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Bryce Jun 2018
Gliding deftly along the city street
rolling quick and constantly
onward to some unknown scene,
some backward park in the nighttime
smoke curling from these
parted lips, moist and inviting
calling me somewhere I've never seen.

New day, new night
new feelings, rage in delight
fill me with your hilarious entropy,
knock my quarks into the next century,
will you please?

Now you're smoking the pipe and all at once you are free
between you and me, this smoke is thicker and sticks
like glue,
wispy and dreamy and the world spins and calls Toltec
telephone company can't pay me for all those calls collected
and rendered obsolete
Sun god dead as that silly calendar meme

Amaterasu,
and Imma tell you
these ladies in the picnic table
buried alive for boxed lunch and god's brunch
Jesus ******* Christ
and a indelible roster of good guys,
to which we all must strive to live and die
behind,
never moving forward
chasing our tails like a sick dog
under the jasmine runner between the decades-old tanbark
imported from overseas
dead trees
dead canine
and oh isn't it just divine?

You see it, pretty lady.
I can see it hiding behind your eyes
the things you don't tell the others because you're afraid
if they found out,
you'd be crucified.

Well honey I hate to inform,
With KGB efficiency that these love-a-dumbs
aint Methuselah,
they'll be dead!
long before your flood of tears tears me from the land
ballistas me across the great expanse to some strange Ararat
of the eastern seaboard,
or maybe wash me deep along the 80
into the desert sands and tiles
on a leaky cell phone screen
desperately trying to dial home on low battery,
realizing all this was one big deferred dream,
baking in the sun and shriveling
oh well, back to the grindstone-- all those lies plucked your nose,
gotta cut it back to size,
'else your soul it'll outgrow

Don't worry honey bee
It hasn't happened to me,
and We know with calcuable mathematical truth
that it'll never happen to you.
Yenson Oct 2018
Criminal Gang Stalking

Definition:

The crimes committed through gang stalking an individual are covertly done, hence little in evidence is left behind of the crime, and the target is left with little in the way of resources to defend him or herself.

Isolation, through disrupting socio-familial ties in an intense slander campaign, is usually achieved once the actual stalking begins.

A pervasive slandering campaign takes place, projecting the target as an unstable individual, child molester, a person with hidden dark secrets, or a person prone to psychopathic behavior.

The criminals planning a gang stalking endeavor study the target long before the stalking begins. Psychological profiling is done, and this is to assist in the overall campaign that includes intense psychological harassments and demoralizations. Tactics used go well beyond fear, demoralization and psychological harassment.

The tactics used have been the protocol in campaigns against common people implemented by the KGB in Soviet Russia, Nazis of **** Germany, and the KKK in the early to middle of last century in America.

The accumulation of all the tactics and events in this dangerously hurtful organized crime against an innocent human being can led to trauma and will emotionally bankrupt the targeted individual, and may lead to death, as suicide is often induced through the assaults. The perpetrators of gang stalking are serious criminals who do great damage, and the acts done are very serious crimes by any measure.

Gang Stalking is a highly criminal campaign, one directed at a target individual, and one that aims to destroy an innocent person’s life through covert harassments, malicious slander and carefully crafted and executed psychological assaults.

Gang Stalking deprives the targeted individual of their basic constitutional rights and destroys their freedom, setting a stage for the destruction of a person, socially, mental and physical, through a ceaseless assault that pervades all areas of a person’s life.

What drives such campaigns may be revenge for whistle blowing, or for highly critical individuals, as outspoken people have become targets. Other reasons why a person may become a target individual for stalking: ex-spouse revenge, criminal hate campaigns, politics, and racism.

Gang Stalking may be part of a larger phenomena that may have loose threads that extent into a number of differing entities, such as government, military, and large corporations, though it is certain that organized crime is one of gang’s stalking primary sources, or origins.

