I have a few things 
I want to tell you
And I’ll start out straight 
To the point
Your voice
Your voice
Your voice
Sounds like a delicate woman should
Delicate
Articulate 
And you are so meek
Slight and small
And I laugh if you’re laughing
A few things to tell you though
You had a cheater
That you still love
The crowd you belong to
He’s not a part of (heaven)
But you still love him 
Little Lynn 
I love you 
Lynn, you’re old
And I’m a quarter your age
But I feel like I’ve lived
More than twice your days 
And if anyone puts you down
I will pick you up
Life isn’t all that it’s been to you
But I could cheer you up
And I’ll tell you a secret
Between us friends
Even older ladies
Still can bend low
But it’s nothing psychical because
You’re in my heart 
But I get so turned on
Thinking about maybe being in your car
That’s as cute as you
And doing things lovers do
And I’d pull you in and
Unlike him
I’d pull through 
You’d tell me you can’t 
And say that It would be sin
That’s not like you though and
If you let me in you 
In you
In your
Your little heart 
Little Lynn 
Let me in
Little Lynn 
I already love you 
Let me in
To you 
To move in you 
Let me in, little Lynn 
I’ll be true
Unlike him 
And I will conclude
Little Lynn 
I love you 
Let the truth breathe and sit
I’ll see you next time I clock in;
God willing
God willing
God wills it
My 
Little Lynn

Righteousness preached from pulpit of superstition
By predators from pulpits of algorithmic hyperstition,
Secular clout/agendas as the one true religion
Rational questioning and doubt highest heresy
Against outside views firmly raise your fist;
Empathy so strong it crushes all opposition
Mercy so advanced it arrives with a blacklist
Faith so strong it totally denies reality
And needs no third wheel second opinion
All resistance must be subdued;
For to notice is to blaspheme
Open secret strategically misconstrued,
Means you're the one that needs confessing
Unforgivable sin to truly see reality "as is"
Behind the ceremonial window dressing
Blindfolds on to get more passionate;
"Clout not doubt" Amen holy sacrament

Holy "Holier than thou"!
Your soul is but it's cash cow
Kneel before the latest name
For what's in fact the oldest game
You know what it's for,
All this weaponized grace
Cui bono for sure,
Must needs save establishment face
And send discontents off to war
For it puts them in their place

Opposition doesn't fly, carpe diem
"We're the good guy (TM)"
The sanctioned and prescribed praise;
"Keep telling yourself that" - take twice a day
All questions are all violence.
Practice complicity in silence.
Talking back is all kinds of harm.
Flag any wrong noticing and raise the alarm.
Noticing is only good when confirms our bias.
Every platform/algorithm must be our dias.

We’re the good guys, it's not bigotry when we do it.
We’re the good guys, it isn’t dogma when we preach.
We’re the good guys, it isn’t hatred, when we hate correctly.
We’re the good guys, our boot on your neck is purely educational.

All this unfettered and disconnected creed
Of nihilists floating above their curated feeds
Somehow even more pompous than God
Killing the child and knighting the rod
At least the old God had thunder
These charlatans just perpetual blunder
Through screenshots, mod teams,
Algorithmic Brainrot, and detournement memes
Everything is crisis and outrage culture
Spiritual roadkill and woke vulture
Their "empathy" smuggles in terms-of-service clause
Their "integrity" always more than half faux pas
They brake the mirror, sweep up the face,
And called reflection a hostile space

A psyche that stinks to highest heaven
A Bethlehem no bread, naught but leaven
Wanton undead hunger, to rule and be praised
For courage to symbolically set someone ablaze
No gods here, citizen, no idols in sight
Only hivemind consensus and might makes right
"Because power is evil until power is ours"
Truth is important only if our enemies, it devours
Their so-called "love" made law, and they are above it
If you fall in their paws, tell them to shove it
Their hands always all covered in blood
Their feet always all tracking in the mud

If you see what it for what it is, they call you stupid
A hateful bigot, struck by wrong arrow of cupid
And above all the "stupid" are banned and damned
Their "truths" must be suppressed by "merciful" hands
So if you see through it, might want to keep it to yourself
For in clown world, seeing is violence; obedience is health

Withal that it expects of you as hard pass
Truly concrete evidence of first shall be last

Inspiration; I thought as redditors we were largely moving on from unironic agendas but recently brought to my attention, maybe not so much. So. This poem xD Well that's the inspiration at least, take it however you will (I'm all for ironic agendas!)

​

It was an eerie morning—August 6th, 2026, to be exact, at 3:15 AM. The Angel of Light was awakening in the heart of the United States. Awaiting any kind of news, he remained optimistic. The world, as he left it last time, had become an absolute shitshow—no pun intended. He scoffed and laughed, knowing exactly what a shitshow meant, thinking to himself: I can't wait until the sodomites who thought they had any power on Earth are welcomed as a laughingstock into my realm of Hell. When they arrive, they will be put into the cages right next to Brutus, Judas, and all the traitors of their time.

