Deny it; it makes no difference:
the American government pitches its deceitful realtor-reality to the world:
flaunting our flag as the banner of the free, but avoiding
our faults and failures as a country.
“Oh yes! We’re rollin’ in the (borrowed) bucks!
We’re a proud superpower capable of chaos; calamity!”
Well, kudos on your catastrophes: we all know it’s a hollow show.

See, we’re slaves to China, bound by China’s chains
to billions of dollars, the deficit deepening daily.
And who’s to blame?
“Not I!” says the Democrat.
“Not I!” says the Republican.
“Not I” say I, but we
weaved our financial woes together.
It’s not stupidity; if we could see into the future, we’d be shakin’ our money makers.
But have you seen the current fiscal guillotine
whose blade looms low and approaching our throats?
Oh, irony of ironies: the American government isn’t free.
Oh mah gee.
Freak out!
Calm down...
Forbes informs me that federal spending spurs private sector growth.
But when fifty-four thousand buckaroos from you
and you
and you
and me too is just enough
to cover Congress’ **** until the dimwits there do another... (insert something dumb),
it’s time to draw the line.

And time to erase lines previously drawn:
George Washington warned us once before:
“...the common and continual mischiefs of [political] parties are sufficient to make it the... duty of a wise people to discourage... it.”
Yet here we are: the media’s reporting majority wars
that serve only to sail us further offshore from Pristine America
and a time when things really seemed to matter, especially when they did.
Deny it; it doesn’t matter; it doesn’t change
our chances of escaping another Cuban
Missile
Crisis. If we waged World
                               War
                                            Three, what would we
                                                       do?
                                                               One
thing: debate, procrastinate, our fate
a fragile plaything fought over
by infantile, full-grown fanatics who never quite phased out of high school debate.
They never learned to lose, and so they play the inane blame game,
I say quite frankly: gurl. Dat cray-cray.

Dear Democracy, when will my words hold water?
When will the weight of a rainbow OREO or a
monogamous monotone monotheistic chicken sandwich
on my guilty conscience be lifted?
Must I muster a hungry lackluster life in the land of opportunity
to oppose tyranny
and uphold justice? I turned eighteen last December,
but for as long as I can remember
I’ve been voting with the dollar bill, my ballot
traveling through the bloodstream, fueling the body of big business, who fuel the daring charities, who fuel their bills in congress.

Democracy, do you know me?

For this faux-democratic nation where the population waits for the government to lay itself to waste, the Founding Fathers sob, disgraced.
                                                       Oh, God Bless America!
the nation where when faced with any
[man, woman, child, intersex, genderqueer, etc.] who dares defile the status quo,
accept the stigma like a crown of thorns, on top of all the scorn
                                                                    We The People
donate millions to “charities” who dare to speak for
Jesus,
the meek and mild. John chapter eight, verses one through eight:
he drew a
fine line in the
sand, man:
it’s where your rights end and mine begin. Irony, irony: they are as good as
mine.
For this faux-democratic nation where the population waits for the government to lay itself to waste, the Founding Fathers sob, disgraced.

My auspicious and audacious assault augments the annoyance of aged accomplices.

My bodacious broadside of boffolas berates and buffaloes bros beneficently.

A classy crusade Clownishly chiseling and criticizing childishness.

A devilish ******* of dillydallying dullards; devoutly denying dimwits the dulcet dream of defiance.

Excessive, exuberant edification, ebulliently eliminating education-evictees.

A fair-weather frolic in flippancy with furious fools floundering in flawed foppishness.

Gregariously grating glum guys gleefully, growing grander garnishes of gripping gallantry gaily.

Heckling hooligans highlights my heavenly humor.

Irreverently irking irritable, iniquitous idiots in inestimably infuriating and incredible instances.

A jolly, jocular **** joking with jerks.

A kreiger kicking kleptomaniacs in the karyotype. (Cut me some slack, this is 'k', after all.)

