Without A Cause

A man is but a man
Biological collection of cells, tissues, bones
Give a man a cause, however-
As it is said, ‘Ideas are bulletproof’
A man with a cause, ‘Invulnerable’-
Dulce Et Decorum Est

—-

I’ll be making a comeback.

First Short Story, and Poetry

Final Chapter

He had always been the hunter. His white Victorian face mask the nightmare of hundreds. A banging issues from down the hallway; a repetitive steady thumping of flesh on wood and metal. The mask tilts upwards. Contained in this red garbed mans hands are an ancient, yellowed tome with tiny, mechanical writing on the page. The book is almost to its end. Besides the rhythmic thumping issuing from the door leading to the hallway, the whisper of pages turning filled the silence. He is surrounded by oak book cases and a labyrinth of stacked books. Seemingly, this man has read each and every one. This building, once a public library is aging. The walls reek of mold and grime, the ceilings buckled from water damage and neglect. The room is illuminated from outside; the steady flickering blaze of the nearby mall. The radio in the corner, propped up on a desk built of books, is constantly buzzing with noise. “–Help! They are everywhere! The mall is overrun… We are making a stand in the hardware store! Anyone that can hear this, get the hell–”, the man in red has padded over to the radio and turned it off. The firelight flickers on the white mask, the ceiling windows basking the room in soft orange light. The white mask tips gently to the side, as if listening. Over the blaze of the mall, merely a few blocks away, moans, groans are heard from outside. The entrancing cacophony of thumping is still issuing from the mountain of furniture outside the doorway in the dark, dank hallway. The man in red turns, carefully wading through the maze of books that his own red gloved hands had built. A crash causes the masked man to pause, listening. The wooden desk from atop the pile had been shaken loose, shattering on the linoleum below. His almost finished book laying open on the ground, the man in red pauses. His white mask is level, facing the open doorway. His hands flexing at his sides, the leather of his gun belts creak as he slides his left foot slightly ahead of his right. More groans and thumping can be heard now. The mountain of the furniture is now only a hill. Dark shapes can be seen behind it. Rotten, broken fingers grab and pull at the barricades, carefully breaking them down. A cloud of pestilence and death chases the breeze from the now open entrance way. A leering jack-o-lantern face peers into the room that the masked man occupies. He draws, the cool slap of metal on leather is quickly overpowered by the explosive gunshots that light up the room, briefly illuminating the gathering horde of demons occupying the once sacred hallway. The face implodes, brains splattering the wall and congealed blood flecking the ceiling. Other faces are now appearing, each met with explosions and flashes of their own. Carefully, the man reloads his death-dealers, allowing the creatures to begin entering the room. A carefully expanding lake of congealed fluids and blood begin to pool around the doorway. It seemed that he spent hours reloading and blasting away at the endless stream of undead that choked his home. Finally, as if a switch had been flipped, or a faucet turned off, the stream stopped all at once. Surrounding the red clothed man is a ocean of black, red, and crimson fluids. A mass of bodies fill the doorway to the room, shattered and broken. Books and shelving lay scattered, blood covered and gore soaked around the room. The man in the white mask pauses, an audible sigh issuing from within. He slips his dealers of death back into their leathery crypts, the worn metal seeming to sigh on their own accord. The man wearing the red clothing, and white mask pauses. A smile appears on his lips, but the mask hides this. However, the mask does not hide what he says next.

“At least I am allowed to finish the final chapter. I say Thankee Sai. Long days and pleasant nights.”

He pauses, examining the damage he had wrought. He bends, picking up the book that he had been forced to stop reading by these rude creatures of the night. Carefully tucking the book within his red cloak, the white masked man turns and carefully pads past the pile of rotting corpses. His red leather boots now covered in red fluids better left to the imagination. He turns, now outside his library to turn and look into the night. Shapes dash, followed by many others. A grin appears once more, still hidden. He turns down the nearby alley, and disappears into the scream filled night.

