Tipsy

Tipsy we the people be,
Alcoholic foamy heads,
Emotional our slavery,
When to feelings we are wed.

Colored revolutions are
Numbers painted, readymades,
Breaking windows, burning cars,
Freedoms they assign to slaves.

Hands up

As a statue in a trance,
Snap a shot of self surrender.
Part your legs and raise your hands
As your privacy we render.

Silent as we run you through,
Underneath your underpants,
It’s the least that you can do,
Your only value’s tolerance.

Betas

Fighting fish see fins not bowls.
Second rate we’re treated as.
Split, perspicuous, controlled,
Crystal clear our Alcatraz.

Tipsy

Tipsy we the people be,
Alcoholic foamy heads,
Emotional our slavery,
When to feelings we are wed.

Colored revolutions are
Numbers painted, readymades,
Breaking windows, burning cars,
Freedoms they assign to slaves.

Theodore

Theodore you realized
Authority’s ingrown,
And naturally externalized
Within a godly home.

Cleverly you prejudiced
Obedience neurosis.
Sold it to the all of us,
Your apotheosis.

Licensed

When freed from God’s will,
We’re licensed to kill.
When freed from God’s Son,
We’re licensed to run,
Naked in space,
Around, or in place,
Lost with no head,
Freed, but still dead.

Bluecaps

Blue caps, freedom hounds,
Social justice bubbles,
Small scrubs making rounds,
Equalizing troubles.

Toxic pleasantries
Liberating vice,
Exponentially,
Virtue pays the price.

Inspired by – Alexander Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago, The Bluecaps, 1918-1956

“From the most ancient times justice has been a two-part concept: virtue triumphs, and vice is punished. We have been fortunate enough to live to a time when virtue, though it does not triumph, is nonetheless not always tormented by attack dogs. Beaten down, sickly, virtue has now been allowed to enter in all its tatters and sit in the corner, as long as it doesn’t raise its voice. However, no one dares say a word about vice. Yes, they did mock virtue, but there was no vice in that. Yes, so-and-so many millions did get mowed down-but no one was to blame for it. And if someone pipes up: “What about those who…” the answer comes from all sides, reproachfully and amicably at first: “What are you talking about, comrade! Why open old wounds”Then they go after you with an oaken club: “Shut up! Haven’t you had enough yet? You think you’ve been rehabilitated!”

“In keeping silent about evil, in burying it so deep within us that no sign of it appears on the surface, we are implanting it, and it will rise up a thousandfold in the future. When we neither punish nor reproach evildoers, we are not simply protecting their trivial old age, we are thereby ripping the foundations of justice from beneath new generations. It is for this reason, and not because of the “weakness of indoctrinational work,” that they are growing up “indifferent.” Young people are acquiring the conviction that foul deeds are never punished on earth, that they always bring prosperity. It is going to be uncomfortable, horrible, to live in such a country!”

Hump day hoax

Placed within the square,
Staging for selection,
The wounded resting there
Within the intersection.

Awkward there they lay,
Arresting our attention,
Hump day hoax midday,
Belief with its suspension.

Looped

Looped our links, a paper chain,
Strung together all the same,
Grouped, a bully with no name,

Silent bound our public speech,
Assenting to patrol, police,
Intimidate, report, impeach.

Brightly colored standing out,
Freedom chains around us shout.
Slavery’s our all about.

Touch the tree

Touch the tree your oughta be.
Trade God for idolatry.
Loosed from liberty you’re free,
Admitted to your slavery.