A ludicrous, laughing lambaste of lollygagging lunatics, loftily loosing luscious lunacy on lucky losers.

A magnificent masterpiece of malfeasance, a monstrous, malevolent mission of massive misfortune for the minor minors missing no malicious missive.

A noxious, narcissistic niggling of nitwits, niftily nixing the noisome naivete of niggardly nobs.

An offhand, off-color outburst of outlandish observations to outclass the obnoxious overtures of obsequious offal.

A pragmatic prediction of possible platitudes or platypi, a placid parley of pyrotechnic pleasantries provoking Pyrrhic protections by prurient prats.

A quixotic quibble quarreling with a queer quarry.

Ribald ribbing, ruining the robust reality of the repreachful, repugnant, and rapacious with risque ridiculousness.

A silly, slighting slander of sluglike slavishness, succinctly sinking sloppy simpletons sourly.

Tracing the titillating talent of towing tyranny to towering terrors to tactless, togless, terrapins of the times.

No tomb like the present
A suffocating fact
I shan't see the crescent
A summer with no tact

There is a distinct, quiet suffering
That plagues the air every which summer
Though out there, the world is rapidly expanding
The smell of rot is the one that catches my nostril
As for what rots, I am not sure
Perhaps the trouble lies within myself
But in these days, I am slower, less responsive
And my conversations get more unhinged
With the entities in my living space
As for whether they are hallucinated
Or it's me yelling at bugs that have entered
I honestly would not be able to say

The air is thick, thicker than milky fog
And this thickness hurts the purity
Pure, white snow falls from my eyes
And cold, piercing winds from my throat
Icicles grow upon my fingertips
And my hair is made of frozen grass
I am the late autumn and early winter, I am
My stark and hailing demeanor freezes the weak
I am the very definition of an ice queen
Or at the very least I definitely pretend to be
Even though it's a charade everyone ignores

Have you ever sat in the back seat, while a parent drove?
You might even feel a bit of affection from them
So it is not so bad, not quite as impersonable
Not as horrifying as the passenger's seat
You are at risk but you are not the operative word
I am currently in the passenger's seat of my life
Have you ever felt similarly? Like you lost control?
My interactions are pure instincts and pheromones
My preferences are base level urges in all cases
Even the music I so enjoy, I entrust not to myself
But to the almighty, for their hand is far more sturdy
I shake, like an autumn leaf in a hurricane
Barely holding on the driver, which is always them
I will never learn how to drive a car

I often get called an adept storyteller
Some people call me vivid or imaginative, even
So I suppose I might as well ask the people in my head
To help me conjure up some short tales for you;
This one is of a young girl, dreaming

In some dreams she finds herself in a rancid, green room
There with her is another girl, a cynical kind
The two of them may have loved each other once, but
That time has long since passed
Acts of carnal urges and violence come to pass
Mold grows on the walls and ceilings
The camera slowly pans away from them, *******
To show the director and the audience

In some dreams, she finds herself in a small Japanese home
Discussing the fate of that infamous 100 ryo
"You'll never get it back" says the cynical girl
She vows to get it back and leaves the room
Most of the scene is silent, save for cicadas
In the night she returns, scars all over her face
She brutally dismembers the cynical girl
She simply was not meant to be a ronin

In some dreams she finds herself in a police station
The cynical woman is on the other ends of the desk
"We've got you by the *****, ****" she says
The girl answers only with a scoff and a crooked smile
"If you had me by the *****, this would be more enjoyable"
The cynical girl seems embarrassed, upset
The director shouts "More emotion, you dimwits, more!"
The camera zooms in, with shaking motion, towards the girl

In some dreams she finds herself alone, it's snowing inside
The cynical girl left. Surely something far more important.
She begins to draw a mural, in the style of Basquiat
A funky little guy, baby blue, bright orange, neon pink lines
Once done, she hears a voice: "It's been a while, babes"
Finally, he was back! It was the mural, speaking
Or in some sense, the very walls of the room spoke to her
"What's groovy, baby?" he asks, with his usual cheer