——

Life of Crime

A life of crime
Perhaps most bountiful, rewarding
Good die young, wicked grow old
Parable to live life by
Steal a wallet, rob a house
Jack a car, use a stolen credit card
Money is the goal, greed on the soul
Till your caught
All is then naught

——

Life’s a Bitch

They say that life’s a bitch
And then you die
Alas the truth, who said was wise
The Sage of the Age
Birth is pain, life is pain, death too
Facts of life spoken true
Say Thankee Sai, then go die

——

Rorschach

Rumored to be bold, a theif in the night
Bane of criminals; rapists, theifs, murderers all
He only sees black and white
Good versus evil occupies his life
A true Legend of Darkness

——

Scars

Scars tell stories
Histories, biographys
They speak of abuse
Crimes of passion, agony
Of the blood spilled for a cause
My scars speak of accidents
They speak of suffering and ecstacy
Warmth of opiates and scalpels
Mistakes made, consequences followed

——

Beside the Sea

Beside the sea, not where I want to be
Perhaps the mountains, where the air is clear
I’ve never understood the sun created by He
My skin is shallow, sallow, pale has significant reason to fear

Dreaming

Inspired by the dreams that people have while researching ‘dreaming’ in Psychology, I wrote this poem. Quite religious. I hope you enjoy it.
——

Dream

I was God
The seas rose at my beckon
My blood fed the nations
Most holy, King, Lord

I raised armies, continents, mountains
Countries formed and died at my will
My breath was a gale
Torrents, tsunamis flooded from my eyes

I created life, nursed and raised
Human beings formed with my image
My hands created the stars, universes
Angels praised, honored most high

All that is over
I’ve finally awoken
A lowly parasite, blight on the Earth
My eyes open, the day begins, sun shines in
Once Great, Now Fallen
Forever trapped within a fleshy, weak corpse

Perhaps My Lifes Value

I’d like to explain the poems that I’m putting up. I feel that they deserve at least that, due to their particularity. The Jungle is a poem about Mankind, Good and Evil, and God versus the Devil. After reading it, you will realize my point: “No matter how much good tries, evil will prevail despite it all”. I enjoyed writing The Jungle, as it allowed me to delve deep inside my own mind and pull out the maniac within us all.

‘I’ll Do Anything’ is my favorite I’ve written lately. It is a poem about the all-encompassing love of a girl for a boy, and the devotion that she has for him. The Girl, kills her father, a man who sought to keep the Boy and Girl apart for some reason. I plan on revisiting this story later, perhaps as a short story, perhaps as more poetry. The characters that I started intrigue me: A strong, emotionally powerful Girl, and a weak, easily intimidated Boy. I believe they have a significant future in my poetical works. I have planned on writing some significantly dark, disturbing works and these are just the beginning. Everything until now has been political in some way. I’d like to mark the poetry after this as my “Darkness Period”. It is my debating on the true nature of human beings and the chaos, destruction, and evil contained within all.
Now for a real blog.

Lately I have been greatly affected by the things I’ve witnessed: death, life, creation and destruction. I have realized that it is all around us, at all times, everywhere. It is inescapable. The notion that death is even an example of ‘all things’ is laughable. My own accident causes me to feel a sense of invincibility, to not fear death. I have reached a point in life that many only reach on their death bed: a consignment to the future, contentedness with my eventual death, and the ability to understand the fact that all things die, myself included no matter how hard I attempt to prevent it. I have come to realize that no matter, be it religion, love, addiction, or material wealth, nothing can prevent the inevitable: that all things are born, live a short time (the blink of an eye in eternity), and then die. Thus is the cycle of life. Many find it difficult to grasp, an enigma meant to be explained by Christianity, Buddhism and the other various beliefs of mankind. All focus on the same thing: after Death, you are reborn (in some way). Whether or not I am ‘reborn’, I am content in the fact that my time here on Earth is incredibly short, that I will most likely have no significant impact on the World or Society, but I will leave a legacy. Be it only on friends and family, I will be remembered for being an unique, outspoken, intellectual, and highly philosophical being that managed to have an impact on their own short lives. If the only thing that is remembered of me for at least a generation is that I existed, then I will have accomplished what I have planned: to be remembered. It is what any human being truly wants, be they the most powerful civil rights activist, or most evil and twisted serial killer. I have realized the fact that humans are weak, frail creatures. Egotistical, narcissistic, greedy, hate-filled, and contemptuous. I have accepted that I am a beast, and animal only separated from those who crawl on their bellies or walk on four legs by my ability of thought and self-awareness. I can die happy, knowing that at least I will have done what the human virus was intended to do: exist.

