things Work Out The Way They Should

Take It Easy! Do Nothing! What more could go wrong?
And it’s all a façade anyway. Can’t you see?
There are no flames around you. No devils appear
To abuse and torment you. So why would you fear?
Hell is almost like heaven. Where else could you be?
We adore the orange Satan and sing but his song.

Don’t behave in a manner that shows you’re uptight
Unless you have the right cause and weapon in hand
To support our dear godhead. We worship him so.
Every word that he speaks is the truth we should know.
Nothing else shall be listened to by his command.
We’ve returned to a leader who beams pearly white.

He is our lord and savior. The worst of our breed
Is far better than the best that others produce.
Keep that firm in your mindset – that is if you’re white.
Otherwise, it’s a warning. We’re do for a fight
To the death of our souls. May our hatred run loose.
Yet, for now, we may be forced to keep it low-keyed.

Recursive Assertion

Over Exposure of Ego

Do I hear a loud echo? And could it be me?
With the voices of others it’s so hard to tell.
Deep within a sound chamber enclosed by four walls
I can’t hear myself feeling amid all the calls
For a cure to psychosis and trickle down hell.
What’s become of this nation one clearly can see.

Knowing I’m not alone, need I know something more?
We’ve been made to feel helpless – not by a disease
Of a virulent nature, but by wholesale greed.
We The People are stronger not feeling in need
To succumb to the bullshit that everyone sees.
There’s a pimp in the white house, and we are the whore.

Justice comes hard and swiftly to those who are poor.
But it does not exist for the thugs now in charge.
Evil is the one threat that, if not kept in check,
Does take over the engine and cause a train wreck
That third world leaders envy. Our fate, by and large,
Is determined by what we are forced to ignore.

Et Tu, Toupee?

Vanity in the Breeze

Who would want to come near me? I’ll chop off their heads
At the least provocation. They get on my nerves.
I teach them how to worship. They’re good for a while
But they do have their limit. When it’s reached then I’ll
Play the innocent victim who rightly deserves
Full relief from my office which now hangs by threads.

Would they all dare betray me as I have done those
Who, because of my rashness, fall prey to my wrath?
Since I’m such a great genius, I thought I’d do well.
Circumstances now show me the worst side of hell.
Would some guidance from Satan reveal the right path
Through this turbulent tenure with hate to impose?

My delusions protect me from what is to come.
The back hand of a gentle breeze brings into view
Some vice versa to vanity captive in truth.
What is much more disgusting and truly uncouth
Is that my poor performance and pride blown askew
Is the best I can offer… But don’t call me dumb.

{Title and Content Inspired by Autumn of Black and Orange Tarot. Thanks!}

Nationalistic Retribution

Confronting Calamity

What is up with you, Nigga! You act like a fool
Who instead of fried chicken prefers the Big Mac.
We elected a black man, then did it again.
White men can’t let that happen once more. If and when
Someone other ascends, they unleash an attack
On the core of our government by tyrant rule.

Some folks are rather lazy. They shuffle around.
But they can be of value when whipped into shape
By the pale overseer who stays overseas
And revives racial hatred, the human disease
Where when one is infected there is no escape.
In this nation of ours, good white niggers abound.

It’s a stark retribution that’s now taking place
In plain sight with no pretense nor feeling of shame.
Indeed, those with inferior genes will feel pride
In full-blown civil warfare. They take it in stride.
Psychotically prophetic is the end game.
Maybe then all will know that spirits don’t have race.

Banana Republican

Nationalized Corruption

White man want a banana? Just follow the lead
On the path through entitlement to the big top.
Everyone loves a circus. To watch knuckles drag
Makes for prime entertainment. The wealthy may brag
Of an elite republic against the backdrop
Of its qualified citizens who can’t succeed.

That the course that we’re taking resembles that of
Other nations corrupted by way of our greed
Is the hugest of ironies. But that’s the way
The republican party must dish out dismay.
The essential banana becomes monkey feed.
They’ve the right and the willingness to push and shove.

Bananas, as they perish, are home to fruit flies
Who suck up the last sweetness before the decay
While the skin remains virgin except for the change
In the texture and color. This circus is strange
As it once was a party that had its own say
But is now one that real folk are well to despise.