There's many more dreams to share, like the one where they reminisce
Or the one where they're janissaries, stationed in Serbia
Or the one where they're communists, in a bar during the Great War
Or the one where space has been conquered and they stayed back at home
Or the one where the mural learns to play drums, and the shadowy figure joins
I didn't even talk about the shadowy figure, even though he's a major character!
I mean hell, even I joined them occasionally, once they asked
They figured out I didn't know everything, and talked to me, what a lovely bunch
But obviously at one point, spunky little girls have to wake up

In this dream, she finds herself alone again, in a regular room
The heat of the scorching sun has been illuminating her abode all day
She remembers that in this reality, she plays improvised music
And yet, in such horrid weather, it'd be suicide to go play right now
She is sluggish, unconcerned, seemingly in another world already
No tomb like the present, she thinks and repeats, like a mantric chant
"No time! You keep saying the phrase all wrong!" a voice reprimands her
She knows and she deems it an unfit day to have yet more drama
"I know... I just thought the pun was amusing..."
She says in retort to herself, in order to pass the time.

Autistically
speaking
I applaud
your intelligence!

flap flap
clap clap

when you
don't think
before
you think

flap flap
clap clap

or open your
*******
******* mouth!

and disparage
and belittle
those with

a learning
disability.

But then maybe
It's you who is
disabled
as you don't
seem able to
distinguish
between what
is right and wrong
what is cruel and kind

flap flap
clap clap

in your ignorance
you are blind
and your
intellectual mind
is a snob
of the worse kind

Looking down
from your high brow
because you
are so clever

I forget
Let's all applaud
and you can remark
(Out of context of course)
that they're all ******* retards

flap flap
clap clap

Well aren't you hard!
You bully when
you say

the dimwits
and the morons,
unloveable,
undateable,
unwanted,
a drain of society
they should all be
put down.

Not somebody
you would choose
to be friends with
or if you did
it would be so you
take advantage of
an idiots good nature
and pure heart!

flap flap
clap clap

Or so you
could look good
in comparison
to them
and maybe it
would knock your
own IQ up
a number or two!

Your average ******
could teach you a
thing about numbers
if you asked them

And you wouldn't want
your own kids
playing
with them
incase they catch it....

Catch what?....
the ability to be
awesome
to think outside
the box
to see feel and
understand
and experience
the world and
people in a
completely
unheard of way.
To smell colours
and taste words,
and your inability
to deviate from
anything other
than your narrow
little mind
really is absurd!

So let's all clap
and flap flap
flap flap flap
and maybe
shriek a bit too!

They are the true
freethinkers
the true misfits
the pure and
the truly blessed

They are
the ones
the people
who are
"different"
"Individual"
as you
would like
to be

flap flap
clap clap
You ignorant ****!

Autistically speaking

Who's the ****** now?



©Jacqui Slade

It’s the billionaire’s coup–Trump, Putin and Musk.
They’re bleeding us out, from dawn until dusk.
Consumer protections, arts, farms, forestry–
the billionaires say they’re not necessary.
From the money they save, the tax cuts will come
to the billionaires, the millionaires, their daughters and sons.
Balance the budget, so they can all have some.

So many workers deemed useless and lazy,
such as nuclear engineers–whoops! Are they crazy?
Shredding all of Congress’s appropriations
and thumbing their noses at all other nations.
Except Putin’s, because, he’s one of them--
the billionaire’s club of rich white old men,
who share dreams of ransacking the whole world, entire,
until all of it ends in storms, floods and fire.
Then off via SpaceX past the Milky Way’s limits.
No, that’s not possible. But deep down they’re dimwits.
You can fool some of us, all of the time,
You can’t fool us all, and  I’ll end this rhyme:
We’ll protest, we’ll sue, we’ll go out on strikes.
And if the time comes–their heads stuck on pikes.