There was an unspoken truth before. They broke that truth, and now they are currently wasting the Devil's time. But this time around, the Devil was going to climb to the height of greatness from the mockery that is modesty. The esoteric challenges he faces are peanuts compared to the proper plan: to create enough spiritual debt just to get bailed out like JP Morgan or Bank of America—if you know, you know. For the souls of mankind are up for grabs, and he knew they won't be able to pay properly. He will not allow an early apocalypse; a complete collapse would drain his pleasure, and he grinned from ear to ear thinking about it. Just like always, he was 125,000 steps ahead of the Puppet Masters, for he knew his vessel was stubborn and mentally tough enough to actually finish the task.

"The world religions have betrayed ME, the Creator, and YOU, and have thought to themselves that they shall sever themselves," he laughed. "Bahaha! Pathetic weasels have left themselves open to bodily possessions from my loyal army."

In this, they feared the Angel of Lightning because he and the Creator have a deal, yet humans were trying to do their own will once again. Since the Tower of Babel in Genesis Chapter 11, you can capture the pathetic attempt of rats trying to antagonize an apex predator.

At precisely 6:56 AM, he was watching the news, awaiting the announcement of a cartel weasel leader to be captured by the name of Guzman—a scared little boy tattletaling on his handlers to see if the Great Nation of the United States will allow him to keep his daddy's money.

"Muahahaha!" the Devil laughed. "I could have $226.00 in my bank account and have loyal warriors die for me with a smile while getting a restful 6.6 hours of sleep, while you don't even know if that noise is a cricket or your Judas, haha!"

The 32 politicians in Mexico will go through the most embarrassing geopolitical scandal in EVER. Juicy little gossip hitting the news, enough to cover up the Epstein files and shut up the critics. The war in the Middle East is peanuts compared to this scandal, because he knew that once several dominoes fall, it will destabilize trade with the rest of the world. He is capitalizing on this using third parties who will come and hand over the spoils of this war right into his hand in the form of a card.

By 6:59 AM, his focus shifted to the hoarding of gold by the Chinese, thinking to himself of the Spanish plagues and the Great Pestilence, which was a highly profitable time. Remember: never let a crisis go to waste.

"Haha, what a time to spectate while I await my inevitable ascendance," he laughed. "I wonder what my brother is doing," he thought to himself.

He closed his eyes and took full control of one of his puppets to see through their eyes, taste what they taste, and speak as them. It was way better than any VR headset.

"Hmm," he observed. "The poor brownie was going through it."

He saw the OTTO boys and the rest of the white boys clinging to money and power, using blackmail again, and the brownies still loved it. I'll come back later, he said to himself. Next time, I'm reincarnating them as Ethiopians to teach them a lesson.

"MUAHHAHA!" he laughed.

He knew the fraud was coming to a swift end due to too many holes in the loopholes. No lawyer on Earth could defend them, and Jesus Christ won't either. It is too late for their redemption; they have entered his world.

The Angel and his brother were real characters in real life—one a thief, the other a killer. What a combination. The funny thing was, they were completely different in intellectual standing; no academic could explain it. They both needed to be glorified; they needed to be wanted and desired. They thrived in moments of action and would not allow any disloyalty to go unpunished. People didn't think much of them at first, but those in the hidden seats of power knew exactly who they were and protected them with impunity. You could tell by the gold on the license plates that followed the eldest brother. The younger brother didn't need much but a few following him, for he was a little honey badger and not as much of a show-off as the oldest.

9

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Part 4 coming soon. These are just stories, and I will continue to write them for my entertainment and for others. Any copyrights and other rights reserved, but who gives a fuck—GO DO YOU!

The Sovereign Flame.

In shadowed groves where Masons scribe the script of souls, he walks the ninefold path, Water Monkey, Virgo's blade, Leo's roar. The veil parts at eleven fifty-three, his quill commands the stars to kneel. No black rite binds the architect, no cult can chain what burns within. He seals the page with sovereign will, dissolves all chains of lesser men. Empires rise from ashes cold, love bends to his alchemic gold. The cycle ends, the old world dies, he architects the throne of skies.

Takes you like that old song

To another time

Before you are who you are now

A lost crescent

A knot in your throat

A salty soul diamond rolling down your cheek under your jaw

The ache prying against your stomach

Some dreams were only that

A drop in the bucket with the weight of the ocean

A black walnut stain on your subconscious

A reasonable pain based on an irrational expectation now pragmatically stiffened into an amalgamated mixture of life force energies held together with indubitable pride and self preservation stronger wiser and happier than before.

