Tag Archive: AMERICA


American Girl

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don’t intend to continue
yes for her
them that sleep
the army
but
that I am here
run for the day
evening wake up
we do not faint
rough I’m not
the people here
ruled they were
I right at the back
the billion pic
whats going to happen
the media on it
who happy in this time

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All the things I’m afraid of writing in my diary
All the things I’ve been taught are wrong
All the things written in police reports
Cold hard facts of hatred
But my dreams contain these horrors
And I’m forbidden to write them
Forbidden to show them
Forbidden to say them
But they happen
Yet it’s not appropriate for the community
Reality is not good for the community
Only fairy tales
Can’t even say the words
The words women fear most
But we’re called them
They happen to us
But it’s inappropriate for the community
To express your feelings on them

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A Whore’s Freedom

red lipstick above her mustache
working for the man
a sardonic smile
I look above and around him
holding on to all the moments of brightness
morning air, church flowers, ducks in the lake
you cant take credit for my achievments
my strength is my own
a whore’s freedom

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Fucked up world with no escape

how are you supposed to see good in the future when you being an idealist see all the violence hatred perversion self righteous faults in yourself that you are trying to escape from and find truth peace harmony, what is the solution when you don’t fit in with becoming a brain dead conformist living in a little suburban house raising kids, growing old to die alone in a nursing home, your kids just becoming the same cycle breed bury breed bury repeat. until all humans have spawned to the point that they completely rape the earth of all its life, the world becoming nothing but a black mud pit of nothing, yes the cosmos is conscious of itself through us, and it wants self annihilation  apparently, is that the truth?

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the irony of houses being called cribs

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Americans are like babies in cribs,

whining crying demanding to be feed cleaned,

give me give me give me,

selfish immature, helpless infants.

tied died down, ignorant of their bondage.

the big hand comes and gives them their needs,

never yearning for independence, self reliance.

immature, give it to me or else, its not yours its mine.

but if you grow up you release your getting fucked every which way.

lied to, brainwashed,

history an illusion of perfection, no fault here.

the world is mine, wisdom is erased.

the big hand gives and takes away.

it keeps knowledge from us.

but if you attain knowledge you are more fucked,

cause you realize you are trapped.

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art means nothing.

everything is just fine and dandy,

there is no pain or suffering in the world,

so buy yourself an iphone and plug yourself into the system.

tune in and drop out.

art from pain is just another commodity at your local pop culture store.

buy it, its cool and trendy.

your life is perfect,

you can buy what others have.

and if you can’t… destroy them.

crush their soul, push them out,

they can make their art,

but you can kill them

and then sell it back to the kids.

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A Ball Of Confusion

Scared of the future , Scared of the now.

A twisting choking pain fills my stomach and climbs up my throat.

I have too much time and no time.

I’m alone, afraid.

I must work for money.

Money, an imaginary object, made to separate people from each other.

So I toil my life away for the benefit of those with the most imaginary objects.

Wasting my life breeding more slaves for the worthless toil.

Freedom is too scary a concept.

It means, no rules, no religion, no god.

Just me.

Treating others as myself.

It’s so simple that I can’t do it.

My mind complicates, my mind projects,

Till their is so much confusion, I forget the easiest way to be,

 Is to love all and forget myself.

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Growing up in America

Fuck it,

Sell your toys,

Save your money,

Get a new car,

Conform,

buy a Ford Focus.

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changed destroyed grown up mature forgotten hurt unwanted christmas spoil those who are wanted hate those unsuccessful fitting out crush their spirit destroy them be happy make fun of forget pity hate love is dead crush destroy demolish love kids hate siblings ignore and forget the past you were never there with them you were never struggling you forgot how you got were you are slaves make them die it would be best for all kittens abandoned in the cold for clean carpets forget jesus get gifts for only those worthy hate hate hate them outcast them pressure them to conform society tells us what to do forget our past drink beer with those who beat you as children those who remember are immature those who hurt are insecure those who think are communists those who question are conspiracists shut up and do as I say now don’t think be numb be a machine feed the machine don’t make art that makes us remember our feelings our innermost doubts fears and painful past we left ourselves behind so you should sell out give up wash your brain with bleach and fill it with tv you’re not good enough or worthy of us until you do fuck you we hate you hide your weird you are not an artist you are stupid you can do nothing in life that is good be a slave to the machine be successful

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The Land of The Bullies

Silenced.

That’s how freaks should be.

Silent.

Living in their own private world.

Thoughts torchering them.

Desire for a better world crushed.

Let the biggest bully win.

They always do.

The land of the free.

The ultimate hypocrisy.

The land of the bullies.

Hurt. Ideas crushed.

Freaks get killed.

Normal is having no morals.

The good guys get a bullet in the head.

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