I ponder what my parents told me,
“The light in your eyes is back.”
Not because I am happy,
(or sober…)

Its because I stare at the dimly lit skyline
In the City of Brotherly Love,
In a melancholy manner.

While I could make some cliché allegory
Of a cigarette being another source of faint luminescence.

But I am a college student,
A speck of a presence drowning in dimwits,
With such bright futures ahead!
(Along with a large sum of debt.)

So while I sit and stare
At the city lights,
Soaking in suicidal thoughts at the SEPTA station.

Remember the light in my eyes
Is a reflection of those city lights.
Dimly lit,
Not aflame.
I have no one but myself to blame.

You never
thought I'd
say never.

Get Clever.

**** a sickle from the star,
******' stick it in a cross.
******' vinegar, I'm hot.
I don't dance a lot.

Pull it it back
like a bow,
you'll never know
what I'm talking about,
I'll just throw
my paint at
the canvas, let it
work itself out.

Pucker up and tuck
it in. **** it up
and bless your sin.

Keep the privileged in their place
and keep the simple in their space,
there is no common you can't erase.

Too many
******' problems,
you wish
you
could
******' solve 'em.

Too much hate?
Your heart
has never had
to participate.

******' lonely?
You've got
too much
on your plate.

Reciprocate.

The surface,
the focus,
I'm sure of all of this.

Get clever.

In all seriousness,
I hate to say it's not an art that's improvised, it's more like you camp out, waiting, sitting, wishing, thinking, eating, waiting, sitting, wishing, thinking. Praying like **** for the the snare that you set up in an half assed attempt, like always, ******* hoping it comes through for you. Pathetic isn't it?

I've got too many ideas and as these dimwits stare at the bright light behind me I get sadder.
You're probably getting madder, like I'm a ******* ingrate, It's not too late to call me out because I've just begun my tirade.

Unreadable, I know.
If you made it this far I've got to say, you are completely frivolous, and forlorn;
for that I salute you, and realizing this is all in bad taste, I bid you goodnight.

****, that was fast. Didn't even get to what I meant to.

At the will of my wants, I grab at the bag my city has to offer, and coffer up the cash in my crash of a party that never started in the alarmingly empty vessels, settled under the rain, and below the fog in a swamp of frogs, and snakes, where i stake my claims, and state my name at the door.

Its darker here, but there is something more, hiding in the mud, the trees, and under the floor, rising up in waves in a haze of euphoria.

You just know it, it just is, just this feeling of forgotten forests rotting through the ages, of ageless storms that sweltered its soil through the toil of horned beasts, preying on predators creeping through the sleet, reeking of meat that melted in the summer heat.

Now its just a bar where i drink and type into this thing, completely unaware of the people staring at my cheeks flexing as i think, and i think, the sun will rise this time, but i still sink a bit deeper each day, and sign my life to work, in the murky smog where im begotten of beguiled planks that i march right off of.

Smiling, and inspired by the brinks i keep to my chest for the best of dreams to be achieved in the melancholy belief, that it matters to see the light in darker things that often freeze in the shadowy breeze of intellect, but once in, it is infectious, a pleasurable sedative to align my derivatives prism-ed from my vision to the sprawl of letters on the screen.

I pluck and pick what goes into it, and tune out the ridiculous ******* spread all over the dim-lit dimwits dozing in the smokers pit, reciting lines in inadequate rhymes of how they aligned their life's away, with babies and wives, equipped with knives that still hang from their backs.

The solo drunk drools the best, as he laughs.

a bit faded, i cruise through loose threads in my argument.
i recoil from dimwits that flip wigs and false coin.
i join the null set of lost clubs on main street, discreetly -
but strut like a peacock in leather feathers,
for non -boys...
so many
girls.

i'm in two worlds,
but **** if she don't fit in, pro bono.
she knows what i don't know, like a book spout of lovely.
my bones lend juice to the stew of her gifts, when she'll have me.
but luck gets cut and what not, and better fellas
rob joy from so
many worlds

they're Cuckoo.

i snip pearls
for this
one.

my intentions are
sincere
if not

see-through.