The Charmer

Graceful Command And Control

Pre-perceiving her nature, the beast, made aware
Of a comforting spirit, will flow to her lead.
For within the reflection two souls intertwine.
Consciousness is of caring wherein love will shine.
In the heat of compassion both spirits are freed
From the will to be separate and not a pair.

Gracefulness is The Charmer. Her delicate touch
Is the essence of masterful feminine reign.
Mighty forces are tamed not by brutal control
But by interconnection achieved through each soul.
What it takes is a Charmer to win a campaign
Not a white male Russianlican. We’ve had too much!

Can we stand resolution of our lethal flaws?
That will take much evolving. Perhaps centuries
Will have passed before humans have learned how to love
On a wide enough scale that no one is above
Any other. Until such time, honor’s trustees,
In the form of fine women, shall tame that which was.

Hay, Yo, Pom Pay Your Way O…

The Birthplace of Kansas

You have small banana, and you need to go home
Where some munchkins may follow. The yellow brick road
Finds its way into Kansas for prophets of God.
What is pompous to Him indeed is a façade.
Meeting up with Him soon means your heart may explode
Due to pressure and guilt from the soul search syndrome.

Live the red state of mind. I don’t need to be kind.
Head and shoulder the hayseed to see just how far
The bread basket of pompenstance reaches for fame.
Bought credentials and background fulfill the end game
To appear to be Christian to placate the czar.
Now I know I’m in Kansas. It screws with my mind.

Spirituality is a thing become vile
In a mixture of hogwash to whitewash the truth.
“Ad astra per aspera?” Why shoot for the stars?
Can your difficulties be more sacred than ours?
Dare I turn my nose up to the arrogant youth?
Therapeutic it is, therefore, it is worthwhile.

Witnesses For The Defense

Motley Travesty

Any thug deserves witnesses for a mock trial
Even though they’re not relevant. This must be done
For the crook in the white house. There’s no other way
Senators can acquit him. Those bought can’t betray
What malignancy sources them. Others must shun
What amounts to a shit show in full circus style.

Why not call in Buggs Bunny and Bozo the Clown?
I’m sure they could bring clarity. Truth they would speak.
Even though they’re not real creatures, that’s just the point.
I could conjure a few after smoking a joint.
Colonel Sanders could testify with bone in cheek
To help give truth and justice the hearty thumbs down.

With the famed Harvard Douchewits and cum-stain-dress Starr
Nothing else may be needed for honor’s defeat
In this one of more battles surely to take place
In the halls of democracy. “It’s a disgrace,”
The defendant must utter in stark blind conceit
Until We as a nation retake who we are.

Carrotface

Psychotic Armaggedon

People know of my orange glare. It’s now world renowned.
All I have in this world is my balls and my face.
Who puts all things together? I do. I trust Me.
You’ll get used to the rust flush eventually.
I’m entitled to everything due to my race
Even though I’m not qualified nor am I sound.

This great nation is pussy that begs to get fucked.
I’m the best one to do it with help from my boss.
In my own right I’m ruthless but he is supreme.
I endeavor to be like him. That is my dream.
What I crave is some bitch’s face to cum across.
I’ve a God given right to abuse and obstruct.

All cockroaches and rabbits succumb to my rule.
They will eat of my face and drink my precious blood.
They will bow down and worship unto my command.
Those who take a good fucking sit at my right hand.
History will ensure that my name will be mud.
I’ll be known through eternity as The Orange Fool.

Stable Genius

Horse Sense

Presidents need a stable? This one must think so.
Does he think that the ‘s’ word begins with a ‘c’?
If a c-table jenius could ever exist,
This one fits that description, though he may insist
That he can play both roles most superlatively.
What the hay may be chewed by is now become show.

He’s the boss of his stable. His berated beasts
Bow in brutal benevolence broad-based in fear.
Commanding them to whinny to will of his whim
Can never be sufficient to pacify him.
While alone in the stable, thought renders austere.
Hay becomes less fulfilling as everyday feasts.

As his soul places women abreast to the mare,
And as ample uprising becomes the world cry,
We may know he’d have made a fine pimp were he black
And brought up in the real world of danger and lack.
Blacks who do become president don’t cheat and lie
To the hoodwinked cult following who’d keep them there.

