Tag Archive | political commentary

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.

Trollfactory Bulb

Toxic Awareness

Fake spam comments from Russia a half a mile long
Are the only ones I get. At least I exist.
Yet you need not enlighten me. My sense of smell
Keeps me mindful of danger. Though you may excel
At controlling behavior, your work is dismissed
As a dark and faint echo of having done wrong.

At least write in plain English. Cyrillic I don’t know.
It looks too much like hogwash imbedded with spew
Of the coldest resentment the heart can withstand.
You can speak with my accent. I know that you can
Act as if you’re the best friend that I ever knew.
I became keen to your sickness some time ago.

I once worked at a factory. Dog food they made.
I lasted ‘til near lunchtime. The smell made me sick.
I don’t feed my dog dog food. I know better now
How people out gross animals. I made a vow
To trust in the olfactory. Smell is the trick
To discerning the fear bear. I am not afraid.

You’ve invented the troll farm. We know that by now.
Trolls are lowly paid workers who work with no light.
They can see what they’re doing by watching we fools
As we flail about aimlessly with broken rules.
What I offer to all is my deepest insight
For what it may be worth and what you may allow.

More Arguments

Face Wars

Legal Ordnance doth fly as the Eagle must try
Like the dickens to get its discomfort across.
Unexpected encounters of the social kind
Take on added significance. Some are inclined
To blame their instability on the coin’s toss
Or the acts of ‘the other’ as laws may apply.

We’ve become quite the coin, now, of binary face.
We’re of primary color yet shy just a few
Of the ones deemed essential. The sight of the old
Only replays the nightmare. I am self-controlled.
I’ve become too complacent in that which is true
Yet I feel the commitment to argue my case.

Arguments and Agreements, because they compare
To most basic dichotomies, share the same core
Which, in essence, is freedom from stagnant discourse.
Language should be alternative to using force.
Having played in the crossfire, should I want for more?
It makes sense to speak softly and to be aware.

On Embracing The Change

United In Transformation

Eclipses can be good things but rough to get through.
When most light becomes darkness much more than a while
I can know it will pass as all hellish things do.
May I look far beyond it and embrace the new?
I’ll stand up to the ruggedness not with a smile
But a mindset restructured to new points of view.

Doomed to become historic, this time has its place
Among cyclic phenomena. All moments must
Come to profound significance if I want growth.
Between now and what’s possible I can’t choose both.
I must make my decision infused with the trust
That this cosmos of consciousness bathes me in grace.

The upcoming conjunction of soul, heart and mind
Is a meeting of powers who are made of me.
Jupiter and Uranus shall usher insight
Of an expansive nature. Things do turn out right.
Letting go of what is now… Can this set me free?
I claim choice in the answer. I am that resigned.

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.

A Wishy Wash

Global Laundry Crisis

It’s a wash no one wishes on anyone’s world
When within one’s right mind there is nothing to see
But full drawers of clean laundry. Do Not take a breath
As the smell of this cleanliness may cause one’s death.
Citizens who of left mind just want to be free.
What has been convoluted must then be unfurled.

Many billions of children at play in their rooms
After many an eon have left earth a mess.
We are not home alone, as our mother is here
Yet our father is elsewhere, not meant to be near.
We’re hard pressed to invent him with any success
And the unending filthy wash cycle resumes.

As the traitor species, we’ve made ourselves awash
In our own filth and grime. But we are like the child
Who attends not to discipline. We’ve no concern
But for needs of the moment. What then can we learn?
And can our past activity be reconciled?
As we look at our laundry we’ll lose our panache.

Long Live The Queendom

Feminine Game

Women’s voices bear wisdom. That they should be heard
Without question or scrutiny just as are men
Is the issue evolved over eons of time.
Women do as most men do, but then it’s a crime.
We excel at technology but we must then
Take the leap toward enlightenment. It’s been deferred.

To be treated as children is not half the crime
Perpetrated on half of the human genome.
It’s a death blow to growth and an insult to be
Of the most sacred feminine. What we now see
Is the subtle emergence from fear back to home.
It’s a shame that this has taken such a long time.

Women tend to be steadfast, more one with the earth,
And less prone to snap judgements that are ego based.
We’re in great need of balance and meaningful change.
Only women provide that. How can this sound strange
Since our trust in the kingdom is clearly misplaced?
That which nature respects more is given more worth.

Praise, and Long Live The Queendom! She stands in the sea
With a blindfold and scales and a message of love
To oppressed, huddled masses… indeed, to us all.
In this garden of Eden, the only great fall
Is man’s satanic fantasy. Yet far above
What’s been kept underfoot is the will to get free.

