Tag Archive | hate

War Games

The Wages Of War Is Sin

Enemies of the planet, deplorable ones
With the mindset of Satan, have taken control
Of the soul of a dark world predestined to doom.
The aroma of feces immersed in perfume
Permeates most of consciousness. Dark is the hole
Of the red racist rabbit whose cup overruns.

All the excellent training for so many years
And crap loads of equipment are played to the hands
Of the evil egoist who will have his way
Until karma kiboshes him some sooner day.
Yet the world must play nicely. It well understands
Mass destruction should be one of our biggest fears.

Quid pro quo is the tactic most commonly used
To elicit desertion of moral value
Among troops, belief systems, and populations.
When the smoke clears, the people who’ve died are the ones
Remembered then forgotten and placed out of view.
Pardon me for not feeling. May I be excused?

This will go on forever. Lethal tit for tat
Is a game of the human soul trapped in ideals
That have become malignant. And now, running wild,
This cancerous conundrum is what has defiled
Our most human behaviors. What it most reveals
Is a species addicted to mortal combat.

Desantisy Land

World Of Horror

Right To Life is the message good Christians digest
But we should not protect children from a disease
That’s indeed a known killer? Hypocrisy reigns
In the sick hearts of those running evil campaigns
For their own selfish purposes. Can someone please
Tell me this isn’t happening? Give it your best.

Terrorized by white privilege and in a state
Of empowered pandemic, those people, I pray,
Who have some sense about them, find ways to escape
From the demon possessed. What is now taking shape
Is a case for mass murder. How can one betray
The respect for life basic? Perhaps it is hate.

If it’s hate and the demon has this much control
Over people’s wellbeing so personally
And beyond all known reason, can forces above
Rush into the abysmal and find in it love?
Those who reach high positions through dishonesty
Suck the life from a nation. In fact, it’s their goal.

Can I blame this on Putin? He did but ignite
What was already present. The hate that grows wild
In this field of the filthy was there from the start.
The momentum is felt as it flows through the heart.
Human rights of this nation, unjustly defiled,
 Still are something for which everyone has to fight.

Why People Hurt People

Blind Desperation

Civil War is but one thing devolved into two.
When the brain’s hemispheres get along not at all
It is called epilepsy. There’s loss of control
Of the muscular functions. Oneself isn’t whole
When attacks come at random. This is nothing small.
One can’t predict at all when the next one is due.

Trauma is about not being able to feel
All the pain that it causes. The soul is made numb.
Being so cut off from one’s own humanity,
Desperate are behaviors that all others see
As a problem to intricate to overcome.
Every new dawn is swallowed in hopeless ordeal.

Self-destructive behaviors are frustrated by
Self-preservative programming. Clearly at odds,
One must sort through the numbness and draw from the pain
Something that feels like hatred for relative gain.
What society offers completely defrauds
Some of us as truth warriors willing to die.

What has died is the hope for an old way of life
When we were manufacturers with steady jobs.
Drug and alcohol crises and suicide rates
Climbing higher each year is the fate that awaits
Those of us who feel cornered. The menacing mobs
Will not cease their aggression until there’s no strife.

You’re About To Ride The Lightnin’, Son…

The Good Old Days

“White Lightnin’ … White Lightnin’ … We’re in red hot pursuit.
We got one in escape mode… We need some support!”
This one’s awfully dangerous with his sharp tongue

But this black nigger bee is about to get stung
By the wasp of enforcement. His life we’ll cut short
If he so much as whimpers. Our thrill is To Shoot!

Up against the wall, nigger, with hands clearly seen.
Take your shoes off and tap dance on hot asphalt roads.
Lick my boots and then give them an excellent shine.
Since that’s one of your best talents why do you whine?
We take much pride and pleasure in hunt episodes
Where the prey are so many and already mean.