 For the head of a horse’s ass, horse sense is keen
In its handling of stables and sorting manure
From the hay most appropriate for state tv.
Smart is he who can horse around? Let that not be
What the nation must settle for, lest we endure
Leadership by the stupidest ass ever seen.

sambo donaldo

Ridicule

What an odd nigger sambo! That’s not a white face.
It’s more of a rust color due to failing health.
No doctor will go near him to tell him he’s ill.
He’ll decry what may help him. He’s caught in the thrill,
Having worldwide attention on his perceived wealth.
He cannot see that soon he will bow in disgrace.

‘Such a little orange sambo, this eight-year-old child
In the form of an old man with many fake toys.
Superficial connections work out as best friends.
How important decisions are made all depends
On how much adulation the ego enjoys
In the heat of the moment. Often, they’re reviled.

Yes, I’ll mock your behavior. I’ll put your ass down!
That is, if that is possible. You May Be There
At the pit of a black hole with inverse effect,
Pushing everything outward. With all disrespect,
I will cheer in this new year when you are laid bare.
Your recalcitrant flock will see that you’re a clown.

Butt Science Asshology

Climate Fate

Climate science is one that has taken some heat.
Many pseudo sciences become the real thing
After years of persistence with none to oppose
What their goals and their premises are. In the throes
Of emergent world crises, what hope might they bring
That the butt holding office will soon see defeat?

The fine art of Asshology thus came about
When the need to decipher the demonic realm
Manifested in essence some three years ago
When we bent for a butt fucking, rock hard and slow.
To predict when perversion will reach overwhelm
Is the goal of Asshology without a doubt.

So the chart of the asshole one needs to construct.
Fairly gross a procedure, it’s fundamental
As a tool to make sense of the drama at play.
Wise folk eons before us could foresee this day.
Human actions are finite in time’s rationale.
We know well he who lives to Abuse and Obstruct.

Force Space

babel

Space Is First of the last of the final frontiers.
We are best to ‘Control the Ultimate High Ground.’
In defending our space junk, we must plan ahead

Making sure space weapons are strategically spread.
Once our force was a weak one, but we’ll be renowned.
Reinvention of Star Wars is how this appears.

We have space to make force with. Life functions because
There is space for action and reaction to be
Coexistent and interdependent. As such,
Space for Force speaks of strength, so it’s encouraged much.
This invites thoughts of Babel by spatial degree.
As we look toward the top, we return to what was.

‘As above, so below’ is an apt axiom,
A bit tainted though, in this inhuman regard.
We’ve made hell of earth’s surface, its water and air.
We are now seven billion, yet not enough care.
Space remains ever sacred and will not be marred
By a fool who thinks this tower should earn income.

Erection Meddling

Intercollusion

When we hold our erections, we want none involved.
We abhor interference from forces outside
This place we call our own. Keep your hand far away.
If you can’t respect boundaries, at least obey
Your own sense of perversion? Why sully your pride?
You should get your subconscious, through Sigmund, resolved.

Our erections are sacred. We hold them freely.
It’s our right and an honored tradition. That’s why
Sex abuse is illegal throughout most the globe.
As your winged, peeping monkeys watch as we disrobe,
We would wish it’s good for you, but that you not try
To tell us that a hand job from you is our key.

I’m prepared for Erectionfest this time around.
The last time that we had one, a strange, foreign touch
Assaulted my excitement. My heat took a dive.
For the next, we’re enhanced with a stronger sex drive.
Once again, our erections we venerate much.
We now know where that hand is. Indeed it’s been found.

Worst Case Scenarios

Agony of National Fever

What if our choice becomes ill and Trump wins again?
Incomplete multi-whammies are par for the course
As the hot flaming golf carts careen in the blind.
Who can’t see We The People are through being kind?
It would provide due justice to see some remorse
In the small group of dastardly, arrogant men.

Yet, would that be the worst case? We could burn in hell
By executive edict for due disrespect.
A scorched land of slave owners and slaves we could be.
Brutal force would be used. People would disagree.
More like animals we’ll be with tribe to protect.
Civil war will destroy us before we get well.

The spectra of scenarios given the gut
From the mind boiling over with deep discontent
Is the illness that ails every breath of cool air.
How much longer will I know but rabid despair?
Using Christ as the tool to bring on our descent
Is the nature of why we are in this sick rut.

