Poll: Vote OR DIE.
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View poll results: Vote OR DIE.
Navy
0 0%
Indigo
0 0%
Dark Green
2 40%
Teal
3 60%
Voters: 5.
#1
Don't be wasting my time
I've never wasted yours
Killing you would be useless
The common class would lose its voice

Drive those fancy cars
Drive as far as you can
The ruling mass should learn to leave
Leave alone the working man

So soon
Sooner than you're found
You will rue the day
You serenaded my hometown

What is it you want?
Would you care to mention?
You've not listened to a word we've said
Shut the f*ck up and pay attention

This could be taken as a call to arms
Then again where have arms got anyone?
We live in the age of war of the words
We've all got means to destroy the capitals
Lets start again; no leaders
Let the equal grow
No regime
No systems
No manifestos!



I've beaten at the copper in the flames
burning and luminous with every bashing of my hands
I don't know what commandments you deconstruct
while wielding my gifts

I am among others responsible for the deaths of many
why should I eradicate my ignorant ways
when you are not competent enough to stop me yourself

I am the object upon the gimbal
letting the others spin and contort
till their axes rust from experience
i have replaced far too many cycles to care

when the day comes
that the axes circle resolute
i will recede

so I keep pounding
listening to the vibrations of metals
all the while ignoring the screams that follow them



Panda Poem

Between the dribble of eucalyptus
And the sweet bamboo, pressed
Between the pressure of the solstice;
Pandas drink their wine.
And they ponder by the ounce why each day sets,
Why light is turned to night,
Why the imprint of trees leaves the clouds
And shadow is replaced by moonlight.
And in a drunken delusion, they always cry
To the night for an answer.
But the moon has a funny way of being empathetic;
Mutilating itself each night, carving slivers out of the whole,
'till Pandas are left in absolute dark;
Their questions waned
Into the waxing of the moons revival;
But they still cry, trying to will the waning power in the sky.
And while they drink their wine and cry, they ponder why.

Between the cage, housing a neighbor's birth,
And the sweet faux rocks, pressed
By the monotone of wind blowing in a gale around a miracle,
Tigers are born into a night,
But they are left, with fur sopping from the birthing
To ponder why their mother is not moving,
And their father is a million miles away.
But they are left with the wind of a miracle,
And ponder why,
Wind in the night can sear so completely,
And blind them something they never knew,
And now, will never know.
Ponder why a miracle can burn their senses,
And now, they will never taste sweetness.
They ponder why.

Earth, stars, elements.
Come to me, the zealous zookeeper,
Devour me in mystery,
And I will be forced to ponder why,
And I will cry into the night,
With the miracle of bereavement
Winding around me in a gale of drunken delusion,
Up towards the sky, up towards the clouds.
And I will ponder why.



Take a deep breath
and look up
past the trees,
past the rooftops.
and see in the darkness,
see the clouds
drifting silently and peacefully

Now look down
and the magic is lost
to the glow of the TV creeping its way outside
and the sound of my pen
clawing its way across the paper
searching endlessly
for what?

Look up again
at those same clouds, still wandering
with infinite patience
to find wherever it is that they are going.
the stars wink playfully
begging me to come join them

Now when I look up,
there is no deep breath
no worrying about getting lost up there
and not being able to find my way back
I don’t care anymore
I’ll get lost on purpose
and only pretend to try to find my way back home

and down here,
there is still the stinging glare of the florescent lights
burning unwanted images into my eyes
the scratch of the pen
is scraping across my eardrums
I don’t like it down here
so I look back up
and intend to never look back down again
Today I feel electric grey
I hope tomorrow, neon black