Lightnin’ strikes every day, son. This fine one is yours.
And for me it’s an excuse to let off some steam.
Family life frustrations and issues at work
Punctuate my history, so I Am A Jerk
And so fucking proud of it that often I dream

Of a nation of assholes and bloody race wars.

Oh, did we make a faux pas in being so rude…
Pepper spraying your dog and you and needlessly?
Well, that’s life on the lightnin’ bolt. What will you do?
 To the false right we claim, you’ve the real right to sue.
We’re still back in the forties as far as I see.
This one hell of a negative triggers my mood.

Exit Methodologies

The Brightest Way

A black man wouldn’t hang himself. That would be like
Jewish ones suicidal wanting to be gassed.
Some will hack at their wrists. Others go by the gun.
When it comes right down to it, to get the job done
So that one doesn’t fuck up, it has to be fast…
Like electrons – not slow as in taking a hike.

My perception of self and all that I perceive…
Indeed everything I know or thought that I did
Dissipates into nothingness. I know but pain.
Logic dictates remaining would be inhumane
To the rest of hell’s residents. Heaven forbid
That I go while unnoticed as I alone grieve.

Some use cigarette burn marks to fuck with their skin.
I mean that in a kind way. I would do the same.
But I’ve fucked with this website for too many years.
It’s not quite as effective. I’ve shed enough tears
Speaking out but not one God Damned person I claim
As a point of connection, much to my chagrin.

A poet I’ll still call myself even as I
In one last burst defiant to stark nothingness
That this world thing and all I know is and always
Has been and will be. How dare that I covet praise!
I’m a drop in a strange bucket and nothing less
Than a weary old nigger just wanting to die.

On Beating The Blues

Endless Cycles Of Gloom

An old man on a job search is death wish engaged
At full throttle straight into the darkness of hell.
Able bodied I am with an excellent mind
But this world doesn’t see that. In essence, it’s blind
To what I have to offer. I’m just a hard sell
To the age of the phone app. Indeed I’m outraged.

But who gives a bat’s dropping among hell’s elite?
Having spent the last few weeks as a prostitute
On the road and in offices for interviews
That upset and degrade me, I’ll not self-abuse
As I sense that’s the intent because they can’t shoot
Me for sport or for pleasure. Still I’m in defeat.

Sent way out to the boondocks through Amazon Flex
With a carload of packages on gravel roads
With no God Damned thing guiding me but a phone app
Then the fucking phone dies. The whole day’s turned to crap
I bent over and puckered for copious loads
Of the dark seed of Satan in virtual sex.

I’d take this as a joke played on me with a smile
And forget like a bad dream what’s happened to me
If I were a lot younger – not old and depressed.
Vows I’ve made to my doctors were not made in jest
But when push comes to shove one would have to agree
That to ask for a breastfeeding isn’t my style.

I cannot be employed, yet Magic I create.
I have many fine talents and education
That I’m still paying off after decades by now.
This life hates my damned guts. This fact I can allow
To solidify suicidal decision.
But for now, I’ve decided to nourish my hate.

The Squalid

The "Deplorable" Ones

Someone called them ‘deplorable’ once. The Term Fits
More so right now than ever. They’re getting much worse.
Other ‘civilized’ countries take pity on us.
We’re the ripped open scab that is now oozing puss.
The much more first world nations consider our curse
A surreal evolution that evil permits.

Such a team of fine leaders – indeed but the best…
All the Tuberville’s, Jordan’s, McCarthy’s, Hawley’s,
Lauren Boebert’s, Ted Cruz’s, and sick Taylor Greene’s…
Have top notch educations and provident means
To support filth and violence. Scum such as these
Are the brains of the business of social unrest.

Never had it been done. To come up with a plan
So crazy it just might work takes some kind of nerve.
With the flag of the nation crumpled in their minds,
Wild conspiracy theories and lies of all kinds
Spark the sickness in childish ones who they subserve
In commission of high crimes befitting the klan.