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.

Made Afraid In America

Looming Disaster

To be Made In America is to believe
In one nation united with justice for all.
Is it too high an ideal for me to achieve
With my brothers and sisters who hopelessly grieve?
Can the statute of liberty survive its fall?
We are made not by ourselves. Let’s not be naïve.

Consciousness is the Wild West of human concern.
It’s been made a commodity. Nations partake
In intelligence warfare to program the mind
To behave in such ways that are much more aligned
With their sinister interests. Should we come awake,
We’ll have overcome fallout and nuclear burn.

I remember Chernobyl, the horrid mishap
That they tried to keep hidden. But word got around.
We’re within the first half-life of something much worse.
The decay of the human soul completes the curse
Cast upon us. But maybe new hope can be found
As we discern the enemy’s will to entrap.

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.

Infrared Neck

Visual Revelations

Is the image of heat loss enough to evoke
Irritation and feeling stiffness in the neck?
It may be therapeutic to use infrared
To support diagnosis – not to be misled.
Why elude the believer? It’s proper to check
With a sensitive instrument to see what broke.

We should care for our Gelicals in the best way
Because Evan delivers the pain in their necks.
Redness responds to infra because it’s below
And indeed further on to where people can go.
An aching for a race war is not so complex.
Simple minds need a leader to plan out their day.

The right book states an Imperfect Vessel shall come
And his mission to usher in Armageddon
Is fulfillment of prophecy. What a delight!
Those who beam up to rapture will only be white.
All religion is human. Spirit makes us one.
Consciousness is an illness. We can overcome.

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.

Women And Power

Strategy In Power

When and how to use force are the questions to ask
Among so many others before waging war.
We’d prefer conversation and working things out
Yet throughout all our history there’s little doubt
That we are prone to fight and to even the score.
When it comes to destruction we’re up to the task.

Have there been female generals in the wars past?
Who knows how they would fight and what harm they could do?
There are some of a fortunate few who could tell
Of the hell they went through that we cannot know well.
We know only of fighting men. Women, we view,
As still much less than lethal and of lower caste.

Women have been in office, but playing the game
On a man’s world stage and with the rules now in place
Is a leadership lacking in human resolve.
We can remain one-sided in how we evolve
But our old ways embellish our racial disgrace.
When women define power things won’t be the same.

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.

Psychic Peek At A Puter

Crack of Putin

Something like a computer, a Vladimir Puter
Assumes an identity somewhat human.
An asshole of a neural net masters the mind
In the mold of a tyrant for all humankind
Who had nearly succeeded in his master plan
To reshape the whole world to what he would prefer.

Still, a world class accomplishment to have sewn hate
Throughout many a nation, he feels not that well.
His own people are waking up from their deep sleep
In a bitter cold governance as frozen sheep.
Why does he not feel powerful? Close aids can tell
Unidentified enemies may seal his fate.

True… this Puter likes poison. It’s lethal and sure
To eliminate nuisances who misbehave.
Some soldier in the galley knows of his fine taste
And is feeding him slowly. Soon he will be waste.
What would be then most fitting to put on his grave?
“Once there lived a great Puter. Now he is manure.”

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.

Disgrace

Realization of Self Undoing

It’s A Disgrace!
I didn’t know what I was headed for.
Now my ass is headed out the door.
Is this my fate?

It’s A Disgrace!
This world will not bow down and worship me.

I can’t face up to this reality.
I’m so irate.

It’s too late. I’ve gone too far. I’ve lost my base…

It’s A Disgrace!
I climbed a mountain someone made too high.

That someone helped me, I will flat out deny…
Just look at my face.

…So commonplace.
This job of president is not my style.
It doesn’t fit with my birthright to defile
But now it’s too late.

Life was great. It’s now bizarre. I’ve lost my place…

It’s A Disgrace!

…Too many losers, and not enough that I can bribe.
…Too many big deals, but not enough time.
…Too many secrets, and some that I can’t hide from you.
…Too many troubles. That’s why that I imbibe.

It’s too late. I’ve gone too far. I’ve lost my base…

Egg on my face….

That’s what will happen in a little while.
Congress may impeach or put me on trial…
Why can’t I think straight?

It’s A Disgrace!
I can’t predict the weather well behind bars.
Will the country ever heal from its czars?
Sharpies just don’t erase…

It’s too late. I’ve Gone too far. I’ve lost my base…

It’s A Disgrace!