To all those who read this, know that I am but a young man. A man on the verge of adulthood. I have experienced many things. Extremely good things, and horrendously wrong things. I have seen death, and witnessed the creation of life. I have had my fill of heartache, pain, depression, sadness, rejection, and indecision to satisfy that of another 5 people. However, at the same time I have had enough love, acceptance, joy, well-being, and completeness for me to feel at peace with all that has come to pass. I have found it in my soul to forgive those who had previously wronged me. I have found that while I may be weak, human in creation, I have the ability to feel true power. The power of peace. The peace that only comes with the realization that my time will eventually come. That I too will grow old and frail physically. The peace that is defined by the knowledge that I will die, and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

I hope you are able to eventually become at peace with your own fate, and realize that not a single mortal being is able to change their fate.

Enjoy.

——

The Jungle

The depths of a cool pool
-You say a soul?
-Nay, the mind of a psychopath
A visage of honor
Calm, cool, collected, considerate
-Wrong
-Hateful, bestial, instinctual, heathen
Warm moisture, drips, chirps of creatures
A tall canopy of society, values, morals
-Again wrong
-Cesspool of incest, murder, rape, robbery
-Psychopaths are human most base
-Epitome of perfection in corruption
Rustling of leaves, purity
Shush of breath, the sleeping beast within
Clinking of metal, approach of conquistadors
-Laughable, you know
-So wrong again, who listens to you?
-You look to faith as explanations
-Cocky bastard you, perhaps YOU need help
-My beast is released, your ignorant and dumb
The darkness, held at bay by light
A risen and fallen angel, insect versus bird
Shadow of night, the trees shake
-Damn right
-Glad you see it now
-Can’t keep me out forever
-It’s just me and you
-I’m inside your head
Welcome to the jungle
Where reason and chaos co-exist
-But I’m winning

——

‘I’ll Do Anything’

Standing, grinning
She smiles and laughs
“What did you expect?”

He shakes his head
A frown, a single tear
“Compassion, perhaps love”

Stare down, tension is palatable
She adjusts her hand
The pistol is heavy, lead-like
He groans, grimaces in fear

Her smile
“You said you loved me”

His frown
“I do, always and forever”

Her finger twitches
“I need your love, and I’ll do anything”

A bang, flash
Warm, soft spray of blood, brain, bone fragments

He grimaces, She smiles
“The bitch deserved death”
Her heavy hand, his tears
“But he was your father”

She grins
“He kept us apart, and I said I’ll do anything”

A Long Time Overdue

These poems have been waiting to be uploaded. Apologies for not doing so sooner. Enjoy.