We all know of their names now. What they almost did
Was their damnedest endeavor to make the alt-right
A new change in direction. They will try again.
May this world be relieved of the scourge of white men?
They may think they have power to keep up the fight,
But the numbers defeat them and usher their rid.

After The Riots

Foresight Post Trauma

A diehard chump supporter, not feeling at ease
Even though it’s a dark stage, is mostly unseen.
That’s because he’s a coward who will only share
His psychosis verbosely with heartfelt despair
If he remains anonymous. Mental hygiene
Is of newsworthy focus and analyses.

 Self-described as soft spoken, this family man
Made a trek across country to participate
In the great resurrection and stopping the steal.
Knowing not what is hogwash from that which is real,

All these ‘boys’ groups of stunted growth live but to hate,
And the wages of such is a shorter lifespan.

As if Alice in Wonderland married Sambo
And gave birth to some colored dwarfs, then took a vow
To denounce her snow whiteness – these poor folk are sick!
Like lost bullshit dispensers, they lay it on thick.
Any trick of the mind they will use to allow
Complete justification for their redneck show.

Their false godhead betrayed them, yet some still have hope
That return to the good times of wholesome hatred
May enforce understanding that racial divide
Is the way God intended. Malefic white pride
Is the scourge of the nation because it’s widespread.
Waiting for their next orders, in limbo they cope.

“Don’t believe what they tell you; they’re all full of lies,”
The conservative mantra is echoed worldwide.

Bigotry is convenience in making things fit.
Yet some facts in the mix that they try to omit
Are that people of color have nothing to hide
And things won’t change to suit them despite futile tries.

Brave Blood

Strongly Principled

When Denahi’s first seen as an old and wise man
Telling stories to young ones, he is as he was
Until death claimed his brother. Good-natured was he.
Most determined and loving, He’d joke playfully.
His innate sense of humor did not take a pause.
He was one happy camper at one with his clan.

The demise of one brother brought on by a bear
Took a toll on his character. He became mean
And ruthless in demeanor. Vengeance was his goal.
In his bitter pursuit he became a dark soul.
His descent into madness was slow and obscene.
Anger grows into hatred and utter despair.

What had happened was this bear, provoked to a fight,
Killed the brother in anger. Indeed self-defense
Was the motive the bear had. The one who had died,
Now from spirit the sibling was able to guide
Denahi to some semblance of having some sense…
Not at first, but he used some spiritual might.

Turning brother to bear, what the spirit had done
Was to teach a firm lesson about forgiveness.
Animals are shamanic as brave people are.
The return to one’s old self is now a memoir.
Brother bears are not obvious… that is unless
One transcends dark emotion. Then peace has begun.

The Roots Of Anger

On the Horizon of Hate

There’s a root to my anger. When it cripples me,
I’ve but one of two choices. The wrong one results
In destructive behavior and harm to my health.
Like three ships into sunset accustomed to stealth
On the stillness of sea, the intention insults
Who I am at my best. Disturbed I mustn’t be.

Once I know where those roots are, I can overcome
How they feed through their festering into my peace.
Until then, I’m a loose cannon and a time bomb
Who may do harm to self or others without qualm.
So to heal and get past things, it’s best to release
Energy that is toxic and makes the heart numb.

The process of the healing begins with reaching
From oppressed to oppressor to let it be known
That the bad perpetrated has done the one harm,
And that one does one’s best with intent to disarm.
Asking help from the other will help both atone.
In the final analysis, it’s no big thing.

But it isn’t that way always. Deep rooted hate
Along gender and racial lines practiced worldwide
Passed down through generations is most powerful
And complex as the dickens, therefore it is bull.
Suffering is not mindful and can’t be a guide
In transforming my anger by what I create.

Final Duties

Spiteful Acts On Departure

Ain’t it just like a nigger to act the damned fool
When there’s nothing to do but to bow gracefully.
But his kind are deficient and rather uncouth.
They are mentally lazy and lacking in truth.
It is right that this dark one be hanged from a tree
For his acts of treason and tyrannical rule.