 

 

Something BIG Is About To Happen

Profound Revelation

Information extracted from processed manure
To be polished and passed off as meaningful news
Is a thing become commonplace. Not much is real
But the buildup in tension that most real folk feel.
There’s just too much that’s missing from everyone’s views.
Why not check with the woo-woo folk just to be sure?

Some become all the wiser as they become source
Of alternative knowing. Truth is in demand
That cannot be forthcoming from they who must lie
To protect their network of deceit ‘till they die.
One need not be a psychic to well understand
That descent into darkness is par for the course.

Mother Earth has a hero… one Mother of one!
In fact, she has a dozen or so up her sleeve…
Or perhaps in her crystal ball. As we grow tense,
Call to action becomes urgent. And this makes sense.
Her next move is predicted by how we perceive
And respond to our worse hand. We may come undone.

Return To Love

Refreshing Alternative

Voices on the horizon emerge as the clouds
Convolute and then dissipate into the light
Of a newfound becoming welcoming the old.
What could come forth from what is that spirit foretold
Long before our humanity knew wrong from right?
What becomes not a miracle our hate enshrouds.

We meet The Holy Spirit by coming halfway
Between our blessed egos and that who we are.
There are no other sides besides inside and out.
All the others are egos constructed of doubt.
Yet we think that without them we cannot get far.
Egos can get us places… through stress and delay.

When the heart, all at once, feels the depth of its pain
At its height of intensity… Why only then
Is the spirit available? Miracles are
Things that were deemed impossible. We have come far
When we are in atonement with all we had been
Should one who leads by spirit be offered the reign?

Air Apparent

Desolation

What we leave to our children is what was left us.
It’s the same earth and climate, but how it evolves
On our watch, at our mercy, is ours to ensure.
Have we done a fair job, and is our conscience pure
With no semblance of guilt? Our uncaring dissolves
Any hope of a future that we can discuss.

Have I opened my eyes wide to all to be seen
In some part of a lifetime most present and sane?
How do I speak of sanity? I know it not
From a hole in the ozone we just plum forgot.
What is sane is unspeakable profit and gain
And success in the moment. I must see past green.

We have made Air Apparent in its toxic state
A dysfunctional challenge to posterity.
Have we made them the wise ones who must take control
Because we, as their leaders, are bereft of soul?
Should our own self-undoing strong-arm us to see,
Can we earn back respect, or is it much too late?

The Perfection Of Matter

Dreamscape

Have we come to make happen a most astral state
Such that by merely thinking, things then come to be?
If we don’t, as a species, last this time around,
Is the next one for granted? Are we somehow bound
To evolve once a certain way that all may see
Matter made to perfection? Could that be our fate?

I was made to move matter. I feel that to be
Paramount, part and parcel to that which I am.
To feel or see another way would be untrue
To who I in reality could offer you
And still feel that connected. I dare to exam
What most couldn’t be bothered with wholeheartedly.

Psychic is evolution. Cosmic is our source
Of particulate substance. We mirror all things
That exist in the universe. All we can fear
Is the present condition. That which we hold dear
At this time, as a species, dangle by loose strings.
We can do this all over or steer back on course.

Ride The Bull

Primal Motion

You say your stock’s been down?
That’s why you’re wearing a frown?
Your meager money market venture just took a dive?
You didn’t plan it this way.
No one will come to save the day.
It’s up to your devices alone now to truly survive.

Maybe I’ll be there to ride the bull.
Maybe I’ll be there to act like a fool.
Foolishness is a thing that we can all do together.
Maybe I’ll be there to ride the bull.
Maybe I’ll be there to act like a fool.
So, grab hold of the bull in stormy or sunny weather.

You’ve been watching all the network news.
It’s kind of gotten you to singing the blues.
The more you know, the chances are that you can’t get a clue.
The country burns in purgatory.
Who will come to set us all free?
Well, there isn’t very much right now that we can do.

Maybe people think that life is cool.
Maybe they don’t know the golden rule.
Foolishness is a thing that we can all do together.
Maybe I’ll be there to ride the bull.
Maybe I’ll be there to act like a fool.
So, grab hold of the bull in stormy or sunny weather.

Underbelly Of The Crab

Extreme Emotional Turmoil

We’re to know what we don’t want to know what we do.
This concise definition of hell is complete
And effective an antidote to anything
That defies explanation. This mantra can bring
Clarity to the chaos and make it look neat.
Though its nature is fluid, we can see right through.