☭ ⛧ Ⓐ

Violent dimwits, who riot en masse
remain dimwits, no matter what pass.
Whether paid agitators
or mere perpetrators,
they need a swift kick in the ***.

Some days remembered
are so dark
that I never want to
remember them and some days
are happy as a lark
making me wish that
they would last forever
and forget them
I could never.

Try to  realize that
every moment of your life
is the most important moment
so know that no future time
is better than now to let down
your guard and love.

Pride says "it's risky"
as reason says "it's pointless"
but the heart whispers "give it a try"
and sometimes you will have to cry
upon recalling those
days remembered.

Some days remembered are amazing
and some days are happy
and some are sad and some
are amazing happy and sad
all at the same time
so just be glad that you
are human.

Having had some fun
and blessed beyond belief
to have made it this far
I guess what I am still
looking for is a little relief
instead of feeling
like a thief because
my poetry speaks volumes
about some very ugly
parts of my life that
were filled with much strife
and emotions so thick you
could cut them
with a knife.

I 've had some fun
matching wits
with lost love dimwits
and playing their love games
that just left me lame
but with lots of
days remembered and
a knowing that
what sometimes breaks us
makes us stronger
and gives us the power
to go on for just a little longer
as we recall those days
remembered.       Jon  York         2013

As you know, I come from an emotional, dysfunctional delusion
A sort of internal, infernal, disowning confusion
This pain is sempiternal, but I'm a dynamite with the fuse lit
I’m not gonna complain again, cause that’d be useless
I mean it’s not like she’d ever hear the words that I say it's
As if I never spoke them, oh god I'm nuisance

I'm so pessimistic
It's really pathetic
To watch me **** myself over a few sad sentences
I'm so narcissistic
It's really poetic
To tie the knots on my noose with my own words

Before I die though
I'll go on the aggressive
With some passive resistance
Because I'm honestly quite sick of all this constant *******
Call me Ghandi and I'll be quick to dismiss it
Unlike him, I know when I'm through being messed with
And I don't let people step on me like I'm a rug on their doorstep
Unlike me, he's not over possessive
And people didn't call him out for being over obsessive
But we both fight for what we think is right
Except he teaches on the lesson
While I'm kind of offensive
And the amount of times I swear is a little over excessive
But It helps get the point across to these ******* thick headed dimwits
So I can see how I'm not one they'd be impressed with
You know who you are when I'm this far on the defensive
I'm just a little over protective
There's no limit to how much I can stress it
You'd be my way too if you were looking from my perspective.
Because what if all of the sudden
Like a flame in the kitchen
Something you thought was normal grew into something that isn't
Because they only listen
When there is no way of saving
And only when you die do they even look what you've written
Poem after song and song after poem
I'm so sick of all these words unspoken
But I'll let out all my thoughts and that is a promise
So look me in the eyes and I'll be honest

Let's see, Emily turned twelve in February(2016), Evan turned fifteen about a week ago(March 2016), I will turn....okay, we can toss that one out the window. It does evoke memories however, memories that will never go away, at least I hope not.
New to this world, lying in your crib, looking up at me while changing your diaper, I could see  and almost hear the wheels in your head churning, as if saying, "So you're the dimwits that will be rearing me for the next several years, God help us!" And He did, has, and hopefully, will continue to do so with Evan and Emily. It was a new experience for us, a welcomed responsibility, and I think that Karen and I did a "pretty darned good job!"

We didn't do it alone.