The next beast shall rise surely within a few years.
This one has made a breeding ground like a ghetto,
Or a trailer park haven hog tied to the past,
Where direct insurrection does but flabbergast
The dumbstruck with amazement by such a lame show.
Now the door is swung open, but who on earth cheers?

Those would be those off color who glorify hate
And are driven by greed and their lust for power.
If and when they lose bigly, they are driven mad.
The resorting to destructive acts is quite sad.
To behold the beast whimper is what I’d prefer.
It facilitates healing that most yet await.

There’s no proper transition forthcoming this time.
The toddler now in office will not say goodbye.
So instead, there’s destruction and acts done in spite.
And four tenths of the country will swear that he’s right.
This old, fat, ugly loser gives it one last try
Perhaps not even knowing that it’s all a crime.

Serenades Of Sedition

The Simmering Unrest

The Wild Western Empire has expanded beyond
What contiguous statehood cannot comprehend
As a song of seduction. Sedition is clear
In the eyes of sore losers who madly adhere
To the awfully bad actor who they must defend
While not caring the least bit that they have been conned.

As it was, and is now, and forever shall be
Blown along with the sagebrush and acid hot dust
Is the thickness of hatred in bitter belief
That if I’m not of their kind then I am a thief.
All that I have accomplished must fuel their disgust.
In the blindness, an enemy is made of me.

The song keeps getting louder and won’t go away.
The replay of post trauma I did not expect
To recur in my lifetime. Am I again wrong
For believing that blacks and whites can get along?
The drum beat is deep rooted and has the effect
Of a discordant weapon that savages play.

Warriors are not made or born. They just exist
As strategic abstractions that must take on form
When the duty to slaughter the other is called.
The grand party of outlaws, though they be outlawed,
Leave no peace for the restless amid the dust storm.
What I get from it is how to write with a fist.

The Struggle

Stormy Encounters

Interacting with others… Sometimes it’s a bear
To maintain good composure. Things get out of hand
And straight into ferociousness in word and deed.
Anger does have its purpose. The demon is freed
In the hope that the other will well understand
That when strict lines are crossed others then should beware.

The mind may be more active with hostile intent
When two wills come emergent in heated debate.
Animals of one species are just like the rest.
When prepared for a challenge, we’re put to the test.
But is there a derivative reason for hate
Among human existence? What feeds our dissent?

In these times there are lynchings. The noose has evolved.
The mindset of the niggard is still much the same
As it was in the good days. Some folk need an edge.
Black men are still in season as white racists pledge
That there will be no struggle. They will cheat the game.
In the long run our issues are damned to be solved.

Have A Great Weekend!

Utter Helplessness

My last shift in the ER has left me a wreck
So, I don’t know if I can put out much today.
How’s your friend in oncology? ‘Heard that she’s bi-
But that’s none of my business. I’d bang her while high….
We do have a new patient right here, by the way
And whatever he’s got, he’s a pain in my neck!

He’s assigned to nurse Nuisance and Doctor Derange.
How about them damned Hayseeds. They shocked us once more!
“Everybody! We’re planning potluck for next week.
This job is such a hazard, as some patients wreak.”

Who’s that blond bitch I saw you with on the ninth floor?
Though it don’t seem like Friday, it doesn’t feel strange.

“Oh, this guy is a nutcase. Let’s step from his sight…
All he wants is attention. So What he’s in pain!”
We shall gift him no comfort. By fate he is here

And our subconscious mercy most rooted in fear
That a sense of compassion can lead to no gain.
Can you scorn our behavior because it’s not right?

How can you for a heartbeat not see it our way?
Sickness is complicated and vital business.
Interwoven, our tissue is the need to hate
On the grandest scale, focused toward those who don’t rate
Protection from predation. We need not confess.
Patience does that well for us when pushed to the fray.