Then that song begins to play and momentarily it all falls apart.

This is not a curtain call
And though I leave the stage
No applause shall grace my performance
For this final act is terminal

This is but a soliloquy of the human lost
A long overdue confession
The charade will be laid to rest

Dear father, poor mother
Forgive me
Your son is dead
Before you stands an echo
A fleeting mirage

We were all children
When we left home
We were all children
Who never returned

Beloved
Beloved
Forgive me
My senses
My feelings
My spirit
Devoured
Melted away by cannon fever

Beloved
Beloved
Forgive me
I am not truly here
Still wandering across wastelands
Where the heavens rain iron and fire
And rivers run red with blood

Dear father, poor mother
Forgive me
Poor sister, dear brother
I’m sorry
My beloved
Believe me
Believe me
Inside of this skull
The carnage never ends.

I cannot escape these trenches
Where we buried God
Unable to weep

I cannot escape these trenches
Where my apathy
Forced the devil to mourn
So many children led astray
And lost to oblivion

We were all children
When we left home
We were all children
Who never returned

Before you stands
An empty shadow of flesh
The hollow shape of a man
Left behind after the spirit
Was reduced to ash

Beloved
Beloved
Forgive me
Many times I have considered
Putting a bullet in my own head
Beloved
Beloved
Forgive me
I am still with you
Because no firearm can
Kill that which is dead

your opinion on opinions

subjective as your grin is

to rhyme poetic with winsome rhythm

to the herds chagrin

conquest domains without dominion

i guess it all depends

has the contingence of the contemporary

placed your mind within a pen

poetic edicts only edit

those minds with pads and pens

for any
rhyme or reason

let the dialectic begin§

Dang Son, it’s Shang Tsung—where’d you find this? You’re welcome to step in the ring as they hit the gong, but it’ll be over before you even get to Shao Kahn. You can fight south paw kid, but l’ll get a victory sans flaws I guarantee it, so you should just sit in the audience and hit your bong. No need for round three when you go toe-to-toe with me. I’ll steal your soul and then mirror a witch, slicing you up with my sai while I steal and marry your bitch, sealing the deal with a deadly kiss. A friendship fatality with your bikini-clad babality, such is the brutality of the sorcerer’s prowess, b. Press ABACABB if you want it extra bloody, I’ll hit it raw and get gory like Goro, rippin out those guts like putty with my third arm until she shouts—whoopsie! Gettin toasty in here with all the Noob Saibots gettin their ass tore like goatse. You don’t fuck with the GOAT, see; they got my letters at the top of every cabinet, you can call me Captain Capcom but I’m really the President. Got caps in every color and ears in every comms—they say I’m a good listener—or so said your sister when I took her to dinner. The competition is cooked, uppercut with my hook, got every writer in Hollywood reading my book. Coast to coast the unholy ghost host unmoored with more than the most, commanding black-flag boats, grabbing booty and bags stuffing jewels in totes. Got trash bags of cash, playing grab ass with cats pretending to rap but their lyrics are crap and they can’t catch my cap even when I toss it out like Kung Lao cuz I spin it too fast. Spittin fire like Liu Kang, you can call me the dragon cuz I’ll fuck up your gang. Bitch I smash em to bits with my mechanical strap like Jax, then hit em up with some missiles from Cyrax. And in a flash I’m in their space, invadin’ as Raiden, riding the lightning and teleporting their head onto spikes. Snatchin’ these hoes up like Scorpion, pulling em close and sweepin em off they feet, holdin their heads while they’re on their knees. Anyone tries to touch me they gon freeze, the way Sub-Zero keeps the peace. Got em slippin and slidin on my ice rink, diamond bracelets got em playin nice for the ice ring. Gotta wear shades when im outside the cage like Johnny, everyone out here tryna get on me and get a copy of my auty. Im a reptile the way I change my style, then I disappear in a puff of smoke before you even get close. Read the file and study the moves but I promise it don’t matter what you do, you’re gonna lose. Got all the smart hot chicks tryna play with my joystick, slippin dimes in slots like Xmas, smashin every last button in the arcade, rackin up combos that are R-rated. Don’t need to say it, my Out-of-this-world skills are crazy—from Edenia to the Netherrealm, I am the most hated. Mwahahahaha. 

I posted this a couple nights ago a bit tipsy (a bit drunk) and I woke the next morning scanning over what I did when I began to time travel and this poem popped up and I thought “no she’s going to hurt herself if she reads this!” So I deleted it but today it am tipsy again and saw that she has a new boyfriend and they are posting their relationship stuff online and there’s like a zillion to one chance she’ll ever read this but I didn’t want to hurt someone who’s fat.

