In time,
I travel, Back & forth between places, New flavors, Never tasteless. Erase this. Memory of the multiplicity. Multidimensional, Universe we live in, Exists, I'm sure. Cause I've been there before. To the past, I unravel, The future for you in front of you. There's so much to do. But only one me, Consciously, Existing, In my own mind. And back again, To another, New time. |
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My dad said I should’ve taken a creative writing class instead of the journalism classes that I did. I disagree. Those would’ve been a nice supplement. Instead, my creativity is here now. Journalism was all just he said she said hearsay. Creative writing is freedom. You can say what you want, how you want to say it.
Well don’t edit me. Please. I probably need it, but I’m not seeking your subjective point of view at the moment. I just want to free flow like the ocean. Conscious undecided decisions. Offshore tax havens, That’s what’s on my mind. This ain’t a blog. Or poetry. It’s what’s on my mind. Susana Martinez, is misrepresented in an artificial exact stone carving kind of way. Martin Heinrich, Steve Pearce, and Tom Udall as well. Lujan Grisham. She’s gone fishing. Somewhere up in the Pecos. I’m telling you. This ain’t a poem. Nor a blog. Just free thoughts. On the present way we’re living. Take it. Or leave it. I guess I’m more creative than I thought. But still 100% brainwashed. Military mindset. Is how they programmed me to be. Jessica Lynch. I said this before. Nasariyah. It isn’t a code. Or anything but reality. She was a distraction. From all of the death. This ain’t a poem. Or a blog. Just truth. For you to hear. We decimated those people. Like Erdogan does today. Obama and his drones. And the death and decay. It’s real. this ain’t a blog, or a poem. Just my thoughts on . . . reality. Those little kids. Didn’t have to die. They didn’t. It’s true. But you blasted them too. Just like the walking charbroiled man. The pancake in the sand. I’m not trying to rhyme. I’m doing the best I can. To tell it how it is, or was, or exactly what happened. Nomad tents. They called hajis. Desperate to kill. They trained us. To do just that. And continue. To do it again. Over and over. Boot camp, death grip, freelance gym. Not a poem. Or a blog. Just information, for you to consume. Eat it up. However you like. It’s just reality, in words I write. You shouldn’t like it. I hope you don’t, but please, come back for more. Blending life with science fiction. Listen. Predictive analysis. Big data. Actual facts are relaxed. In a liberal atmosphere. Free from fear. Imagination. Creation. Flying free high above you earthlings. Swirling, and squirming in a constant state of chaos. I stay lost. Far from the insanity. In my own mind. I unwind. Rewind. And travel back to the past. To a place where I can relax.
Nothing but fluff and puffery,
Imaginary, Images imagined upon our imagery. Illusory, Deception, sabotage, and dark tales, Shale, Gas, oil, and pollution for the power, Every hour, After hour, More corruption permeates the air, Like injected poison into the earth’s veins. Strange, Earthquakes, floods, and mudslides, Hurricanes and natural disaster’s, As humanity cries, For something different, Listen, Some of them actually do, Positive attitude. Is the only way to approach this, But, I don’t want to exaggerate, There is still the hate. Racism and destruction, Lack of brain function, Nuclear waste and metal tastes, Death from all types. But the time is ripe. To tell the truth and be straightforward. No more opaque, hidden, dark secrets. Fine to be creative and show new views, But it must still be tied to some kind of truth. So I’ve had some synchronicities.
Coincidences. It might seem, Strange, Abstract. Aboriginal, Delusional. People. Fading in and out, Of, This show called life. Ex-wife. Ain’t stopping any of this strange, Motion picture, That’s in front of me. Flowing through, Like an amazing mixture. Of, Dreams. Metaphysical, Illusional, But, So realistic, Life, For all of us, Humans, To be observing. Like. Swerving, Creatures, From side to side. And differentiating, The difference between, The thing, That we get, For our, Reality, And free flight. Don’t know if there’s any answers, For this thing we see, Believe, They tell me. But I just experience, Life, And stay free. So that’s all I am, I swear that’s it, All I ever had, And wanted to be. A really strange, Synchronicity, That makes me, Way more than. Free... Poem inspired by Abstract Rude, Slug & Brother Ali, "The Solution" ATM fee being charged back to me, Like a negative tax, Usury, That pays out exact, A gigantic cash pay back. That’s what I’m talking about. A basic income, A financial foundation. For a cultural evolution. Of global solutions. No more earthquakes and flooding, No more brains turned to pudding. Just a positive track for all society, Humanity, Jumping forward on this path. We don’t even need to do the math. These machines can be our friends. If we let em, Vet em, However you want to, I’m gonna be responsible, People say how can we be stopping you? I say no! There’s now way. You can’t do it, Don’t even try. Don’t stray. I’m solving the problems, Even with these obstacles in my way. How these earthquakes make us sway. Not a game, We don’t play. This is serious. But I got the answers, If only you’ll listen. Come a little closer, No need to make more distance. End of sentence. We clarify all answers if you want them, Come together, No cause for factions, Fractions, And fictional hallucinations, We’re real people, Living real lives today. Come around, Let’s talk, Okay. BAM! Let’s make some solutions. Come together and stop the pollution. BAM! We’re the cause and the effect, Let’s do it. We’re the future, Don’t stop, Let’s do it, Together. We’re the solution. |
aboutPoetry Brain is a collection of poetry by the Distracted Masses. Categories
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