Metamorphic McMagnet

Narcotic Nostalgia

Seems the AC’s and DC’s are at it again
Like a scene at McDonalds among dueling fries.
It was back in the old days when burgers were best.
Feeding fast food to congress would be the best test
Of intestinal fortitude and compromise
For a body of divided women and men.

There’s a magnetization that has taken place.
It’s called ‘polarization’ to those in the field
Of magnetic alignment to one of the two
Choices possible, maintaining one’s narrow view.
When there’s been enough outrage, perhaps truth will yield
A safe space for deep healing and ultimate grace.

That which soon will degauss us cannot come through men
Nor through whites nor rich old folk detached and aloof.
It will come with our women, the young and nonwhite.
We The People are varied. We each bear the right
To full representation. We are junk food proof.
May we cherish our digestive health once again.

United In Fever

Conflagration

To build up to a Fever it doesn’t take much…
Just a call to be human. No problem. That’s done.
Where’s the next entertainment as drama unfolds?
We pretend we know not of what our future holds.
Through the heat, to a new day, what now has begun
Is the reaching for justice. It’s now within touch.

But while in such a Fever of heightened degree
Due to blatant misconduct and unbridled greed,
Mayhem can be expected. Delirium speaks
In a manner most violent. It lasts for weeks.
For the top down is planted the virulent seed
That the roots of humanity feel they are free.

We’re United In Fever as one human race
Though divided we are in which sides we embrace
And the fact that there are sides is something of note.
Leadership that is side-less is the antidote
For the Fever that ails us. So red in the face
Is the view that is offered until there comes grace.

Why The Devil May Care

Dirty Deal

I know not of the devil. If such knows of me,
Then I’m not me. Someone else possesses that soul.
We would swear that the devil’s delight in despair
Can’t effect a good outcome. We then should beware
Of the red-handed handshake lest we lose control
Of our spirit, and therefore our life’s destiny.

Are some friends with the devil? Odd creatures are they
Who can bypass the probable all in good fun.
God bless those who, in conscience, can cast to the wind
Any notion suggesting that they may have sinned.
We’d wish only and quickly that justice be done
So that those who aren’t friendly can go on their way.

Why The Devil Should Care is the question to ask
Oneself if there’s a hint of a doubt in one’s deeds.
Devils don’t deal in caring. They speak in bold lies.
That they are our top leaders is no big surprise.
What the devil cares mostly about are his needs
And to get them fulfilled is one hell of a task.

Troubled Towers And Walls

Nursery Grime

Were you born ‘Trumpelstiltskin’ you wouldn’t have been
So well-known by the name – more so by your ill deeds.
You would not have been overheard by the Queen’s men.
Her poor father, the miller, would yet sin again.
To turn straw into gold, one begins with gold seeds.
Will your own miller’s daughter be sent to the pen?

Will you scramble and fry well before the great fall
As your towers magnificent melt like the ice
In the warming earth climate your fool mind denies?
I do find entertainment in your self-demise.
If you do make it through this, perhaps you’ll think twice
About playing a big game when you are so small.

Build That Wall and sit on it! Your fall is in sight.
It’s a long time in coming. The death that I felt
On the night I was gangraped comes full circle now.
Hindsight is but a luxury all can allow.
How do you feel about this trump card you’ve been dealt?
May your fairytale end as our future grows bright.

Malefic Colonoscope

Colon Specific

A head made for examining places obscene
Is the best of a woman. This world view will change.
Will the goddess of old step aside for the new?
Will she be brushed asunder, her path laid askew
By upcoming young Goddesses? Can it be strange
That procedures be undone due to ill routine?

There are those who, nostalgic for good times gone past,
Need a detailed report on the colonic health
Of the king who she works for. The news sparks their hopes
That all women can be trained to be endoscopes.
It is made more appealing when tied to some wealth
And the praises of men through their lifetimes will last.

I won’t look at that colon. Suffice it to feel
On some subsonic level what goes on up there.
My head must be above all that causes distress.
All the feminine power that we now suppress
Is approaching expression. Is this but a prayer?
Naturally prophetic, it shall become real.

The Malignant Malingering

Impaired Executive Function

It’s a long time in coming. A change in game plan
Is now unfolding vividly. No coverup
Can be made to be foolproof. The world clearly sees
Conflagration of trouble due to his disease.
One who deals in delusion will drink from this cup.
Is the doctor in trouble or is the con man?