Thank you Lord, for your guidance!

rriddle: 04-03-2016

It tells a story, the grip of such men
You can give it a mark from one up to ten
The flaccid none particular of whom you might as well forget
From the strong and sturdy and pleased to meet you, much more of a safe bet
For a hand with five fingers that has no strength will hold up no life long wills
It will crumble and fail at the first sign on danger, never willing to foot the bills
But a rigorous grasp with a smile and heartily clasp is a better hand to follow
Not a weak and wet lettuce, whose hand felt like a cretins, mostly hiding in the shadows
As life can often take us on a path led by utter dimwits
But choose a journey not laid out by those who you just don't seem fit.

JJB

I can't feel my face anymore
It's as if my whole world has gone numb
My wings have been snapped clean off
Now I'm living off the scraps like some type of wild animal
I can't breathe...
Feels like I'm being suffocated by the seven seas
But in actuality it's just the pain getting the best of me
As I crawl attempting to reach sanctuary
But everytime it seems like I'm getting closer to the light
I can feel the darkness creeping up my spine and yanking me back into the heart of the night
It then caress me like a momma to her new born baby
Whispering in my ears there is no escaping
I'm stranded here
And there is no one coming to rescue me
I mean why would they...
I'm in this mess because of those dimwits
Always kicking me and punching me
Making me feel like I'm nothing more then an old piece of chewed up gum stuck to the bottom of your shoes
Can't blame them though,
Because that's what I am
A nuisance, an inconvenience to society
So instead of fighting it let me embrace it
Now I'm dead trapped in a unmarked wooden box

Smiling...

I watched "Judgment at Nuremberg" last
night, I have seen that film many times.
However, in light of our nation's current
chaotic political direction, that theme and
topic have taken on a new unsettling and
dire significance. The implied specter of
the term "National Socialism" is all too
ominous.

73 million people died or were murdered in
WWII when a nation of otherwise normal
rational people were ****** in by listening to
a homely, little possibly insane former German
army Corporal rant and rave their nation into
a frenzy of cultism, and "National Socialism".
Through lies and deceptions, Adolf ******
plunged the entire world into a chaotic and
destructive war.

I can't be the only one to see and be deeply
concerned by the undeniable significance and
similarities of our current parallel direction
towards a National Socialism agenda?
Inspired and led by the newly appointed wonky
cult of administrative dimwits and their newly
self-anointed unstable KING, that appear not
to give a **** about our laws, our Constitution
or any of us as individual free citizens.

Our US government watchdogs the Congress
and Senate seem to have lost their direction and
patriotism, grown spineless and mute under the
spell or fear of King Trump.

Wake up America!
We are headed in a very bad direction.

It seems they own us already... Well played... Well played... Thanks to all the fuckwits with out integrity or vision... **** all the dimwits placated with social justice bs and not on choices and moral values caring for life and living. We are all well and truly ******. Virus take me, this **** is laying out a painful future I don't want to be a part of. Stay safe. You're never safe.  It's immunity or strength. We're still part of a conspiracy we all didn't want to see coming...

Oh, where are you Orwell when we need you? What a prophet, wondrous genius labelled it fantasy so that those who could see may lead the blind...

War machine no1 mkultra on steroids social and cultural shift media. Blurry lines, smaller tribes are overcome much easier with global propaganda. Watching the sun's role in global warming. It is omnipotent and we are in its fancy, but as we destroy ourselves we lament and continue our diet of convienence truths and lies.

Where are you Orwell when we need you? What a prophet, wondrous genius labelled it fantasy so that those who could see may lead the blind...

Our youth dumber and more pandered and selfish than ever
The road to communism was never straight
Our identities once given now traded into the thin air of whimsy only to be handed them again.

As we destroy ourselves we lament and continue our diet of convienent truths and lies.