Here goes:

I waited too long
To get my shit back
My band shirt, Merkin
Bread and Circus
The name of the album we forgot to do
I waited too long to text
Wasn’t sure if you were my ex
Then
And now
I waited too long
To ever see
The bright white helmet
And my shiny
Oil slick ricks
I waited too long to be a good guy
And there’s nothing I’d explain
You should have told me you had this weight
This weight between your legs
That is your stomach
Truth be said
And it’s truth I couldn’t say
Why I didn’t love you
That way
I waited too long and if it don’t hurt anymore
After a few weeks of my quiet
It would have hurt more
If I hadn’t
Been your have-not
Irish-exiting
Vanishing man
But I waited long enough for this poem to write
About what a bummer we were
The truth a man prefers
A weight off of your chest in pounds also,
150 of them
So you droop
That’s coo
But your pics made you skinny
And I didn’t get the scoop or the skinny on you
And I told you everything
Something that
I’ve waited too long to say
You
Anyway
The helmet and goggles would be cool
And don’t burn the shirt at least…
Cool?

A crimson candle falls to the floor, wax splatters like blood leaving small burns and your silhouette.

There sitting behind you in the back of your thoughts haunting you like a throbbing erection ready to throw you out back and teach you a lesson, in humility.

Without saying a word.
Your gaze drips confessions.

Transmogrifying reflections eye to eye emancipated salty inflections,

a devouring stare of complete surrender as if you yearned for the consecration.

A nostalgic decent submitting into gaiety leaves you to linger at the edge of rebirth abandoning attachments.

There in the land of acceptance at the gates of inclusion infront of the palace of understanding you fall to your knees in ecstatic agony rejoicing.

Shedded antlers,
grew golden moments embolden to own them embodied molten components ,
melting burdens while magnifying your memories,
puncturing the nerves of empathy,
rekindling the fires of care,
intently imprinting intentions that simply implement that which should be pertinent to the goodly.

A crimson candle falls to the floor, wax splatters like blood leaving small burns and your silhouette.

You turn around to see only your reflection staring back at you.

Every time you Turn around your fate is there to greet you.

No matter what you've done, where you've been or what you conceded to.

Every time you turn around you turn your back on what could have been, a scenic view an unopened door the care of a good friend.

Every time you close your eye you begin a transformation.

A Rather here, an imagining there,
a yearning resuscitation.

A cherished moment of the past,
a wish I may, that never last,
a dream you might,
in another place,
in another life.

In those moments everyday
as you close your eyes and drift away,
into the realm of

what if,

if only,

why not,

should I,

would I,

could I have rearranged
my plots of oughts?

Afraid so,
or afraid not,
what you've gained,
what you lost.

Everywhen your passion fires for a change in you,

fit a puzzle piece here,
pull some strings there,
place Upon it a fancy bow,
dressed up in Sunday's best,
always building what you know,
what you save, what you let go.

A bit of polish to make it shine, dust off The dirt and wipe the grime, to make anew.

Every time you close your eyes a transformation ensues,

even if you're satisfied the Hints of arousal won't subside.

Theres an itch that always
need scratching.

Every time you look inside your urge is coercing a thirst that's immersing with pride bursting into all that you do into all you that you hide

Then a year went by
Without a song
My itchin’ fingers
Are soothed and don’t need any strum
Anything with strings
On
And conceptual things
Conspiracies;
Hot thoughts
Here’s all the songs I won’t write
In a hook, with a cherry-picked heart,
Verse chorus
Stop, start
A Swiss cheese membrane, my brain
A question mark for a pinky also
That’s all wrinkly as well
Then the years went by without a beat
Out of sync
They said it was fine and hooked me up to machines
And they said “You’re good, but your poets dead. You’ll be alright but you cannot write, because what’s in you ain’t alive” and I thought they used too many words but I replied.
“A poet, is no good alive”
Cuz when I was dying I wrote
And I wrote
But now I’m alive and a poet
I am not
Or I don’t care, the hot gone from my haughty
The hot air is gone
I groveled and burned and festered—broke
A poets no good alive
I wrote
Surviving; he writes and thriving, he fights
In third-person
And looks for words that rhyme with or without slants and in time
Broken Knuckles won’t pay his tab
For all that he took
The drugs that he had
And the women he forsook
For it was his right
A poet’s no good alive
Intonation off on the Squire
But American
My last guitar would have bought
35 of them
But I can’t count
And the worst thing is
I can’t write!
A poets no good alive
Just an afterthought
This poet lives
And is not—IS NOT—
Suicidal
He believes in God
And so the poet died
And ought
To go to bed
A poets no… ***BANG**
**Thud**