A quick trip to the hospital on a work night
May suggest some activity might have occurred
Involving hypertension or panic attacks
And those close in his circle must all watch their backs.
We must tell the world nothing. This way is preferred.
This is not a good story. We must spin it right.

Soon the president will be given the big choice.
He will quit due to illness as all play along.
Never mind that he’s not ill – just screwed in the head.
If he keeps the shit up, pretty soon he’ll be dead.
One who’s sick and in office confounds what is wrong.
There may soon come a reason that all may rejoice.

A Night Of Awakening

Hope

The vampires and the zombies compete on the stage
As their werewolves howl constantly into this night.
It becomes fairly fecal. The sponsored live stream
Drives the country to consciousness, as in a dream.
Feeble sounds mocking justice are silenced by light.
All that’s missing from this scene is fervent outrage.

Nestled in the fluidity, we may see stars…
Bright but blurred in our vision, they do but their best
As they have always done. It’s ingrained in their souls.
Noble service and duty are their only goals.
With the issues at hand finally put to rest
We may return to daylight by healing our scars.

The night sky is a spectacle for human eyes.
So attracted to contrast, they follow the flow.
Seeing aesthetic balance is best for all sides
Of the One coin united. The one who divides
Will go down in world history as a great foe.
We will soon be awakened to friendlier skies.

Volcanic Defecation Forecast

Extreme Privacy

A big blast from the small room where bathing takes place
Is the source of embarrassment for the house guests.
They know no one is bathing. The sound that they hear
Is the elimination of what causes fear.
The host must take accounting for what he digests.
A loud dump is the outcome before the disgrace.

In the Oval Office there is no air-tight room
With a stainless-steel toilet to muffle the sound
Of the violent expulsion of all the ill deeds
Because many an investigation proceeds.
The whole world braces for the bowel movement profound.
It’s a gross revelation of impending doom.

The blast comes in the form of a soundbite of news
Telling of something horrid. It gets even worse.
It will grow to a shit stream of disgusting facts.
We have not heard the worst of this wicked man’s acts.
The alarm is our knowing that soon the foul curse
Will be lifted from us. This man will pay his dues.

Bowels can be rather noisy, occasionally.
It’s a sign that we haven’t been treating them right.
If we stuff them with evil for decades on end
They will shout with a loud voice. They do not pretend
That they haven’t been messed with. Our future is bright.
The White House is no outhouse. They will come to see.

Day Of Tough Love

Antidote

It’s The Day Of The Dove… or perhaps of Tough Love
That resembles the justice that must become due.
There’s an alien creature that feeds on our hate.
We’ve become deeply sided. We cannot see straight.
Civil War is its true wish, and its point of view
Is the sole source of nourishment it can speak of.

Not on earth did it come from. It just floated in.
A hot gas of no substance, it draws energy
From the drama of chaos which once were the lives
Of its innermost circles. He alone survives
Until those who’d been enemies finally see
How the creature is harming them, to its chagrin.

All our sides deal with one foe. The nation is not
One that can be divided and sapped of its worth.
We can laugh at the enemy and take delight
In the fact that the laughing will drive it from sight.
Such a creature should never take over the earth.
Life is like science fiction. They share the same plot.

Did Someone Use The ‘L’ Word?

Hang 'Em High!

Did Someone Use The ‘L’ Word? Who sounds the alarm
That I must pay attention to? Is it for me
Or someone who is like me? Who does it come from?
You don’t look like my brother who has overcome
Lethal racial injustice, and I cannot see
That your well-deserved drama is causing you harm.

Wash your mouth out with history, ignorant fool!
Having no sense of dignity, joke genius plays
Any card that seems feasible in delusion.
It may seem like a hanging to you, brilliant one,
Since you’re caught up in all kinds of trouble these days.
But your red neck will never know something so cruel.

You know nothing of lynching. Your analogy,
Like the others you come up with, are an insult
Belching forth from entitlement. You will soon be
With the criminals like you who see as you see.
Some who speak about lynching are those of a cult
Most accustomed to spewing incongruency.

The Proper Disposal Of Black Hole Waste

Magnetic Personality

When disposing of black holes, protection is wise
In the way of great distance and lawful technique
To avoid the horizon. Events taking place
Do resemble spaghettification in space.
As the king’s men begin stretching, so they will freak.
Having gotten too close, they have sealed their demise.

