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My position is distant
My path discursive
My equality punctured
Set back, tortured
My corpse is painted
My rainbow is tainted
My bones are contracting
My skin is cracking

A knowledge abductions
Formed with childish seduction
Leaving me
Foam on the Dead Sea
Holding back
The tears of the seldom heard
Holding back
The worst kind of words

I'm heliotropic
Turning, turning, turning
My soporific voice
Is dying, dying, dying
Like a suicide survivor
Submerging ever higher
Schizophrenic priestess
Nepotistic phantom
     I'm sand
Have you ever been to Nairobi?
What did you see there?
Buildings, people and vehicles?
Uhmmm! Let me share with you my case
Hence I was there yesterday,
And I saw wonders of life;
Jubilant politicians clashing for tyranny,
At the Nairobi parliament,
Making anti-human laws,
Under faked canopy of de-terrorization,
With no tincture of surrender to open truth,
That; in juvenile states like Kenya,
Corruption is a minefield of terrorism,
Corrupt management of state organs;
The policemen and state spies,
Hired on full back-up of corruption,
Gives leeway to thriving of terrorism,
As a security agent hired nepotistic-ally,
Will never fight terrorism with a knack,
Leave police work to policemen with passion,
Not to your kinsmen and loyalists in politics,


I saw jubilant politicians high on nerves,
Excited like a swine on ****** heat,
Or they were possessed by the evil spirit,
Or crushed by the African cult of dictatorship,
Where humanity derives pleasure from political pains,
Scornfully viewing humane governance,
As dictatorship will fortunately give a bloom,
Of swift doors and windows of corruption,
Primitive accumulation of filthy wealth,
And apotheosification of the worthless self,
Into a lull of blind self-made god-ship

I saw a jubilant politician going pugnacious,
Forcefully restoring dark days of Toroitich arap Moi,
Making a law which a monkey cannot make,
Hitting a fellow politicians,
With all might and knack of a devil,
Shredding into laces the trouser of a colleague,
Exposing red lingerie of the fellow colleague,
Partially exposing the tools of child making,
Only to the positive chagrin of us all,
On discovery of the circumcised *****,

I saw jubilant dictator-maniac politicians,
Passing a law of shooting to death,
Him the police feels may be a terrorist,
Or detain at pleasure, without trial
Him that looks ugly like a terrorist,
A suspect is a snake to be crushed the head on sight,
But not all snakes are poisonous Mr. Politico-Jubilant,
Some are ornamental and others poisonously harmless,
Even snakes need fair trial,
Just like suspect of genocide,
Before the international criminal court,
Before a blow of hammer crushes their heads,
Let me ask you my dear reader,
A foolish question as usual;
What are snakes to the jubilant politics of Nairobi?
A political non loyalist who perhaps can chide,
The powers that be from their gusto of power,

I saw jubilant politicians in full gear of idiosyncrancies,
Passing the law to gag friends of the poor,
The NGO’s; the poor man’s uni-source of hope,
They have been relieving the poor man of Kenya,
From horrendous traditions of   epidemics,
In Turkana, Budalangi and marginalized Mandera,
Helping men and women of these areas to be free,
From tyranny of perennially missing basic needs,
This freedom is now thwarted,
Lest it gives these poor men right of speech,
Thwarted artfully in the **** of NGO’S,
Through false label of the time,
That they play *** with terrorist groups,
What a big a lie?

By
Alexander Khamala  Opicho,
Eldoret,Kenya
Trevor Gates May 2013
Welcome to tonight’s show

Allow me to introduce myself.

I go by many names


Some of which, you may know
But those do not need to be mentioned
a howl, a moan, a scream, a summoning
Let’s keep this interesting.


This is the midnight calling
This is the raven cawing

This is the shadow lurking
And the jackals slurping

The demons wailing
While Charon is sailing,

The Acheron
The river
The first

The Eternal song
Of dripping livers
and Thirst

Stop

This is all confusing
And amusing
To some
And many
But to me it is painful

Demeaning
Putrid
Repugnant
Detrimental
Disturbing

And

­A subjective simmer of passivity
A pious dose of sheer calamity

Once upon a time

In a land past the desert
Was a neon capped city
Devoid of hope

And shaped by
Casual nihilism

And too much money

A powerful portrait in all its brevity
The display of sweltering people melting against the asphalt
The mucous sunscreen and coarse sand between the toes