The goals of Gang Stalking are many. To cause the target to appear unstable mentally is one, and this is achieved through a carefully detailed assault using advanced psychological harassment techniques, and a variety of other tactics that are the usual protocol for gang stalking, such as street theater, mobbing, pervasive petty disrespecting.

Targets experience the following :

A total invasion of privacy
Pervasive and horrific slander
Isolation through alienation that is caused by the slander. 4.Destruction of, or alienation from all things that the target holds dear.
Ground Work: A discrediting campaign is initiated long before the target is actually stalked. They, the criminal perpetrators, twist and fabricate reality through such a campaign, displaying lies that paint the target as a child molester, a person with hidden dark secrets, an highly unstable individual who may be a threat to society, a *******, or a longtime drug user, etc.

The slandering or discrediting campaign sets the stage for the target to become alienated in just about every social-familial- work environment, once the actual stalking begins. This slandering campaign is instrumental in eliminating all resource and avenue of defense for the target, before the actual stalking begins.

This stage is one that sees people close to the target, family, friends, neighbors, and co-workers recruited by the perpetrator criminals, who will pose as law enforcement officials, private investigators, or a groups of concerned citizens.

The Gang Stalking is aimed at achieving one or all of the follow:

induced suicide
financial devastation
homelessness
institutionalization in psyche wards
Once actual Stalking begins: The target will endure a vast array of tactics: gas lighting, street theater, drugging, gassings, scent harassment, mobbing, subtle but frequent destruction of property, killing of pets

Psychological profiling will be done so as to initiate an intense psychological harassment assault. Staged happenings and planned or directed conversations will take place around the target in public or places of work, and serves not only to undermine the targets psychology, but also may be used to cause the target to thinking that he or she is under investigation for horrific crimes.

Stalkers will have studied the target to such a level that they know and can predict the person’s behavior. Again, often the target will think that they are being investigated for crimes that would be absurd for the target to have actually committed. Not knowing what actually is happening, the target is isolated and lives through a never ending living nightmare.

Once the target finds out that they are a target individual for gang stalking, or multi stalking, they may have some relief, but from what I have read, the stalking simply changes dimensions a bit, and continues.

Identifying the exact people who initiated gang stalking campaigns is difficult, or near impossible, and this makes it very difficult for people researching this phenomena to discover, in certainty, the roots and genealogy of the crime. Investigation of a “Gang Stalking” crime would require a great deal of resources, and intensity similar to ****** investigations.
WHAT THEY DON'T WANT YOU TO KNOW....THIS IS THE TRUTH.

Background information, please read 'Where Is Justice' by same author on this site.
This horrendous situation is happening in our Great civilised Nation,
Francie Lynch Oct 2017
(Think Where Have All the Flowers Gone)

Where have all the assassins gone,
I'm just asking,
Where have all the hit-men gone,
It wasn't long ago.
Where have all the psychos gone,
Ones like Sirhan Sirhan,
Or a crazy red Russian,
Better still, an American.

Where have all the agencies gone,
I'm just asking,
The MI5, the CIA,
KGB, Mossad;
Where have covert actions gone,
When there's guys like crazed Kim Jong;
Or a crazed American,
A narcissistic American.

Where have all our heroes gone,
I'm just asking;
Where have all our leaders gone,
Not so long ago.
Where have all fine Presidents gone,
Obama was our last good one;
When will we ever learn,
Ego-maniacs can't govern.
Read to the melody of "Where Have All the Flowers Gone."
Enlarged and re-posted.
David Ehrgott Oct 2015
Bi polar bear bouncing up and down
on a summer high one year
Got to walk the wall

in China before I wore those shirts
an excuse to use/not to wear
When I was getting perks

And reminding me to stay in line
how lucky that it is to get all of this
for nothing more than just a Kremlin kiss

Kathy's kissing in the Kremlin
Chatting after she had tea
And we're hiding from the KGB
Kathy's kissing in the Kremlin