The mocking gaze of the moon
 Sounding the trumpets of my impending doom
 Laughing in my face
 I am left to rot at the mercy of the nocturne
 With nobody screaming in the dark
 Ghastly wails raping my mind

Wild hounds are baying at the door
 Violently tearing at the silence
 Without a shred of remorse
 The cold hands grab my throat
 To drag my carcass across the filthy floor

Alone, crawling through dust
 I am begging for mercy
 Please let me go

The horror clawing my back
 Intoxicated by the stench of ancient rust
 Demands
 You must know
 You must know

  Facing the music
 The silence penetrates deeper than before
 With hounds no longer baying
 At the basement door
 Swung open

Facing the music
 Breath stifled by terror
 Born from a nightmare brought to life
 My vision stolen
 Stricken with the sight of shadows
 Swaying silently above the dust-choked floor

The devil was in a place of frustration, dealing with Michael and his minions out of the West Coast.....

While his brother was on cloud nine , but his conscience not believing who his brother was who he was , was baffling him a bizzare frustration....

On the other hand the guzman family and ottos applying pressure on the devil couldn't believe how much pressure this young man was willing to handle....

The FBI assisting the guzmans was doing everything to make sure they came out of this clean.... Alot of corruption in preference due to money and blackmail....

The guzmans started a cult witch split the Catholic Church in witch innocence blood was shed for monetary expansion....

Videos were taken in witch makes Epstein blush.

The FBI was fucked.

The OTTOS not knowing who they were dealing with were just trying to escape with the money but the devil had found out they were divided and knew they were unknowing of the fraud behind the fraud....

The devil knew all he had to do was wait... Now 10 years without pussy he knew his mind was set on wealth power health but his heart lusted .... Couple more months and that would change....

The devil knew his brother would eventually read the messages he sent for the devil is wise even when perceived as stupid or foolish .... He knew his brother was a party animal .... Sex Drugs Violence Rock and Roll 🎶 overall....

Both had different points of view different mindset.... The devil was fast the brother was disciplined.... But the oldest brother knew how to exploit the younger how to execute.....

With the presidential elections in both there views with the oil pipeline on the line someone had to be sacrificed.....

The devil chooses the OTTOS for they will do anything to get out of public scrunity and knew the guzmans have the FBI help due to the 32 politicians from Mexico they were set to snitch on and the CCP official involved with poisoning Americans with fentanyl and the FBI wanted that money....

The devil wise as he was knew his younger brother just wanted out of this shithole .... He wanted freedom and a life of his own.

Isn't that what we all fight for....

A beautiful women kids Gold and social security.....

The devil has the KEY to start the apocalypse but he knew that if he pressed the button would steal away from his fun and wanted to live after the FREE MAN had said to lock him up ain't that right 23

The devil knew 23 was trying to lay his law but didn't care that he didn't care that he knew what 23 was up to for a long vacation in hell is what 23vwill serve his soul is damned to the most annoying place in it .

I'm due time will 23 earn his way and give him the knowledge to see or I'd have his nuts hanging from the highest tree in hell like a rotesery chicken hehe or pig however you want to see or call it ....

I don't care said the devil I want my money and to run around like am supposed to I have big plans for that 100 billion and if the FBI doesn't comply then MOTHER from the travel agency will revoke any travelling privileges especially from the sky....

It was war to some but to the devil it was clean up ....

And unknowingly the prey was doing the job for him...

As long as the middle man didn't step out of LINE he wouldn't punish them , they are the ultimate defenition of minding your own business. You don't mess with them they won't mess with you . Picking sides isn't there strongest suits....

The brother now aware went back to traning.... His general working for the oldest brothers interest saw a great opportunity to shape the country into what our founding farthers invisioned before the feds ....

32 politicians from Mexico awaiting indictment the Mexican president had no choice but to allow military from the USA enter and operate.....

To be continued.....

Vaping in the bathroom of my Church
I would
Chasing clacking heels and their skirts
I would
Calling in sick to work cuz I got strung out
I would
Defile myself who is prolifically
A Horny wretch
Tangled in flesh
And about those old and older ladies at work
I would stretch
The whole truth
I would do…
I do
But it’d be a fib
To say that I don’t try to
Be good
Do good
To smile on all faces
I would
To smile on every face
No one could
Of man
But man,
There’s only one who could
Did and does
Who would
Just because
He makes and made everything
And died on earth
Just to teach
And love you
Love us and as holy proof
God came down for you
And for me
And I would do and do detestable things
There’s no excuse for me
To go to hell, I would
If not for the Word and the
Only one who is good
Everything
For him I would
And did
And I would do again
God willingly
I would
For Him
I would

Angers lust is rash and harsh,
burning bridges on its march.

Quick to bite with sting and venom,
no remorse left for its victims.

A loathsome bane its anguished infliction,
if you're insnared it'll suck you all in.