Black holes start out as big stars, but then they grow old
Such that their massive egos begin to cave in
Drawing all who are near into utter darkness.
So distorted are their minds, no need to confess
And come free would occur to them. Is this their sin?
Is it that they’ve become the horizon threshold?

Stars that die can be menacing and a real threat
To all matter around them and within their fields
Of executive influence through slight of mind
And a stale, foolish tactic pulled from the behind.
We can make time and distance most effective shields
Along with a good lesson this world won’t forget.

Whistles Blowing

Danger There!

Many people blow whistles rather than ignore
What they see as their duty to country and God.
Whistles are used because they can make a loud sound.
If lifeguards did not use them, many would be drowned
Or become living shark feed, or victims of fraud.
Any person can use one. It’s not such a chore.

One’s attention is called, when a whistle is blown,
To detail of the nature of danger perceived.
It is up to those listening to give support
And protection to those brave enough to report
Ways in which We The People are wrongly deceived.
Such are people of honor and solid backbone.

Many whistles are blowing not unto deaf ears.
As the drama unfolds upon our earthly stage,
Punctuated with danger on levels complex,
One can see that we live as the future expects.
What we have is a chance to rewrite the next page.
What prevents us from doing so remains our fears.

Election Mode

The Promisory Nature of Politics

In the space of four years’ time, a lot can get done
But what gets done depends quite a bit on which mode
Leadership is locked into. One can’t be in both
Working Mode and Election Mode. One takes the oath
To work but for this country. Honor is bestowed
On the leader who knows we are second to none.

The election campaign is an aberrant glitch
In the internal workings of democracy.
Never ending, news cyclic, and wasteful, campaigns
Are a circus for many, but few will reap gains
As the balance of work done we’re not meant to see.
Who become the needy, We The People enrich.

In Election Mode, most leaders look far ahead
As if they have a strategy and enough charm
To stay hired for another term. Others are blind
To the nature of leadership of any kind.
They are put into place to dispense utter harm
As their foolish decisions beget death and dread.

A Supreme DUI Judge

Horror

It’s not that I’ve no content. I’ve got that and more.
Politics interrupts, then I push things aside
That are worthwhile discussing rather than a guy
Who could be a fine poster boy for DUI.
He’s quite fond of the froth. He admits that with pride.
Does he share this with colleagues passed out on the floor?

I like beer. I’ll admit it. But I’m not a judge.
So I guess if you’re privileged, it scores a plus.
I throw many a tantrum. I don’t get my way.
I do hope that this madman is not here to stay.
He got in underhandedly. What’s to discuss
When a judge acts the fool and the right do not budge?

Can you look at this punk’s face and find justice there?
The question is not legal. Faces are allowed
To display bouts of lunacy. Justice, therefore,
Is a drunken perverseness. What may be in store
For the beer boasting psycho behind the black shroud
Is a seat on a prison bench. Would that be fair?

…Maybe not. Perhaps DUI justice is more
Apropos to the temperament and core belief
That some people get what they deserve by virtue
Of the fate that has branded them for life to screw.
Until he takes that robe off, to me, he’s a thief.
Justice that isn’t justice is hard to ignore.

The Emperor Has No Tower

Vacated Democracy

Many flags for one’s tower…? Which power has won
By the will of the ill-minded, drunk in their ways?
Are we slaves to white Arabs, Russian oligarchs
Or some other rogue players who swim with the sharks?
As the tower collapses, the world sings in praise.
Soon the sand heap that cripples the flag will be gone.

One can glance at the grossness of that naked hell.
Greasy food, nasty habits and foolish lifestyle
Filter through the flesh fabric and onto the flag
Reconfigured to serve as fine ditty rag…
But won’t take a fake tower. Bereft is his smile
Of a sense of conviction, but with lies to tell.

Is it too damned divisive to do what is right?
We are at civil war now. What time would work well?
…When the emperor completes his sinister plan?
Why let our lives be linked to the likes of Satan?
 These are stupid assed questions. I’m wise to dispel
What may come of that tower. The future seems bright.

Many things have a stupid ass, so it would seem.
Such a worthwhile expression suffices the need
To make sense of a real world become fantasy.
Towers honor the phallus most absolutely.
They won’t stand hard forever nor can they impede
The high tide of refocusing back on the Dream.