And I went up to Alaska, the final frontier
Found a tent to defrost in Antarctica
Sunk to the bottom of the ocean floor
Where it is all lit up
and I rode the Himalayan Sky
Sold the pictures to the book with yellow trim
and

Kathy's kissing in the Kremlin
Flying there again.  Kathy's kissing in the Kremlin
Kissing in the Kremlin
Kissing in the Kremlin
Jared Eli Nov 2013
Santa was a hit man and he had no alibi
His big red suit was drenched in blood, more vibrant than a dye
See, Mrs. Clause was KGB, and the North Pole was her base
And Santa was the corporate shell that really owned the place
The "elves" were political prisoners (and yes, some were rather short)
And the present-giving Christmas was the day Clause would report
But when the Union went away, there was no need for Clauses
And they ripped up the whole contract (not covered in Incidental Causes)
Mrs. Clause got into drinking, and it got worse everyday
'Till it happened: she was so drunk, she keeled over in the hay
They found her the next morning with a reindeer on her head
Santa knew before the med report that Mrs. Clause was dead
So he went back to the basics, and he hooked into Network 1
The most top secret channel where certain agents have their fun
He was lost without his partner (their marriage was arranged)
She had handled the business,his financial sense was left estranged
He knew without her, he'd go under; have to sell the Pole to the West
He needed to make the payments by doing just what he knew best
Santa filled the role of assassin, killing silently with grace
He laid a finger beside his nose before he shoved the gun up in your face
Making the hits look unconnected, well he varied up his style
In fact he was thinking of being a "serial killer" and followed that up for a little while
But his stealing milk and cookies didn't clue anybody in
Maybe it just wasn't plausible to blame the fat man and his grin
Whatever the case, he's a random killer who strikes with impunity
With a swish of his coat, he jumps roof to roof, flaunting his immunity
CHEEKI BREEKI Apr 2014
Oh Vova, My little Vova
Sitting on your throne of skulls
You survey your frozen kingdom
and as you always do
You grimace
With bitterness tempered by the ages
Born a citizen of a scarlet empire. now the tyrant of a tricolor nation          
You are both the largest and the smallest man
Who does reside in this time-worn land
You rule your potemkin empire with a fist of iron, a gaze of lead and a voice of kolokol-1
Your inhumanity is well practiced
From your days in the KGB
Your “New Russia” is merely a kleptocratic mockery of it’s golden years
A cheap ersatz mimicry
of Russia’s grandest days
Few things could bring your hard slavic face to show
Even the smallest modicum of joy
But there he stands
Dima!, oh Dima
The light of your life
The only man with the power
To make the Czar smile
a free verse poem about Russian president Vladamir Putin written rather hastily for a class
Lily Aug 2013
I wish I could greet death
Like a svelte Russian KGB agent
With bright red lipstick and a menthol
Dangling from my mouth
Leaning against a brick wall
So casually

But in reality

I will greet death like a newborn infant
Alone in the world until it meets the eyes
Of its mother

I will greet death
Hiding under a desk
With the barrel of a gun pointed at my face
Wondering when was the last time I told my mother I loved her.

I will greet death like a naïve university student
Learning about entropy
Did you know,
There’s a law of thermodynamics which states entropy is
What the universe is constantly moving towards
Energy resolving itself into a more probable arrangement
Like the moment it all clicked together
My universe, my body, my system
All shifting to a more probable arrangement,
that is Death.
Classy J Jul 2016
Yeah, I've rhymed about how my life aint equal or fair, and i've talked my experience living in this toxic atmosphere. A lot don't care, but problem is that I do, searching for answers to life, and wondering what I should do. Free spirit that delivers thy message onto you, so you can try to figure out the real you. I've talked about how no matter where you are on the spectrum it is flawed, and if there is even a God. I don't know I'm just broken trying to find the golden token to a free pass, and I hope for my prayers to be answered every time I get my **** out of bed to attend sunday mass. I read about so many different faiths, listening to believers even though I may not understand everything thing that they saith. But Forget it, even though I want to get it, I must accept it. I may never know why, I may never know who to believe, because humans are known to deceive. Misconceptions, propaganda, telling me to believe in their all knowing, loving, and powerful commanda.