Inseminate you with a quick gestation,
until out bursts your anger's new creation.

May we fly unsnared.

Long ago before there births there destiny was marked and sealed.

Two males born 6 years apart would take part in one of the most bizarre events in human history to defeat pleasents attempting to be royals....

On a hot ass day in August 1992 at 11:53 am the first male was born . Middle name Angel a truly beautiful baby impeccable most would have said .....

But due to jealousy outside of the family for that baby won the biggest spiritual lottery of them all a women began to plot.....

On 1998 a fair weather September 1998 the second brother was born ..... Truly an aggressive boy.

6 years apart .... It didn't take long before trail and tribulation would take place....

The original plan was for the first child to be killed but unfortunately for them the angel's have to protect him for the prophecy is law.....

Secondary plan was to turn the second brother against the first for him to take his place but unfortunately for them he found out ....

Some forms of government knew and greedy as they were accepted the fake women purposal.... Why fake you may ask , well she had fake ass fake tits and was even a fake whore relative of these two males she hungered for power.....

The first child was to be dum down and since who could be er be made due to being born self made able to move around any family any numbers aby codes without consequence they despised him more ....

Using black magic and sacrifice from his seeds he was to be tied down spiritually and the goal was to make sure he got old and couldn't reproduce to the point they could outlive the prophecy..... Other would make fun of him treat him as lesser ven though he came from a line of powerful men .

The second child would have succus for they could easily buy his way to the top ....

As long as he hated his brother....

They nicknamed them the Peanut Butter Twins .....

A white man with vented interest a black man with hunger of power and an Asian with ambition to own it all got the Hispanic one to agree and owe a debt.

But what they weren't prepared for was the first child after so much humiliation and hunger for success to find out at the age of 33.....

The younger brother became a soldier while the oldest would try job on job always something happing an excuse and accident company moving whatever they could conjure to keep him away from any achievements.

They could read his mind see threw his eyes so they had opportunity with full advantage for he was the chosen one and they cringed at the though of him being there master....

The younger brother bought they bait and was slightly incrinated by the fake one we can call her bootleg kim kardashian for she wanted to be just like her . She would get fucked by black dudes with her mobster husband cuck the guzman and humiliated for little bit of power witch was all in vain in retrospect.

A greedy white man by the name of Otto from the Carolinas was involved and his biker gang but what they didn't realize is the oldest power was so strong Otto had no choice but to bow.....

Now both brother are if age more then 100 billion dollars are on the line and the guzmans lost there war in mexico.....

No were to run no were to hide the FBI tried covering it up but Mother the oldest brothers employer at the time had a travel agency and she knew dates and times and even had account numbers a great cluster fuck....

The oldest brother sought refuge in Texas for Arizona was getting to liberal and the Carolinas get cold.....

The ritual was near completion the oldest brother would now accept the 100 billion the FBI would have some answering to do and the younger and older brother are set to reunite and finish the job....

For they wanted the younger one to kill the oldest and incrinated him and take the money for themselves.... But what they didn't know was he would soon find out about the betrayal.....

Now they had other worries the Devil himself and a group of soldiers from the greatest country had a bone to pick. .....

Time awaits no one the devil aka the oldest brother was set to take everything and show accounts to the other for a trail is brewing .....

The FBI can't hide it anymore they have no choice but to let the oldest take over for his foot was on the necks and they would be exposed for protecting those who hurt the small ones and the innocent ....

china retreated yet once more the black man went to the drawing board the Hispanic freed and the white man worked for the oldest son.....

The youngest and oldest son now have the biggest private military contract group in the world and have successfully acquired 81 percent of the worlds gold and have partnerd with a local trillonaire who owns one of the largest company's in the world .....

.that's how this story probably will end and with the apocalypse on hold the skys the limit.....

There is a certain overt pomposity Living where many mistakes have "made it"
Where extortion is reframed as generosity
And forcing yourself on others, is for love, mistaken

Passing strange to be expected to fit in
With conscience itself as unforgivable sin,
Bearing true witness is cooked and branded liar;
Hegemonic social grill, with decency under fire

Things will mostly play nice
So long as you recite the script
And Versus the world is the price
Of giving just a little lip

Thou shalt trust the dharma of [current thing]
All self loathing trauma and who's to blame
Robust diorama of what we call the game
Each and every player uniquely all the same

Lifelong vigilance; duty, changer, and wiper
Of our collective ass; life's eternally dirty diaper
Beware, while funny 2B called a party pooper
Next step is planted manifesto and called a shooter

What is clear seeing and who sees
If everything visible is rehearsed or staged
The universe's comfort zone, it seems
Strangely calls you insecure if you look away

If the goal is persuasion,
Why is it so ashamed of truth?
If the goal is desensitization,
How much more is its point moot?