———-

A True Patriot

Define a true, full-blooded Patriot
Dying for one’s country?
To die for one’s country is to spit in the face of a true Patriot

Spying on one’s enemies?
Deception is a most high crime, persecution as a traitor is the only justice

What is Patriotism?
A Patriot, take example of these
The revolutionaries, persecuted
The liberals, mocked
The communists, murdered
A failing government, persecution of Patriots abound
False-sons born, weened on the tit of corruption, disease
Burn them, Cut them from the stalk
Solution suited only for weeds
Choking the garden watered with Patriot’s blood
Pesticide, sprayed on the conservatives, republicans, capitalists

Claiming ‘United States’, when ‘Divided States’
A true Patriot?
More common than thought
Right before one’s eyes

——

About Justice

Are we not human
Equal, none above, below naught
Deciding the fate, ‘holier than thou’
Handing out death, judgment
A jury of hypocrites
If Equal, Decisions unjust
God is only Right, Just, True

——

Father Marx

Hero, Leader of the Prols
The Red saint, angel
Liberator, Inspirator, Visionary

True Hero of the revolution
God Rest Him!

Capitalists nightmare, fear, terror most severe
God Rest Him!

Blood running Red, breathing equality and justice
Sweating, bleeding, forgotten youth praise his name
“Karl Marx! Our true father!”

Judging none, yet feared by most
The Red Scare, that Wisconsin troll
Misunderstood, yet earth shattering philosopher
Who claims him false, lies?
The eaters of money, the breeders of pestilence
Hundreds of years old, yet living in the hearts of millions
God Rest Him, Forever, Amen

New Additions

I tried a few old techniques for writing free-ve. One is taking a word and breaking it into lines, and then taking the entire ABC’s and writing lines to each letter. I also wrote a little ode to my Urban Dead group, the Philosophe Knights. I recently achieved the rank of Philosophe, the highest distinction within the group. I am now know as Lord GS. It is something I have worked at for a very long time, and is a great honor. I wrote a small free-ve to my character of the Black Reaper, it proved a fun piece to write. I even wrote a bit of religious poetry. Enjoy.

——

The Philosophe Knights

Gods among men, few against the many
Tide breakers, Ignorance punished
Executioners of the weak-minded
Guiders of the Knowledgeable
Steadfast even in death, battle
Flashing swords of Truth
Garbed in the armor of Enlightenment
Masked in ebony, gold, ink, and gunpowder
The Philosophe Knights; Guardians of the Future

——

Salvation

Hear! Hear!
Hark, the angels scream
Your name falls from pure lips
Stones off a cliff, tumble, shatter upon gold paved streets
Repentance, sins abound within your soul
Sexual immorality, murder, lies, robbery
Subterfuge, holding other Gods higher
The faceless God of Anonymous
Pray tell your end comes quick

—–

Communism

Commonly misunderstood, rejected
Open arms welcome all
Malicious lies spread, perpetuated
Manipulative politicians libel, slander
United few, educate crowds
Never accepted, welcomed venomously
Isolation commonplace, Brothers jailed
Speaking in debates, news rejected, ridiculed
Many gather, tears spill, hearts devoted

——

The Gunslinger

Masked, cloaked shadow stalks streets
Swish of leather, glimpsed metal under black cloth
Guy Fawksian mask grinning, unholy piercing gaze
Leaping rooftops, rotten hands stretch
Crashing, shattering of glass
A sleeping rapist awakes, cold steel pressed to his forehead
“Please…”
“No. Your crimes have preceded you, punishment is death”
“But sir, I-”
A shot rings out, in a city of gun battles and groans
The grinning smile now blood spattered, dripping
Flurry of cloth, shattered frame rattles
The Black Reaper, the Lord Gunslinger, disappears into shadow

——

The Communist Alphabet

Always working together for a cause
Bourgeoisie arrested, punished for crimes
Capitalism defeated, Communism victorious
Democracy crumbles, a true united Front is born
Equality is decided, the celebration shakes cities
Freedom achieved, the celebration shakes cities
Guardians of the Young, defenders of the Wise
Hate, fear, insecurity abolished forever
Ignorance replaced with Enlightenment, Knowledge
Justice equal, none above another
Killing futile, Brothers, Sisters stand united
Liberation breaks shackles of servitude
Masks removed, light exposes shadowed corners
Negativity changes to optimism, positivity
Oppression no longer, supporting All on shoulders
Proletarians cheer, celebrate eternal victory
Questioning democracy, capitalism, injustice, war
Red and yellow colors of equality, dedication, loyalty
Standing unburdened free from yokes of slavery
Together as one, equal in stature, distinctions
United together beneath a single flag
Violence and racism erased, unnecessary
Welcoming the freedom of justice, peace
Xenophobia eliminated, one country, cause, flag
Yearning for freedom, justice
Zealous for the cause

A New Collection

A few new ones I wrote today. Various themes. Enjoy.

