Radiation Will Be The Judge To Which You Will Testify

Posts tagged “politics

A Gun Shot to the Head

Such is the fate of innocence and idolatry
When confronted with the amalgam of half-truths,
that float to you in the night,
glowing like fireflies, trapped inside glass tubes,
blinding you to what lies behind the glass,
Why don’t your eyes perceive,
instead of allowing punditry to paint your picture for you
what is wrong with your logic
has it failed?
has the engine inside the ministry of truth broken down?
do you choose to tie your shoes in the morning?
does your skin bruise, while you watch death, dead, and the mourning?
do you yield at railroad crossings,
sun-flavored warning lights, the only remaining signal,
attempting to warn you, that your fate is to become a carbon- buttermilk pancake with type-o  platelette syrup
Who ruined your membranes, and sabotaged your neurons,
so that they may fail in times of need,
why do the  soul-diseased dine in greed, 
plates of dead skin, making yours pallor with pain
please open your heart, rip the stitches fighting your eyelids out from beneath subcuteanous layers,
but be careful,
nothing is more volatile, than a loaded gun, hollow tip in the chamber,
or knowing your life is a constructed farce,
lamenting, led astray into the burning fields and fences

Pleasantries of the Burgoise

There it goes again, the munitions factory begins to sparkle,
like the sky from which the bombs are dropped,
 The janitor arrives early to prepare for the days missions,
its difficult work building weapons that destroy harder
The janitor whistles an old latin folk-song,
his sharp notes piercing stale factory air,
like steel harpoons, dancing through the darkness
with enough gusto to make a gold digger swoon
Now the sectors are prepped and ready,
the munitions engineer operates the rotary blades,
slow and steady,
cutting down the world like a solar-sized machete
The blade grows dull from such repititious posturing
so the janitor must work overtime,
and sharpen the blade for another day,
so the war can continue, escort it to new venues,
blowing sisters and brothers away

Misplaced Fidelity

There it is again,
like nostradamus, gazing into the seeing glass
grudgingly revealing its loudest secrets
sheep in pastures are blinded by the exhaust of punditry
You don’t have to call me special names,
or pay me a fee,
I can see what the future holds,
if only it was munificent, instead,
searing, fearing, and bold
Broken fingers and sliced ligaments would feel wonderful,
compared with the fate these carnivoires attempt to belie
It won’t work,
The short time i have witnessed,
Soaked my brain like ethanol into the flames
Igniting the source of our humanity,
adopting weapons and munitions,
reigning bane and demolition,
as your fingers scrape the rocks on the edge of the cliff,
allowing you to barely keep your sanity,
The weapons sear into flesh,
don’t fear that which stresses,
making you blush at your own, forlorn vanity
The skys will blaze,
your dirt cottage razed,
and this is only the first phase
Burn your fiat, it is as much worth as the stars,
able to purloin resources, no longer
never anything but a twinkle,
god laughing at the devil’s fertility  


Most don’t pay attention to the path i walk along,
and thats what i prefer
most lack the mental capacity to conjure my deposed motives,
my forlorn, savage persistence
living in a flame-out,  truly ravaged existence
Most can’t view the arson in my eyes,
The arson in my hands,
The fire in my heart
I wear labels to help them understand,
because i know the enemy they fear
I take pride, in chiding the “consensus” of your herd
both, because it is childish, silly, and totally illogical
and also,
because its sad
Its depressing when the most powerful reptiles that walk the planet,
spit into the faces of the weak
spit on the countries of the chosen,
and reign fire for a hundred years
Permanent bases of operandi,
no-bid, total contractual failure
Here are the gifts of my people
Here is what your country has become: a fuckin joke
destroying countries that have nothing to do with stated objectives,
sand and bodies remain in a cloud of fuckin smoke
The white phosphor melts the skin of children,
melts their kin into the past
this is not what the forefathers intended to build,
The document that holds us together is in tatters,
like textiles draped across homeless veterans, treatment refused
What glaring abuse,
such farcical diatribes, hiding in an american flag-hoodie
blindfolded like the lady of liberty
blowing smoke into the faces of the many,
sewing your lips shut,
a political ball gagged hypothesis
keeping the weak in dark, dank dungeons,
clubbing survivors with bludgeons
the thief leader, a truly bastardly curmudgeon
flag lapelles mean absolutely DICK
the proof is in the power, not ascribed, stolen
wishing that we all will not be destroyed