Everything is connected. The stars and ideals
That we’ve made archetypal through countless eons,
And events correlated and recorded well,
All configure collective subconscious and tell
How things may come to pass and how one’s life responds
To the Clock of the cosmos. This way, the soul heals.

One may not have belief in this practice at all
Nor the least bit of interest. It works anyway!
Infinite are the probable worlds that exist.
Lines of truth intersect all. Not one world is missed.
Fate and free will are integral forces at play.
Who can know what may happen? It’s anyone’s call.

 Cancer’s are often crab-like and look like the moon.
We’re a nation of phases reflecting outward
To reveal to the world our true face at all times,
And our dark underbelly that speaks of our crimes,
To ourselves and to others. Those whose lives we’ve scarred
Will someday see some justice. I wish that were soon.

With our Mars squaring Neptune, we can play the fool,
When through bold self-deception we sustain our needs.
As Saturn squares our Sun, we pay highly for fun.
Mercury’s opposition to Pluto is one
Aspect of our group thinking that most surely leads
To world class mis-attention and much ridicule.

For The Next Scheduled Horror…

Hoplessness

The country is a Moon Child. Emotions run deep.
And when brought to the surface, our temper can flare.
We’re suspicious and moody… often insecure
Yet, tenacious and loyal with heart that is pure.
We can be sympathetic. We are known to care.
We place value on family. We often weep.

Many fit this description, and we are all prone
To be somewhat too generous. Our will to trust
In a functioning government makes us all fools.
We tend not to make trouble and play by the rules.
We’ve obeyed them forever. The next horror must
Generate some reaction. Too much we condone.

Is it that we are powerless due to disease
Of a cancerous nature? The malignant growth
Is to vastly unknowable. All sources lie.
Is it wise to take cover or give love a try?
We have done each and neither, so if we tried both
Would we take too much comfort in our expertise?

Can we stop the next butcher? They grow like the weeds
And are just as aggressive. They get their support
From we who can do nothing but take to the streets
As perhaps we are meant to. Inaction defeats
No condition of any kind. We are, in short,
At the mercy of ourselves entrapped in our deeds.

The Base

Base Place

When I first learned the word ‘base,’ I though that it meant
As Webster had defined it. I was but a child.
So, I could not have known that most words do evolve
And grow new layers of meaning for some folks to solve.
How does such a benign word become so reviled
By the bulk of the nation? Why such strong dissent?

Just what is this new meaning revived from the old
Black and white ways of going about the business
Of preparing the basement for some future war?
Does this new base support something most would abhor?
Helter-skelter a bomb shelter folds under stress
While upholding a structure who’s foreign controlled.

One may get to the base if one falls through the hole
In the floor of the living room. Yet, once down there
One can see all the clutter and filth and take heed
That we come to our senses and realize the need
To replace most our leaders with those who will care
For the base of the whole nation… heart, mind and soul.

Darkie Season

Clear and Present Emergency

Background checks do save lives. Moscow Bitch must agree.
That’s why he won’t allow them. The breeders will breed.
And we can’t let that happen. Soon this nation will
Be infested with colored folk. White folk must kill
To prevent the invasion. The way to succeed
Is by bribing the senate, and most thoroughly.

Armies need army weapons. They do the most harm
In a series of instants, so let them be sold.
If I were president, I would give them away.
My elite subcommanders would do what I say.
Is it true that a massacre can be controlled
By the use of one’s rhetoric and true alarm?

I must look at my hatred. Our teacher-in-chief,
Knowing not that he’s doing so, offers the hope
That I don’t focus on him. He is but the sore
Of a wound suffered long ago. Never before
Have I re-felt such venom because of this dope.
This remains a hard lesson. Am I due relief?

No such thing will I know of unless there’s a change
In my way of perceiving all that must take place
As a function of being in this human form.
I perceive human hatred a recurrent storm.
Those who cannot believe that we’re all of one race
Are a lesson in my life, although that sounds strange.

The Mark Of Great People?

Fountainhead

It has done us some harm to sustain the belief
That we can’t be in heaven while still on this earth.
What it does is effectively let us forget
We can do much for ourselves with minimal sweat
To achieve what is best here and true to our worth.
Heaven is stolen from us, and we are the thief.

Much of heaven in this life means plenty of rest
But not too much. The body can take what it needs.
Exercising and eating well… All can be done
To maintain the life game and to score a homerun.
We succeed not through misery because our deeds
Seen by others seem those of people who are stressed.

