Showing posts with label revolt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label revolt. Show all posts

Empire Crumble- Rise and Revolt


Taking tea
and precarious refreshments
in the man-made
soiled and sweating
sinkhole,
I squirm and
wriggled out
of the maliced mosh pits and
festering angry faces,
temper tantrums not being cute or helpful
with our own bloodied heads
being used as cement to build more
illness factories and stock market make-up schemes,
teetering towers for the grizzly heads of state.
Cemetery stones whispering
in humming harsh tones
about the rise of melancholy,
choked down,
gasping and gurgling slosh
with tasty teaspoons of
aspartame apathy.
Hierarchy demons propagating
counterfeited fornicating plastic masks,
fed forced and planted upon any
anarchy dandelion
who so much as dared to look
forward,
upward,
move in a direction
of equality and enlightenment.

We were cast out,
imprisoned,
scape goated,
cleverly whistle blown to
the depths of inferno layers
of the powerful fucked,
faked,
fantasy.
ha-
Im.
Not.
Buying.
Plastic credit
giving us selfish egoed fame,
dizzying delusional highs of
commercial catastrophe
and seeping drama addiction.
I spent my morning sick
to my bleeding stomach,
purging propaganda
and patronizing patriarchy,
giving then instead my
fierce and frightening
energies to revolt
in seas of pleasured nuances,
pure moaning breathing soft
on the neck ecstasy
with the simple act of awakening,
choosing to fight
psycho-pathetic doctrine,
a staggering wake up to
police state falsified forensics,
brutal tactics of paranoia
and serial brutality.

Gnashing our battered teeth
together in blazing brilliant protest
against sick greed and powerlust supremacy.
The time is ticking close
to the programed wires of the greenback filth machine,
thus the craving necessity to stand up,
no more bowed heads
in chemical injected reverence to the
sick hydra headed kings
with their sadistic twisted grins,
humiliation inflicted on the disenfranchised,
thus to aid the jacking off of suited men
in pristine golden armored bathrooms,
pentagrams and pentagons.
We shout loud and vicious,
screaming down walls thicker
than even Jericho could muster,
throwing down the privileged powerful
where they sleep and smirk at our
pain and agony.

Together we unshackle
our young and each other,
shaking the sleazy elite
from their frothing habits of
murder and cover-up covergirls,
rapes and muttering adrenaline fueled mass graves.
We turn our smiling roughed edged faces,
without fucking permission-
towards the sun,
into a new dawning age
of collective spirit and
freedom for all people.
Awake, we now must Rise.

Confessions of the Burning Phoenix


Angels in archways,
I ran my car down the
dirty ditch road and into your
peripheral vision,
bloody and bruised,
crawling towards the air and earth,
my hands dug in deep,
and freed myself from crunched metal,
warped screaming seatbelts,
tire track stains,
upside down falling to the gravel
as the headlights race by.

I don’t mind resting here
for a time,
seconds had strung me out
like new meds
mixed with liquor and crushed ice.
Watching you popping pills
was boring me and so I slept instead
and tried to forgive you for not
fucking me every night and morning.

Damn it,
things were swimming and going well,
and then that
cancer sickness spread and
left us lurching,
back and forward.
Through late nights
of hysteria and tantric consecutive visions of
death and sex,
as hours drifted over
our weary heads and
we felt we were losing it all.
The battle degrading us further
into silence.

And with that flooding
of trauma,
back into my bloodstream,
I began to awake,
once again,
in the middle of the night
with dreaming of past hauntings,
that man taking my little innocence,
over and over,
with lies and cruelties,
without asking first,
a violence so brutal
it left me numb for years following,
I cried and wanted to
bleach my brain for thinking
of that year I danced
with the devil
and he grinned and giggled
at my bloody suffering.
Id love to forget
all the acts of anger and aggression
that he played out
on my bare bones,
but the senses and memories
stay and like to linger
in the morning.

And so,
though the abuse still
faces me in the mirror,
from time to time,
I remain breathing
through the pain,
living love and better,
forgiving louder,
dancing and
performing my sexuality
with vibrant beats of my heart,
and stamping feet on the ground,
shouting,
I survived,
and Im still staggering forward.
Phoenix burning
and yearning a revolution
to its knees, at least,
looking and howling in the moonlight. 

I Am Unknown

The sorrow,
ever swimming,
takes me down to the corner,
digs me a hole
to drown in.
The cancer's ever-taking
what it wants,
doesn't worry about
the soul within that's
ready to shine at any instant.

And those lovely wrathful
Wall Street Prophets,
their voices,
our voices,
finally being stamped on the ground
in protest,
being heard.

Though it still seems
violence and inhumanity reign
in the places of power,
the money jar
being the cookie jar
for the Select Few
and the human rights violations
in the streets of our downtown cities
and in the prisons nearby
are small prices to pay
for a corporate fucking agenda?
May no crooked corporate monster
debase our art and infinite creative power
again. Amen.

There's such risk
in gypsy training,
queering and healing,
must keep looking to the light,
even though the dark is thrust
upon us,
so heavy.
Giving and sometimes
not even getting the
teacups and saucers back at parties
you throw.
take and taken.

My God,
have we all become
such sinister danger animals?
The shadow grew into a cold
monster overnight,
as I lay,
staring into ethers.

Wonderland repeats herself:
I take blame only for the madness
of the Hatter,
the rest is syrup,
darkness and orgasms.
The vampires whisper
in my ear again,
I follow them down
that ugly dank hole
in the concrete,
Daniel and his lions,
me and my serpents,
wanting to shine on you,
one last time,
before I leave here.

I want a kinder tortured soul,
no more brutal battery
to my characters,
now and then,
as of late,
and even back when I remember
times being better.
My intuition doomed me
because damn it,
I knew better with
moon slowly crashing to earth
and my eyes growing sad
with your half-lies.
Just wanted a bit of fun really
with insane gestures,
new sex positions,
and obscure references
to propaganda and the media
mouth hungry machine,
eating away at our senses,
teething on our bones.

Didn't you know?
We are made through
fire and ice,
a wicked angel's alchemy.

The desert night
is calling us back,
to the ground,
the slurring rain
drenching my skin,
covering my wounds,
making me feel holy,
just for one magic moment,
breathing in,
letting it out,
a road towards
final freedom.
Follow me?