What if we deserve the fate we've brought to this world, or maybe this is all one big simulation or dream world. I don't know man, I'm just like alice falling down the rabbit hole, I have no control, plummeting hopefully towards my goal. Am I just delirious, wondering why these deep issues make some uncomfortable or furious? Wondering what my purpose is, blackening out as if it were a surprise pop quiz. But it just is what it is, but nobody cares, how come we have to wonder why the worlds in so much disrepair? Obscure the once normal small world, restore order without invoking fear, clear the unclear and help those that are still unsure. Nature will persevere through guidance and affection, because a healthy environment provides protection to the natural selection. We don't have to stay infected by all the lie's, because it'll eat away us like we simon from the lord of the flies. Eww... but seriously think about it dude, it's just apart of what i bring to the table with my honest hitting sequel to my classy interlude.

Change your thinking, change your attitude, so that you may find oneness with yourself, so that you will no longer have a incoherent mood. Don't mind me brewing my queries and theory's, I'm just like tech n9ne because I have an evil brain and a angel heart to finish this series. Don't come near to me, for I am not thinking to clearly, nevermore will I fear thee. Flip the switch, not supposed to be here like i'm a glitch. Work hard cause I live to be the best, try to take me down but I will never rest till I **** the pest. I confess that I'm strange, rearranging my life so that I can reverse the game and trap the vermin's in the cage.  Don't know how to start, finding myself going in loops, it's like life has turned into mario kart. Trapped and compelled to speak death, because my nice side is all but deserted and i'm starting to lose my breath. Lost time and I lost patience with all these patients that don't know me, even though they say we homies, ***** you guys, you are nothing but a bunch of phoney cronies. Have a message, got to stress it, so don't mess with it, you got it? Boy you don't know anybody like me, ***** being classy, I'll shoot all you down like i'm the gosh **** KGB. 

 No freeloading from me, like I said before I'm a broken soul who just longs to be free. It's not just the government and society, even though they continually lie to me. No it's more than that, it's like this whole planet is about to have a heart attack. Polluting all the air, polluting all the clean water, wondering when humanity started to falter? It's our own d* fault though, but we don't admit to it, we just sit there fondling our *****, thinking we discrete when we doing it. That's just foolishness, whether or not you acknowledge it, at the end of the day all our deeds don't mean s*. We are no more than a misdemeanour, putting on a front, we like to think we different, even though in reality we stink more than a skunk. Oh mister Classy J you need to chill out dude, because the populous can't handle all your conniving honesty you be spitting in this second interlude. Haha fool, why do you think I care? Why do you think I would change? I warned since the beginning that I was deranged.

I will say what I have to say, I promise that I will no take your opinions to heart any day.I giving yawl a choice to listen, now it's up to you to make your own decisions. Oh right I forgot, that the society that we living in can't let us be different, otherwise we get labelled, making fun of us until we can't handle it anymore and hang ourselves with a cable. ***** all you dinguses, you think you can just say to us that we just have kiss your ****, and think that we'll pucker up because you also promised us a sucker? Oh no no no that's not how this game will go, because that is not how I roll, you pansies are so pitiful. Future has no class because of the past we left for them, because we were too greedy and needy, expecting everything in life to be crème de la crème. Truth hurts but I hope that this rap will help you see that we are all to blame, but that we can still change before it's to late to undo the outcome of this rigged game.
David Ehrgott Nov 2014
Leningrad in the spring of '81
Now that was a spring break
Sans the Florida girls
Three nights there
Two more in Moscow
The hotel room in Leningrad
Two whole days of *******
The bosses wife
And the knocking on the doors
By the military dependents
"Keep the noise down,
Knock that off" they plead
"Don't you know what time it is?"
I have no other memory of Leningrad
Because I never got to see any of it
The best time I ever had

in Moscow, the buildings, so grand
I just wanted to take a picture
and was surrounded by guards with
guns
Really big men with very big guns
Upon a pat down the KGB found
A pack of cigarettes on my person
"American Marlboros" he exclaimed
While passing them out to his buddies
"Here, try one of ours" he states
while offering a Russian version
of the same product/not the same product
I choked on it "see" said the cop
"You Americans RICH"