Consciousness is a candle. In each the flame burns
Bringing that which is unseen into better sight.
As each candle gets closer, the light grows in size.
It illuminates everything. All become wise
To the Dark Psychic Forces that lean too far white.
Those who stand with integrity ease our concerns.

Dark Matter – Dark Energy

Interplay of Dark and Other Forces

It’s the beleaguered baryon brought forth and bathed
In a soup of some essence known only to God.
Of the whole soup, only a small bit we can see.
What is most of what’s not is called Dark Energy.
How do they know it’s not then? It seems rather odd
That we’d managed the big loss quite largely unscathed.

What becomes a Dark Matter is not to be seen
And is labeled mysterious. It interacts
With no resident substance nor energy source.
It holds big things together by some unknown force.
Standard exotic particles are browns and blacks.

Can a dirty old theory be made to look clean?

Who are the vast majority? Who are the few
Grossly visible and in great need of control?
Can dark forces be sorted out to the degree
That quantum resolution can set us all free?
What we make of this Dark Matter is of the soul.
What we can’t wrap our minds around often is true.

Testimony

Paragon of Patriotism

I once did serve my country… not as a Marine
But a navy radar tech of enlisted class.
It was more than a job for me, though it was that.
It’s to those who face danger I take off my hat.
Most Marines I knew were all about kicking ass.
They’re the noblest of creatures this nation has seen.

They can get loud and boisterous when drunk in a bar.
I’d prefer not to be near them when they’re that way.
I would trust no one else, though, were I in distress.
They will leap into harm’s way with no second guess.
Truly they are united. That’s how it will stay.
All Marines are of one heart. Divided we are.

I can tell a Marine when not in uniform.
One can sense their commitment in all that they do.
Loyalty is to duty. That’s all that life means.
Any wimp that can choose to cast doubt on Marines
Is perhaps one entangled in living untrue
To oneself or the nation caught up in the storm.

Forgiveness

Prayer In Desperation

Can you forgive someone with his foot up your ass?
He must take the damned thing out first. Then you’ll get there.
Or are you quite the mystic who seems not to be
Part of this world and all that most others can see?
I will pray for my enemy that he beware
That the hell dreamt and hoped for shall not come to pass.

Can the dull, aching nausea evolve into grace
When presented the miracle of guiding light
From omnipotent beingness? Can I believe
That the enemy’s shoe is something to receive
As a most gracious lesson? That doesn’t feel right.
Perhaps God can find someone to then take my place.

“On Your Knees,” demands Putin, consumed in much hate
And profusely delighted his plan is in play.
“Pray that fate may release you from my evil grip.
You will get used to life under my rulership.”

Is this sounding too farfetched? I’ll fetch any way
That can give the soul solace as I ruminate.

Fuck A Ballot Box!

Playing It Straight

You, the hell, say that waiting… then voting again
Is the proper way forward to rid the white house
Of the white beast within it? I say with no grin,
I done tried that before, boss. My patience is thin!
Did the shit work the last time? Vomit you espouse
As I smell that come from you, I must count to ten.

We are Butt Fucked and Hog Tied. Our system is Screwed!
You sound as if you’re Goldilocks or bitch Bo Peep.
“Just say no” to the ogre, then he’ll go away?
You’re a nightmarish fairytale for present day.
What’s become of my country? My hatred is deep
Yet my fear can surpass that and keep it subdued.

I’m afraid of what’s happening. Shit Is Dead Wrong!
It don’t take no collegiate to use common sense.
There’s no damned motherfucking thing that I can do
Than keep civil while bent over nailed by the screw.
Don’t tell me not to feel this. I take great offense
To perfuming the stench and singing a nice song.

Swamp Replacement Campaign

Swamp Maintenance via Russia

“Drain The Swamp,” was the slogan, then “Put Up That Wall!”
Foreign enemies know well how our nation works.

First, they watch us for decades. The patterns they see
Then can be used against us. We are completely
At the mercy of dark forces whose evil lurks
Like a thick, stinking, heavy cloud over us all.

How the Hell does this happen? The forefathers planned
Well for this kind of crisis. It’s built into law!
Some are helping the enemy to get around
Many rules of our nation. These people are bound
To some other commitment. Therein lies the flaw
That entraps the electable weakened of stand.

We all know this happening before our eyes.
This slow-motionless train wreck is ours but to watch
Somewhat helplessly while waiting for it to pass.
I am not a black Russian. Putin, Kiss My Ass!
As our leaders get off theirs, I hope they won’t botch
Up this process. That could well lead to our demise.