——–

Political Chaos

The name given to revolutions
Puppet governments and states alike
A specter of shape, coherence, and light
The United States declare unfit
Politicians bought with blood
Our patriotism is lost to money
Bought soldiers march on towns, cities
Women, children fall to the steel blade of Democracy
Liberation! The holy USA!
When the fight is brought home
Terrorists and Islamic extremists declared
War on weapons of mass illusion destruction
A placed dictator has fallen from US Grace
The Pope Of America, the bastard Texan
His father pulls strings, guiding his hand
“Political Chaos”, Bringing democracy to the ignorant
The next feast needs finding

——

The Murder of the Youth

Advertisements, knives into yielding flesh
Name brands, twisting the blades of flash
Technology, blade between the ribs, puncturing of organs
Popularity, blood spills from ragged cuts
Clothing, ripping of the skin, intestines spill
Cars, mashing, rupturing of liver, lungs, heart and soul

Corporations rule, the lifeblood of the Youth
Transfusion of flash, power, and money
Stitching with Hollister, Abercrombie, American Eagle

Cry out!
Rage against the murder of the Youth!
Do not fall prey to the numbing power of lies!

——

Death

Sweet embrace
Open Thyself
Welcome Ender
Reaper caresses
Sexual release
Eternal peace
Rest now

Life

Crushing grasp
Difficulties abound
Horrible joke
Prolonged torture
Oppression concurrence
Hell incarnate
Pray Death

——

Musings on News Networks

Corporations, new guiding lights
The television generation of sheep
Hanging on every generated word

Fox, CNN, MSNBC
Lies, the best of liars
Grinning executives, underhand bills
Politicians saved, lies perpetuated
Weapons of mass destruction, terrorist attacks
Smooth, sly manifestations of lies
Countries ignored
The wars in Africa?
The famines in Europe?
The riots in Asia?
Portfolios of politicians furthered
True news forgotten, distorted

Who to believe now?
Continue to absorb lies
Truth to your ears, fine
Open your eyes, news surrounds
Reject the corporate agendas of lies
Topple the black-lipped politicians
Reject the lying corporation of political agendas
Burn the towers of lies, black stoned, forbidding
Written in the blood of innocence
Legion are the blind sheep of generated news

——

The Hand that Feeds

Respect has fallen, broken down
Uncle Sam has beaten, held down masses
Sheep herds of citizens wander, complacent

Feeding mindless television generations
Led onwards to cliffs of complacency and resignation
Slaughtered and blinded, unmoved and ignorant

Wait, a clearing forms, individuals scatter
Law and order crumble, reborn, a rising phoenix from ashes
A revolution! A red flag held high!
Hear! Rebel against these blind masters
The ancient, rotten hand of the Uncle, masked
Bite! Fight back Brothers!
The hand that holds, no longer feeds
Now we cut the hand from the body
Tip the head of the Uncle from the shoulders
The body rebels against the cancer of ignorance and deceit
Cancer spreading by Uncle in the blood

Legion are the enlightened anew
Uncle, the head retaliates, killing, blindly striking
Legion fights, blood has been spilled, stains
The hand no longer masked, breeder of pestilence and disease
The body rises, Legion as one
Red as the blood spilled in preservation, liberation is the red flag

A Few Randoms

Castle Discordia

Red stoned, Slumbering Demon
Rising spires, massive gate
Rich surroundings, dead town

Silent statues, golden, jeweled
Throne stretches, Crimson mist
Questioning mirrors, Marble steps
Unknown doors, 595 enigmas
Venomous lights, soul drained
Quietly now! Kings asleep!

