armsxlikexblades

Earth in beauty dressed
awaits returning spring
All true love must die
alter at the best
into some lesser thing

Prove that I lie

Such body lovers have,
such exacting breath
that they touch or sigh.
Every touch they give,
Love is nearer death.

Prove that I lie

______________________________

A message brought to you by Propaghandi

Less Talk More Rock

Does it seem strange to you?
The confetti. The balloons.
The mile-wide grins and the victory dance to welcome in the heir
to a state of disrepair?
Because it sure seems strange to me:
they're acting like they won the fucking lottery!
I mean, shouldn't they feel terror at the task that lies ahead: to feed and house the people that this system's left for dead. could I have hit the nail much harder on the head?
It's profits before lives. They are motivated by greed.
First they taught us to depend
on their nation-states to mend
our tired minds, our broken bones, our bleeding limbs.
But now they've sold off all the splints
and contracted out the tourniquets
and if we jump through hoops then we might just survive.

Is this what we deserve?
To scrub the palace floors?
To fight amongst ourselves?
As we
scramble for the crumbs they spit out,
frothing at the mouth about the
scapegoats that they've chosen for us.
With every racist pointed finger
I can hear the goose-steps getting closer.
They no longer represent us
so is it not our obligation
to confront this tyranny?