Rich White Trash

Convergence of Economic Realities

There’s a need to sound racist. It gets to some truth.
Human rubbish are one race. We make oneness smell
Like a trip to the outhouse that we keep inside
Where the heart is a black hole releasing no pride.
We’ve made this world our dumpster. Within it we dwell,
Self-Importantly arrogant and quite uncouth.

On the flip side of privilege, there are the poor.
That’s the primary reason we don’t get along.
Most will never know wealth nor the pleasures thereof.
Somewhat sick as a race, then, it’s hard to show love.
So, we single out certain groups and make them wrong.
There’s a point at which reason we vow to ignore.

Yet is this too simplistic? To speak about hate
In a tame enough manner and still get things clear
Is a task not worth trying. The trash in my mind
That blows in from the outside is not of my kind.
All my hatred can do is rekindle my fear
That we’re all not the same trash. I’m here to create.

Crucify Her!

Tribal Emnity

“Crucify Her!” They cried, and did so with Great pride
And their own word for greatness and times as they were.
“Go back to where you came from,” some group said to Christ.
Since before we were ‘upright’ we’d been sacrificed
By profound racial venom and what we ‘prefer’
To what is our reality. Hate Does Divide.

No war is ever civil, and all war goes on,
Never ceasing completely. Forever we are
Reconfiguring old hatreds to make them new.
History is a clockwork. We are the cuckoo.
The teen-aged-acting harem and their superstar
Is the darkest point, I hope, before a new dawn.

…You pathetic white women! …You whores of us all!
Why condemn who your white man treats as he does you?

Grow grotesque in your fondness for ‘good old boy’ days.
Let your husbands bull fuck you, then sing in their praise.
You are not my America. You are those who,
By the numbers, are likely to see your downfall.

Sarah Bee

Blind Conviction

It’s a story – one of glory – of the bold Miss Sarah Bee
Who became the meanest bulldog that the press would ever see.

Once a simple southern lady, she became a superstar,
But the light she was reflecting left her with a psychic scar.

Those believing her deceiving are as blind as they can be
To the dog that barked behind her. They respect their Sarah Bee.

Once a darling and a starling to the big dog of the pack,
She has lost their confidence. Now, she has left not looking back.

…Quite assumin’ of a woman that her bonnet for a bee
Could protect her form the specter that most others cannot see.

There’s no reason not to go for governor of Arkansas.
Working well in such a crime scene, she knows much about the law.

Who defined your bleak one-niner? Do you have an enemy
Such that meeting with The People is something you cannot see?

Well, my darlin’, like a marlin who’s escaped back to the sea,
You are free form close encounters involving misogyny.

Highfalutin, verbal shootin’, tyrant rootin’ Sarah Bee
…Hope you’re lost and gone forever. We The People do agree.

They Do Think We’re All Stupid!

Conflagration of Troubled Leadership

The disease of entitlement has become vogue.
White men stuffed in silk jackets must each wear a noose.
Why this is so is custom and much too absurd,
So, one wouldn’t be wise taking them at their word.
Slavery is professional as is abuse.
There’s a reason our government has become rogue.

We elected Obama. That was the last straw.
Not just once, but twice, we went and did the wrong thing.
Now, one hell of a backlash from nigger ascent
Reminds all that the fruits of our nation were meant
For the few white and wealthy. What freedom will ring
Is America ‘great’ again made into law.

They said, “Screw it! The People don’t know what they want.
They make foolish decisions. It’s now up to us
To return us to sanity and the white way.
We declare infiltration has seen its last day.”
One dose of the right nigger scares whites treasonous.

So, who’s up for the running? Who’s our confidant?

When The Cock Takes The Crosswalk

Apparent Normalcy on the Farm

Need I hear the cock stutter to know I’ve betrayed,
For the third and last instance, some semblance of hope
That a new day is coming? E’er when the cock crows,
All the sycophant chickens make sure that he knows
He can count on their loyalty. How do they cope?
Either they are well paid or just too damned afraid.

And maybe it’s for both reasons. Who know for sure?
It becomes a big mystery not to be solved
By our imperfect system – not anytime soon.
Would our congress act if we all barked at the moon?
It’s a shame that our leaders are not more evolved.
If I think of it that way, what must I endure?

When The Cock Takes The Crosswalk, as soon he must do,
He will then be crossing at the intersection
Of justice and confinement, perhaps behind bars.
We will pay for his upkeep and tend to our scars.
As the traffic increases, the cock comes undone.
He Shall Not Cross The Street Twice though he will want to.