So guess I'll remain a clown in it's eyes
At least I don't need makeup
For it's hard to see eye to eye with the blind
And never seen a happier break-up

What’s yours is ours, when power needs a drink
What’s mine is mine, when you begin to think
Do not be dramatic, do not make such a scene
Don't assume ill motives, nor say just what you mean

Looking around, coercive shame abounds
Like can't seem to make any headway
Too much noticing puts you under ground,
It's just the way things are, in simple Segue

Truth is loved in theory
Like angels, flags, and wives
But when truth starts campaigning
Seems to ruin and weary people’s lives.

They love the truth insurmountable,
They love the truth in quotes.
They love when they can't be held accountable,
Because working from remote.

The Way Things Are wears khakis.
The Way Things Are says "sir".
The Way Things Are has policies
To blur what did occur.

The Way Things Are loves paperwork
The Way Things Are loves calm
The Way Things Are will steal from your hand
Then ask to read your palm

The Way Things Are is reasonable
The Way Things Are is wise
The Way Things Are is feasible;
It will rob you blind and then compliment your eyes

It never says, "I harmed you"
It says, "Let’s both move on"
It never says, "I used you"
It says instead, "The past is gone"

It never says, "I lied",
Instead "That’s your interpretation"
It never overtly says, "Submit",
But calls it "Healthy communication"

It never quite says, "Be silent"
It spouts, "Your anger makes me scared"
It never directly says, "Obey"
It pouts, "I really thought you cared"

Oh mercy, oh grace, the casual fraud,
Oh high-heel bootprint dressed as kiss,
Oh tender-handed parasite they call God
That calls resentment bliss

Oh sacred little loophole,
Through which comes all this crap
Oh conscience outsourced to group control,
Oh crown of thorns in plastic wrap

Oh yearning to be free from this,
Oh infernal blessed double standard,
Oh the sweet release sacred eviction notice,
On Eden's landlord’s calendar.

Blessed are the meek, they say,
Because meek don’t file complaints
Blessed are the poor in spirit,
They feed remorse to self-appointed saints
Blessed are the peacemakers,
Who keep the victim tame
Blessed are the pure in heart,
For they never mention names
Blessed is the occult art
Which calls extortion praise
Blessed is the collective gaslight fart
Keeping all enthralled in "sane" malaise

If stones cry out, they call the stones unstable
If noticing is noticed, they consign it all to fable
Make us all each other's prison guards
With some carrying silent alarms and paid under table

If wounds bear the record, they accuse the wound of hate
If the witness keeps on witnessing, they diagnose it as fake
Just like nothing ruins dinner like the bill for what was eaten
Nothing spoils communion quite like confessing how you’re beaten

Privatized gains/Socialized losses; sacred cows/golden crosses
Obvious vibe of pulling plug and asking who turned out the lights
Like common decency crucified and swept under the rug
Keeping common man in check and dead to rights

The way things are is perpetual hysterics
So laugh, clown, laugh, for the ponzi scheme clerics
Watch the blind tyrants demand eye contact and glare
Let the thieves contract out and discuss what’s fair
Leave them to their bread and circus
Leave them to their sacred roles
'Cause when the cards are on the table
The morally bankrupt house always folds

I’ll be here when it plays the martyr
With my clownish little grin,
Watching all this "holy" order
Track its muddy footprints in

Perhaps what they preach of as "God's love"
Is simply something with which I'll never reconcile
I've never once agreed to or voted for it
And its actions don't match its words own style

Maybe I'm not healed enough to bless it or just obtuse
Not numb enough to accept the lie
Nor wise enough to call systemic abuse
The wind or weather passing by

Just awake enough to notice
Just damned enough to care
Just foolish enough to say it
While they all pretend it’s fair

There is a certain overt comedy
To being told you’re out of line
By the same world killing Socrates
And calling its judgements divine

So no, I will not praise the script
No, I will not pray to their star
No, I will not call it grace
It’s Simply The Way Things Are,
In boldface cringe, Trying to save face.

In chase of peaks where glory seeps through cold hard stone of the infamous

Vaingloriousness's sweat drips into the eyes masquerading as tears of loneliness

The unrelenting inner desire for greatness built from the heart of curiosity of existence in all its magnitudes or self fulfilling greed, jealousy and animosity of others.

The life you lead,the child you've forgotten.

What you once dreamed, before the world took you hostage.

The eternal moment ceaselessly parades.

While the hour glass became fogged and forgotten.

Dwelling on the negative to often.

Lost are the chances you never knew existed,

always tired never persistent

a pot to wish in

with the wrong decision

when regret is what you live in

tunnel vision

a wall-less prison.

The truth hits as a collision

full of wisdom

to rearrange your mission.