And crooked nails
And bleached hair
And coffee stained teeth
And pink nails
And Gucci purses
And Versace dresses
Shutter Shades
Corvettes
$5 lap dances

And promiscuous preteen slaves
To MTV
VH1
Pop sensations
Internet ****
Social networks
Smart phones
Model rock stars
Models
Interviews
Auditions
Mundane seductively
For him
Or she
The nepotistic aficionado

of  

Delicious, robust, superb, disdain  
*******: Nose Candy
******: Snake venom
After Parties: ******* adrenaline
***** Film tryouts: Garage studio
LSD: Acid
Plastic: Lips, skins, *******.
24/7
Hits of E
X-T-C

and

Do you have change for a hundred?
Or a change for a life?

Cites in Dust
Thank Siouxsie and the Banshees; A carnival.

Shout
Tears for Fears, they’re Head over Heels

Love will Tear Us apart
From Joy Division, who claims she’s lost control

Los Angeles
“X”
Exene and Billy Zoom’s Wild Gift.

The perpetual rise of sunset rockers and Neon knights.
Teens crawling through the muck of socialites and incubator nightmares
Civil borders wired by racial slurs and salivating bigotry
Water replaced by blood
Spit interchanged for souls
And fire traded for icy methamphetamine

Warriors and survivors

Poets and dreamers

Shooters and inhalers

Geeks and groupies

Burnouts and Dropouts

Sweet dreams are made of this



Such a show, such a show! Bravo Bravo! Thank you, thanks to all I have time to thank: Martin Sheen, Julius Ceasar, Fender Guitars, Randy Marsh, elbow pads, Chuck Berry, Al Green, X, Joy Division, Tears for Fears, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Less than Zero, Alucard, Humphrey Bogart, Grace Kelly, Daryl Dixon, George Harrison, Brad Pitt, Rooney Mara (Love you), Belstaff, Emma Watson (Love you too), Laure Heriard Dubreuil, Manolo Blahnik, Hannah Murray and Michele Abeles.

So many to mention, so little time. We’ll be back.
This is one of my favorites I've done so far in this series. I had just finished reading Less Than Zero by Bret Easton Ellis and watch Gregg Araki's films, The Doom Generation and Nowhere, which all three sum up the existentialism and merging rampancy of living in Los Angeles, California. An experience I will never forget.
Will Dameron Jan 2013
Her face
A decade of over ex-posure
to synthetic radiation coupled with far too much
-Time.

Time spent looking disgusted at non-trivial ventures
created an irreparable
leather-bulldog façade.

A healthy dose of
nepotistic narcissism
and the articulation of
railroad spikes trailing across an empty slate.

A month's compensation
signing the all-too familiar signature
across the fibers of her liver

How to resist
Such a specimen of modernism?
A de Carvalho May 2012
We live in a world of noise,
of parallel and asymmetric movement,
where nonchalance has become the norm.
Sweet, melodious and pleasing
is our phony makeup.
We are animals that reject our animalness.

We dread nuclear, secular, red lights, cockroaches, love,
threats and non-threats alike.
Fear has taken us on its morning stroll,
and predictably we bark.
(The sun is almost up)  

We are turned on and turned off
by oil-, wind- and hydro-powered switches
that respond to clapping.
There are beige, mauve and burgundy
curtains to choose from,
and supersized french-fries, pots, and cars.
We have lost ourselves in a mess of options,
and strive incessantly to complicate.

We fly in formation
and flow through carefully placed
and beautifully colored rocks made from Styrofoam,
down an improbable *****
of over-romanticized hypotheses.
We are *******, ego-centric and nepotistic,
and asexually multiply.

Thought and all other wasted rationality
keeps the axes of our unsustainable and fanatical wheels
from breaking loose (into free space and true autonomy).
We create meaning where there is no meaning,
and scientifically and thoroughly flout
god and the truth,
whilst we absorb, photosynthesize, bear fruits and grow leaves
(we are still, essentially, vegetable).

With every step we go deeper, and faster and better,
and farther from our selves.
Hence, we barely feel.
We are deaf and blind and mute
and approximately frozen;
and dance, swirl, sing and scream
in our vague, whimsical life,
till we fall.
Brent Kincaid Apr 2018
Hypocritical catastrophe,
Irreverent duplicity,
Luminarial ludiocrity,
Nonsensical impetuosity.