Comrades, have you seen him?
The great imperialist
The man who will destroy us
Paul Hardwick Aug 2015
This one is so going to be looked at
by the men in Black
so don't say
I told you
maybe ever the KGB who knows.
As neil steped out
the first words were not this one step ect.
it was neil saying buzz
got a problem
what neil
the elastic just gone on my dippers
and the installer liquid is tricking into my boots
at that buzz got onto nassa
Houston we have a problem
the elastic gone in neils dippers
**** drifting around
inside neils suit
and man do I have to live with him
all the way back
for we have no shower.
You will never see neil the same again
sorry
Paul A Moon Jun 2016
I. Double edged swords

Every evening, spring keeps its marriage
to winter. Twilight is crazily quilt
in orange as purple with scattering grays, sage

stars calmly coalescing and being built
into constellations… The twilight air
imposed winter’s silence. People slit

these pavements as capricious walkers. There
is a squirrel within and out of trees, or cat
eating a rat in a squeaking swallow. Are

the homeless equal to BlackWater’s scrounging what
state alms exists? No…Night’s misery
is never silent, so unseen more---that

is civilization…****** of industry
are its captains. Blood subsidies, ****
ravage and revile Eve and Mary:

our Mothers in regret over humanity. Keep
Palestine’s Olive Tree in heart…
Eastern Star, and Western Constellations, weep

for the nameless and defenseless ramparts
of refugees: Moses again… Here in Queens,
Manhattan’s gaudy skyline rapports

a look of 11th Avenue’s Rahab’s face. Scenes
of red and blue, white broken teeth buildings
from too many *******, and pained spleens

of her here and there, everywhere, “It’s a living…”
Ugliness has a pretty face, it progresses…
Winter’s chill will soon be here, not forgiving

those who are homeless from God, homeless
from being brethren’s keepers. We are quick
winter. Death is us, and we are death, endless

because of our need for a monied physique .
Poems are for poets, sing. As you were silenced,
your song was written in winters oblique

in their endings, its prayers against the NKVD
KGB and un-repenting CIA, a spoken
covenant to the people, and the words rhymed  

against the powerful from Stalin to Reagan…
We’re blessed for the verbal and intellectual
knife of verse. We must sing against state’s sin.

As you did scrawling on soap bars habitual,
writing, with burnt matches, ritual.

II. Your Legend

Called ***** and nun, there’s a price
for being a poet: never sequestered
in black and white terms, clerk or captain
king or peasant, Christian or pagan:

our stamps earned in civilization.
By seeing things in gray, a poet intuits
monsters we knew as children are
real as warheads once aimed at one another.

Our hands, their lingering fingers and palms,
can either be nailed on a martyr’s arms,
or holding a scythe or Wesson. Your wishes
were fists wounding your heart---your anguishes.

Why did subtle music bloom from your lips?
Why hadn’t your tongue expressed bitterness
from the Muses of lonely Siberia
or **** bombs---destroying statues of Maria

in Saint Petersburg?  Why did your voice remain?
There are only questions about you, for
your  pain and joy seemed the same: you cried.
It surely seemed both should have died.