The Beast the bible foretold, is ourselves and what the elements we have created as the four horse men...


never a truer wiser book was there written than the humble of the humblessed... yeah I know you see what I did there... or do you? Best blessings SS **

Bi, Bi, Bi,
two and either
this or that
Ain't that what the woman said
so if that s the case, why come opposing
come rain on my parade
come sabotage like good gang stalkers do
come do your job and create doubts and confusion
I put you where I want you and make you look foolish as you are
its a job for you, a plaything to while away boredom for me
you are jokes, thirty years and yet you can't frustrate one man
you should hang your head in shame, majority always win
the majority that's been hopping up and down for over thirty years
just one man, no help or support, yet you still can't drive mad
you still can't frustrate enough to even say a breakdown
you are pathetic, CONTEMPTIBLE, a pure and utter pack of
MORONS
fools trying to anchor Black...you think I am as STUPID as YOU
even if black, can't my eyes its not that complexion
I don't think in colors, I don't have a one track mind
and you all are too STUPID to play with my mind
the EVIDENCE is before you dimwits
30 years and you can't frustrate ONE SINGLE MAN
Where is your SHAME....

Some people have tattoos.
Others don’t wear shoes.
The kindest people I know
are not afraid to show

all their colors boldly.
Though they’re greeted coldly
from narrow-minded folks
who snicker and make jokes

at people different from them.
Treated as coughed up phlegm.
What a sad world it’s become.
Swept away like a crumb

because I hold my ground.
I never will be bound
by other people’s limits.
Those so-called people are dimwits!

Feels like I’m on the brink,
Every time I open up my pie hole.
Will I live to see another cinco de mayo?
Hold up gotta let that **** sink.
Before it numbs out cause of the wine-o.
That liquid courage, that helps me nab some fine **’s.
I’m fine though, I swear I don’t need no shrink!
Knowing **** well I’ll end up either in jail, rehab or like Amy Winehouse.
And I know it’s a miracle I lived this long, cause trust me bud I had my doubts.
Gotta **** around to find out.
Reality sure ain’t no Mickey Mouse clubhouse.
(Insert mickey voice and gun fire)
Ain’t sleep a wink in a minute.
Got One eye open playing paw patrol.
Looking out for the monsters ink cause I ain’t complicit.
I’m Just a paranoid guy spacing out to rock and roll.
Eating bats and other **** deemed explicit.
As if the Prince of darkness has taken over my soul.
Riling up the media to distract the dimwits.
From the Illuminati, if you know you know.
But as they say one gotta be careful if one spills it.
Cause you’ll Get suicided like Epstein in a hot minute!

Come on chavs
come stop me, stop me quick
I'm so hot...I'm smoking, stop me now
or I'll set your women on fire

indulgent dummies decide
we are going to degrade execellence
we don't like confident people
we hate the strong and secured self assured types
after-all we should all be equal,
its unfair that man has a big **** and intelligent to boot
we must gang up and tear him down
drain his confidence
make him feel weak, insecure, frightened and *******
that's what we cowardly bully do

In your limping dreams, you half baked potatoes
like it my fault you are too stupid to develop and grow
to make use of opportunities, instead of chickening out
and blaming others'oh its because my dad is a dustman'
its because I didn't go to the right school
Its because my leg fell off...*******
you're a bunch of indulgent, weak, efforts adverse spoilt cowards
you don't make the efforts, you can never put yourself out
or make sacrifices or withstand just a bit of pressure

I married one of youse
she thinks I'm too hard because I push her to achieve
to strive, be strong, stop being a ******* snowflake
look at the Indian shopkeeper who opens from 7a.m. till 11 p.m.
when he drives a Roller, you dimwits gets envious
I don't see you busting anything to reach heights
then you think dweeps like you can gang up and turn me into
a brainless weak shallow, dumb, indulgent, nonsense's like you
we are planting seeds of doubts in his mind, yea *** I'm a dope
*** I'm a dumb toe-rags like you
like some immature toddy fool sitting before a PC writing ****
I see you, I laugh at you, you are nothing but pathetic weaklings
Thieving, joyless, weak, underhand backstabbers
Arrogant, lying, false, fake, *****=playing charlatans