Flippy floppy, slippy sloppy,
Blamey gamey, shame, shame, shame.

Constitutional incongruity,
Jesuitical dictatoriality,
Oxymoronic partiality,
Nepotistic surreality.

Materialistic abnormality,
Monetaristic conviviality ,
Ritualistic mediocrity,
Histrionic philanthropy.

Gotten rotten, misbegotten
Seldom truthful, lie, lie, lie.

Misdirection genuflection,
Malefaction justification,
Incarceration implication,
Resignation profliferation.

Prevarication reiteration,
Damnation indication,
Malefaction direction
Undetected discretion.

Flippy floppy, slippy sloppy,
Blamey gamey, shame, shame, shame.
Gotten rotten, misbegotten
Seldom truthful, lie, lie, lie.
WGelles Jul 2017
He's a bully.  He's a goon.
He can't be gone too soon.
A sadistic megalomaniac
he would crush Forrest Gump
like a rotten tree stump
"because Forrest Gump is a loser, a sad pathetic little man
and I am a winner, the people love me, we have
an amazing relationship, just amazing."
If you swallowed all his lies
you will need a stomach pump.
If you believe his nationalist nonsense
you're a chump.
He surrounds himself with nepotistic relations
and wealthy cronies
and listens to them only.
Despite his empty promises
the Rust Belt is not going to
wake up from its slump any time soon.
Military spending (but not your real wages)
will take a huge jump.
The sooner he's dumped
the better off for all
   though a right-wing Christian fundamentalist
       is waiting in the wings
           ready to take his place
  and help the One Percent control the human race.
Brent Kincaid Oct 2015
Why are you shouting out loud?
Are you saying I am too proud?
Do you think I am undeserving?
If so, it is completely unnerving
That you don’t want me to own
What you see as yours alone;
A sense of dignity and hope.
You must see me as a dope
Who can’t see you getting rich.
You are one shallow sonofabitch
If you think just calling me villain
Will somehow make me willing
To give up my own free voice
So that only you have a choice
About how much I will make
And which decisions I take
About my own home and body.
Can you really be that shoddy?

Well, yes, I have learned you are.
You think you are a superstar
And are immune to decency
That your star is in ascendency.
Well, I really hope that it is not
And that your tail gets caught
In the door before it slams
And we see the last of your scams
And your nepotistic buddy deals
And get back to what is real
And proper for our poor nation
Instead of graft and intimidation
That makes wealth for a few.
Nothing for me, all for you.
Gabriel Bonney Sep 2019
Tower of Silence - Track 2

Intro
(((Hey, I’m heading back up my tower
I am be careful!
I’ll come down when it’s no longer safe)))

Hook
There’s panic in the lines of these rhymes I make
Maybe I shouldn’t tell you but it’s kinda late
You should probably be concerned with our mental state
The truth is all around me but my mind’s not made
My heart is with you somewhere but my head’s not safe

Verse 1
I’m a product of this culture, just another soul convinced it’s over
Taken over, taken fall to the world of overexposure
I’m the poacher, killing this son and killing my brothers
I fear my crave for blood—circling above
No I am not enough, no this is not enough
Whose blood soaks the door? Should I even do this anymore?
I am a vulture, feasting on a past that’s dead
Blood-soaked feet—keep my fangs soaked in pain
Can’t escape the thoughts ramped in my brain
Plummet on the thought that my mind’s insane

I’m just another copy
Copy and paste, brob’ly, He caught me
Is this really who I’m suppose to be?
This is not what you’re suppose to see
Who is this that’s stoppin’ me?
Voices, voices tell me I’m a copy
Bounty, on me—tired of mockery
Counterfeit seems to fit the description
To the point it’s ‘bout to stop me
Is this the plan of the one who bought me?
If so, nothin’ can’t stop me

Hook
There’s panic in the lines of these rhymes I make
Maybe I shouldn’t tell you but it’s kinda late
You should probably be concerned with our mental state
The truth is all around me but my mind’s not made
My heart is with you somewhere but my head’s not safe