Drinking ***** was surcease from bureaucrats,
to your son’s exile to Siberia, these cruel cascades
of the state. Watch the platoons, and
see their eyes in long ceremonial parades

for the state’s saints: dying from heart attacks before
your mourned demise. Did one shed a tear?
Only posterity knows. As the present can infer,
veterans are always “was” and “were”, never now here…

In here, where the written word was a noose,
and sentences were genocide, thus a paragraph,
a stanza, or even an essay was inconceivable
horror people receiving an order’s end.

In here, where order promulgates,
where time is counted by snowflakes
where space is counted by snowflakes,
why is never asked, it’s just struck with, “Do.”

But, it was when despair was thick withered
winter branches, without hint of leaves or spring,
love needed anguish to show its strength
love needed this psaltery against death.


III. The seen and unseen

Thinking of you Anna, ah this world.
Then, as the world lives and does
as just bearing witness,
the guts to live and bear pain
is in the poet’s voice,
in the saint
the seemingly graceless soldier
******, Matthew, Saul, Romero.
Song found, song lost
Song of Songs,
the poet names the names
of all to give monsters and empires
a voice
to be seen and unseen,
with a cold lunar heart,
and to let prayer
come as souls decapitated from this Palestine,
this Armenia, this Navajo nation,
with a left-handed signature, tear written.
Jon Shierling Jan 2014
The medium which brought us together
  is the only way I know
how to convey to you what's in my heart.
  Since I can't touch you, or speak to you,
or make love to you, I will have to write to you.

To be completely honest, I don't know if
  I have the power to be
who it is you need me to be.

I don't know how to take the shame that's been
  shackled to you like an unexpected visit from KGB,
and help you believe that it's all a lie.

Believe me when I say that I know,
  how unyielding self-loathing can be
especially when there are good things
  pulling you away from that empty place in your heart.

But that's why we found each other I think,
   to prove to one another, that the past
only has the power to keep us locked within it.

I promise you that one day, regardless of our supposed weaknesses,
   that emptiness will be filled, and the light will come back.
Bob B Jan 2017
Ex-KGB agent
Vladimir Putin knows a great deal
About spying and gathering info
And making a person talk--or squeal.

The FBI, CIA,
And NSA have found a connection
Between Putin and a campaign
To alter the results of our election.

To denigrate Hillary Clinton
Was one of the hackers' primary goals.
By hacking into email accounts
And--with the help of Internet trolls--

Amplifying false reports,
Putin's hackers aimed to block
Clinton's chances of being president.
That they did it is no shock.

At altering Russia's election results,
Putin's expertise is shining.
Anyone who criticizes
The tyrant is worth undermining.

Consequently, Clinton became
The target of Putin's wrath.
A little manipulation and we
Are now seeing the aftermath.

Trump, instead of feeling outrage,
Was really more concerned about who's
Responsible for having leaked
Some of the info to NBC News!

The fact that Russia tampered with
Our election doesn't faze him.
What interests him is vengeance against
Anyone who doesn't praise him.

- by Bob B (1-7-16)
Francie Lynch Mar 2022
Where have all the assassins gone,
I'm just asking,
Where have all the hit-men gone,
It wasn't long ago.
Where have all the psychos gone,
Ones like Sirhan Sirhan,
Or a crazy red Russian,
Lining crosshairs for Vlad Putin.

Where have all the agencies gone,
I'm just asking,
The MI5, the CIA,
KGB, Mossad;
Where have covert actions gone,
When there's guys like crazed Kim Jong;
Or a crazed Red Russian,
A narcissistic Vlad Putin.