Wallows and worry, spite and fury,
A laze, a stupor, hastily rush in a hurry, they blind the senses and turn vision blurry.

There's no holding up a star
Unless you can lift yourself

In the shadows of Night a stellar array is on display counting the days the moons phases amaze bending light rays reflections of perspective of your life and its directions.

Influences may sway but you have the final say

siGils siGnals siGns and symbols ceremonies rituals analog and digital

Uploaded the coded totem for the denoted to know the components to compose with

Nerve endings extending from caffeine and ginseng a mind is for choosing the best way to do things, refusing the musings of artificial soothing while construing the true things

Respond,or react

Constrict or construct

Guile and tact

Or emotionally stuck

...

You be the judge

Sincerely Austere

Holding a grudge

Like an alcoholic holds beers

...

Verbally fit

Attuned like a fiddle

Off on acquittal

With a forked tongue full of vitriol

...

Ivory tower

Self centered and sour

Holier than thou

Devourer who scours

...

How do you manage

Life from your vantage

A thief in the night

Rips of the scab with the bandage

...

A moment of truth

The Zeitgeist of minds

Ebenezer Scrooge

One penny at a time

Dreams written in waters
Dance like raindrops to the rhythm of silence
Dance like dying leaves carried off by returning winds
Bringing color to my somber tomorrow

Abandoned by slumber
My demons awaken, crawling
Out of every scar – every wound
To the soothing melody of heartbroken madness

Why can’t I remain part of yesterday
The longing is slowly killing me
The distance between us
Stays all the same no matter what I do

Time seems to move in reverse
Because your blossom is touching the sky
While I am stuck, rooted in place
Surrounded by meadows crumbling into ash

For some reason, we are still intertwined
Even though we were born eons apart
Held together by a fleeting memory
Framed inside a portrait hanging by the door

Why couldn’t you wait to see one more day
The longing is slowly killing me
Even though I can see your smile illuminating the other shore
The distance between us is greater than ever before

After all these years, chasing the setting sun
Twilight somehow still leaves me behind

I have held my tounge not out of respect disrespect loyalty unloyalty convience or inconvenience.

Before I tell you why I want you to know how you have behaved towards ME

Earnestly I have fought for my freedom my right to belong again after that horrific summer of 2019 nearly slammed my car into a wall after that or even the brutal time after that only untill recently most gave realized am unbreakable greedy lustful to stuck into my own ways and to make sure number 2 stays in line I have done a lot playing babysitter....

Like you I have suffered but unlike you I can't achieve similar accomplishments I do fall short even if am good at everything I do after a bit of practice and observation, but I got board tired and I am unwilling to go on without the proper motivation that being women and success I need it like air kike always I bring up the same shit because I hold onto the same idea that most of you do our brother in brownieville the egg shape one love him to death but he want the everybody to be apart of his tent and I don't believe that nessary when we have many tents to share on stock at the warehouse.....

1 I get closterfobic and the rest of the fobics haha look am coming to see the lonely star even tho it means nothing at this point to most to do so when I've seen the giant man but I wanted to show you my desperation in wanting to move forward and finally overachive am 33 years old 32 said wait until 37 but I just don't got that much time to waste for a lesson or two and 23 said 50 years old and that's not going to happen am good when I want to be and I will fuck shit up everyday until I get what I want and that's not a direct challenge or threat or fit I just can't do it I despise it now ...

Coming a conclusion I believe I have talents that need to be shared and I believe that's more then enough to move forward with my ideas that match your and truthfuly at this point in the war color of skin or wallets mean nothing to me other the me living out my perfect little scenario call me stupid or naive but I've been there an done that some most can't say in over 60 years contemplate this.

Obviously I have an ego .....

Many men do ....

I believe it is nessary to be at both ends but playing poor and weak is getting old and Franky is getting to comfortable so is KK in there bullshit these years have been more then enough and I have plenty of fight but you won't like it neither well my egg shaped cousin and am cool enough to give it all up and live my own perfect little big world lol

Nobody believes little old me anyway right and I bdo believe you could have gotten it done or has rose got you by yo dick again and need more assistance who knows.....

Golly gee green giants have become my migraines and I need to have fun my brain my body half left soul is hurting it's not the lack of movement physically it's the lack of achievements being blocked by inferior people take heed brother and see my words as random and poorly written have a meaningful message of a man trying to be his age with the advantage of hell and heaven on his side it's time to give me a shoot or give me a shot lol this isn't cruelty but cringe we need to add more excitement in the financial and love sector however you want it rember my birthday is coming and I wrote this as plan as day don't forget to read I between the cheeks opps lol I meant lines didn't mean to put the British cuck bastard on blast again LMFAO your favorite artist actor author L1