Verse 2
My Kind, my Blood—they mean so much to me
I hide, behind—who I’m not suppose to be
No, this is not what you’re suppose to be
Is this suppose to be what’s truly me?
Take it easy with this poet, please
I’m scared to death of what you’ll think
Because it could be the death of me
I’m scared of my own voice
I don’t know if it’s my own choice
This thing—is it just a dream or is it the beginning
If singing is my meaning
A cover over my head, I wear a headset
Noise begins to make me afraid on my mindset
I let words get through—I regret
That I allow the words to linger and set
This has come to be my headrest, I bet
The reset, is just another test
A solution to drown is not the best
Because now the sound gives me no rest
But the nepotistic noise and voices I get
Becomes my choice with the volume I set

Hook
There’s panic in the lines of these rhymes I make
Maybe I shouldn’t tell you but it’s kinda late
You should probably be concerned with our mental state
The truth is all around me but my mind’s not made
My heart is with you somewhere but my head’s not safe
You should probably be concerned with our mental state

Verse 3
There’s a problem with our society
Worse than suicide, depression, and anxiety
It’s how we deal with these problems
Rather, it’s how we cause them
If I didn’t know better, I’d think you look a bit dead yourself
Not a Heaver, not a Breather, just caught up in your head
But wake up and join our battle cry
To help these dry bones come to life
Scared of the pace in change so you stay in place
Open your eyes and crank up our volume
Fall out of formation, help our vocation
And take a chance to take off your costume
Because right now our rates are hallow
It’s culture’s fault, though it forbids
So wake up to the things that you hid
And what you put on display
That death is a logical way
I don’t mean to sound harsh
It’s just, we need your heart
I don’t want to be crude
It’s just, I think it’s a but rude
Just what Sleepers do
Listen, I fall victim to it too
Please excuse me and do what I do
But no it’s not just a mere fad clad in sadness
They need to know, together we will get far
And help us say this gloom is not who we are
Come together in this path that needs paving
And be wary of the message you’re engraving

Outro
My opinion, life’s worth living
Culture say, might as well
Problem is, it won’t sell
Death’s addictive, but the price to live
Is worth the pay, so I will stay
Please stick around, I’ll have you found
Darren Whippe Apr 2021
Your heart is an heirloom that I can’t help but claim as my own
An antique watch: cracked ivory face, brittle steel frame, and fraying leather band
A ratty sweatshirt from a forgotten holiday
A bottle of old nail polish swiped from your sister’s dresser
A broken computer in the school library
A dented car you got for your sweet sixteen
An internship from your nepotistic uncle
A hollow house you inherited after a tragic death
A shaggy dog left behind by a cousin who moved away
A name you pass on to your progeny
A gift you’ve entrusted to me
Katie Nov 2024
Once more upon the breach, I suppose;
I find my hatred surging in me,
Vitriol and spittle no longer in repose
And the demon they call us set free.
For every step forward we take
We seem destined an eternal fall back,
Everything that made me better, fake,
And I find forgiveness is something I lack.
They call us a thousand awful things,
Each shouted from behind a mirror, cracked.
In delight, this murderous mob sings
Of the **** and ****** they felt they lacked
Yet they refuse to take their own blame.
Better it be us they mark and defame,
To further justify keeping hell the same
And keeping it under the same old name.
My family is large, aflood with those
Across the seas that feel this pain
More closely than I do. For now.
But that family's time is close,
Each one's worth now torn in twain
As their killers prepare to endow
Their nepotistic filth with all
That we used to call our own.
Freedom to be, locked behind this wall
Of bitterness and revenge you've sown.

My family will fight to live.
I will fight to live.
Bob B Feb 6
How sad when the president is an ***--
An ignorant, shameless buffoon;
A hypocritical, disrespectful,
Egomaniacal loon;

A nasty, dangerous, vengeful bully--
Corrupt, deceptive, and rude;
An anti-democratic tyrant--
Spoiled, obnoxious, and crude;

A faithless, abhorrent misogynist--
Malignantly narcissistic;
A mean, malevolent, cruel coward--
Racist and chauvinistic;

A hateful, dishonest, selfish fraudster--
An empty, soulless shell;
A xeno-, ****-, trans-…and ah!...
Islamophobe as well;

A nepotistic, hardhearted,
Ignominious brute;
A hostile, divisive, destructive loser
Of questionable repute;

A reckless, alarming imperialist;
A churlish, cult-leading fool;
An arrogant, irresponsible felon
Who is unfit to rule;

A smug, incompetent, bad-tempered ****;
The world's strongmen's pawn;
A lawless, deplorable, outrageous clown.
The list goes on and on!

-by Bob B (2-6-25)

— The End —