Where have all our heroes gone,
I'm just asking;
Where have all our leaders gone,
Not so long ago.
Where have all fine Russians gone;
Boris was their last good one;
When will we ever learn,
Ego-maniacs can't govern.
Think: "Where Have All the Flowers Gone."
John F McCullagh Aug 2015
Those lovely folks at N.S.A.  love reading your e-mails.
They parse each line in search of crime; the devil’s in the details.
Those Patriots at A T & T are equal to the task
of providing them with access; they’ll do anything they’re asked.
They spy upon the great and small, the poets and the dreamers,
to catch a whiff of nasty plots now being hatched by schemers.
They’ve spied upon Sarkozy and they’ve eavesdropped in on Merkel.
They tapped lines in the U.N. and other diplomatic circles.
Their corporation cronies provide them with full access for no fee;
This makes our spies the envy of the Russian KGB
So when you reach out and touch someone, don’t assume you are alone.
I’m pretty sure big brother is there listening on the phone.
the unholy union of the NSA and At & T
John F McCullagh Jun 2014
They monitor the internet.
They listen in on calls.
They spy on foreign Heads of State-
Believe me that takes *****
Their surveillance apparatus
Makes the KGB look LAX.
Omniscience is their stated aim
to “protect” us from attacks.
So put up with whole body scans
And show your papers please.
I believe the cure for terror
Will prove worse than the disease.
Mourned the death of privacy and Liberty in America, once the last great hope of the World.
Glenn Currier Nov 2021
Last night a man told me the story
of his visit to a mass grave of believers
made by the former KGB in Russia.
As he looked on that scene
his sadness surged into sobs
thinking of the torture and death
suffered by those good people.
But then a flow of joy merged in the moment
as he looked at his Russian hosts
who still carried the faith and fidelity
birthed by the prior generation.

As I listened last night
and now reflect on his story
I am struck by the depth, pathos
and sheer humanity
underneath my friend’s tears.
In that profound moment
the ineffible mixture of sadness and joy
seemed a creature of the spirit -
of an invisible higher realm.
With gratitude to my friend Kevin, a Christian, for sharing this experience with me. As he spoke, I almost stopped breathing, not wanting to miss a moment, a precious particle of this event in his life.

Throughout the history of the Soviet Union (1917–1991), there were periods when Soviet authorities through the KGB, the Soviet secret police, brutally suppressed and persecuted various forms of Christianity. Soviet policy consistently advocated the control, suppression, and ultimately, the elimination of religious beliefs. However, most religions were never officially outlawed.
Martin Narrod Mar 2014
Dr. Bob and the guilty two. In a basket they carry you.
What the river knows, is Saint Anthony. Cleopatra and Moses
Star on Dawson's Creek.

There were silver bells coated with Vaseline last night,
Rayon lights on lips- the clock arm diet, little
Rub-a-Dub, KGB, and No. 4.

This is who we are.
This is how we speak.
Come on over, yea!
Be inside the part of parties.
Come on dressed in bows, boys all dressed in roses.
Candle-light chandelier surprise, we're in the kingdom of the wise.

Talk so cheap its whispered. Instead
Let's get a bit closer. The lean,
A skinny kiss, for another hot-girl in a slim-fitting dress.

Be it yellow or white,
A neon pink design?
My stylist doesn't mind-
We take our clothes off,
So you can get to know us.

Seventy valets, the moon is out in full bloom.
"One more bottle to the living room!"
All the boys they dance, while the girls rub on their pants.
The treasure hunt has began, I can use the map but you can't,

No need to  sleep it off, hey! Hey!
The DJ plays through, it's Saturday, hey! Hey!
My bedroom's right this way,
While you get laid, I get paid.
A hammer and sickle to tickle them
cries of, 'it's Stalin' to ******* them, then
silence on Red Square.

Dacha's popping up everywhere
communism like evangelism
gathers the money in

holiday plans.

There are true ***** drinkers
thinkers like
Solzhenitsyn
gulags
and the rags of
Moscow.

I won't go

to the palace where tells of a ****** or
on the long road that tells us of more.

The KGB
a resident family of the community
are looking for me via Odessa.

I've gone to Sweden to lead 'em astray, can't stay in the concrete connivance no way, but
I end up in Siberia wearier than the dogs who run with the pack.

Looking back at the back of it
there's a lack of it, but I'll manage it and a carriage would help a bit to carry me home .
TR3F1LD Aug 2024
in realness, I don't dig villains, although
there are some ways
villainous jerks are preferred
by me; ones with thE̲Y̲ hands blood-stained
without excuse, like usurpers, deserve
to be, like it was with European nations once, plagued
by a big misfortune, for sure
[the "Black Death" plague pandemic regarded as a big misfortune for Europe]
[to avoid misunderstandings: I don't mean then Europe deserved the Plague]
[the "European nations" part is used only to have a simile]
but, like someone with an RH̲-like mind frame
[Jason Todd as Red Hood from the "DC" universe]
I wouldn't mind 'em mU̲rked, like some works
of mine made as if by someO̲ne cray; guess I ain't
really the type who becomes fazed by dark ways
like someone walking through nocturnal suburbs (dark ways)
wouldn't mind a torturer of a guiltless pers. to get forced
to intense tortures that hurt
so much he'd admit he's a horrible ****
unless that **** meets the fourth of those horsemen before
the admission of his ******* occurs
[the fourth horseman of the Apocalypse is death]
don't confuse it fO̲r someone's door
taken off by a spetsnaz force in the course
of a storm if my mind seems unhinged according to yours
like a perp with no other means of ge[ɪ]tting rI̲d of
a corpse than to undertake a burial o[ʌ]f
it, ones watching rainbows should be digging deeper
["undertaker"; by "watching rainbows", I mean something like]
["being distracted by something nice"]
on how much this world A̲I̲n't like fairytale stuff
it's corruption that is a base of evil (corruption)
sim. to the astounding peninsula compound linked
to that psychopathic ex-KGB̲ heel (base of evil)
["KGB heel" is supposed to be read/pronounced with the stress on "B"]
so the wicked aren't really bothered by morals
and stuff; then why should injustice-perpetrating people
with power be treated like sO̲meone who's normal? (***** 'em)
those means of dealing with issues that make us civil
[journalism, massive peaceful protests]
[the independent court system, fair & transparent elections, etc.]
shouldn't be disregarded, of cO̲U̲rse, al—
[shouldn't be disregarded in normal circumstances, but under autocracy]
[or when organized crime groups are as powerful as the state]
[civil means aren't effective to change the status quo]
—though, in my view, like I've cracked a sA̲febox brimful
with paper cu[ʌ]rrency rO̲lls, jewe[—]ls
["dough in my view"]
it's V-/Red-Hood-like a[ɛ]ntiheroes
who're required to fight O̲nes from the circle
of so-called depraved supremos
[powerful members of the underworld & agents of authoritarian regimes]
for if you think a state as corrupt & infernal
as the North Korean one can be changed in legal
ways, it's pro[ɑ]b'ly white **̲rse y'all
are on, like a knight with his armor shining
sadly, such men o[ɑ]ftentI̲mes end
up a la Navalny (sadly)
rephrasing what I've tried to convey bY̲ the writing
if there's a large-scale fire po[ɑ]pping
I'd advise to deal with it by air water-bo[ɑ]mbing
"vigilante mind frame" by TR3F1LD (TRFLD) is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (to view a copy of this license, visit creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0)
Imagine just how life might be
Without the old apostrophe
That humble punctuator we
Should deem to not be necess’ry

Of course, in all sincerity
We’d go on with what’s custom’ry
Just using them, so flippantly
From ** Chi Minh to gay Paree

A punctuation KGB
Would roam the streets incessantly
And persecute those, foolishly
Who slip one in ’twixt N and T

For every single time that we
Should use that little stroke, you see
Shall cost us, it will not be free
We’ll pay a high apostrofee

As months do pass, eventually
The use of an apostrophe
Becomes rare as a butterflee
Forgotten most entirely

With passing years, we’d eagerly
Write words in their entirety
Remarking, “is it not so twee
That words are not perfunctory?”

Our compromised efficiency
Would bother neither you nor me
And so arrives the time that we
Will make the world apostrofree.

— The End —