For now, Le Casse Roi Russe
Crimson King shall slumber tonight!

——

Musings on Religion and People

Damned, forsaken diety
Forgotten, heretical fortunes
Rantings, manifest reason

Slaved, chained servitude
Pious, religious purpose
Risen, philosophical ramblings

Pray, my child
Heaven is imminent, hear!
Hell dines on your soul tonight!

Untitled Post

After reading a short story written by a friend of mine, I wrote this. Perhaps I’ll do themed poems later, but for now, randomness will prevail.

——–

Neutrality

A balance, careful scales
Death, Life, balance maintained
Ripe, luscious forests, jungles, seas
Barren, rocky deserts, crags, caves
Gritty sand, Rich earth

Exposed, Day breeds Life
Obscured, Night spawns Death

Male, Female
A balance, maintained
Relentlessly, unbiasedly
Tip the scales, Damned Forever

——

A bit odd. But the theme of time, and life has been the focus of so much around me lately. I should work on some interesting stuff this weekend. Depends on how inspiration strikes me.

‘The Prol’ and My Theory

Before you read my post, let this introduction inform you of how I work. I am a budding political scientist by hobby, and I am an avid supporter and paying member of the Youth Communist League of the United States of America. If my political poetry, opinion offends you, please find a nicer, more RIGHT-viewpoint to make yourself feel better. Now, I have completed the first part of my ‘endless’ epic. I see no end to my modern style of epic poetry, as it involves an idea, an abstract ideal, as the basis of the ‘hero’. They will usually vary in endings, this one is a tragedy. I hope you enjoy it. Please leave comments.

———-

The Prol

The assembly, calm, attention maintained
Our John, passionate, charismatic
Background, brick and mortar walls
Smokestacks abound
The fiery furnace, dedicated
Everlasting flame, Extinguished flame
Cold furnace, silent, ash choked
Crowd jostled, restless, edges take shape
Black-Clad, Riot-Geared, Gas-Masked
Marching lockstep, formation, armed, dangerous
Crowd compressed, peace turned
Hell on Earth, human devolution
Gas fired, screams, yells, coughs, cries
White, Grey, Haze of Confusion
Our John, stumbles, dazed
Control falters, falls, fails
“The bourgeois have arrived”

Flash, blast to the past
Our John, ever dedicated
Worker, subordinate, servant, slave, peasant
Crash, clang of machinery, clash
Automobiles, steel, plastic and wood
A factory, brick and mortar, oppression
Our John, still smiling
Smokestacks abound, belching black death
Pride of his family, feeding the family, clothing, housing
His wife’s pride, joy, honor
Our John, the diligent worker
A shadow approaches, silhouette, smog-cloaked
Sputtering, the Boss, suit, tie, 3 button, thick golden ring
Out-of-place-depth-knowledge
“With me, John”, Boss demands
Ever the obedient, Our John
Boss leads, Our John the follower
Boss scolds, insufficient work
Production low, high expectations
Speed improvements, risk of wage loss
Our John, ever obedient smiles
Nods “Yes, Boss, will do”,
Pleased, annoyed, smug
Sudden violent cacophony, explosion of sound
Yells, cries, screams, moans, groans
Death, Our John reacts, ever the diligent
Responding alarms, a fire determined
Boss overwhelmed, stupor, waste
“Woe! Woe! Accident on floor!”
Screaming speaker, frantic emergency
“The firefighters are coming,
yet there are injured!”
Our John, ever the Hero
Running, dashing, thick of the flames
Dazed, confused, wasted, Boss faints
Our John, assistant to Mankind
Injured workers, cries, groans
Some manage, crawl, others not, still
Our John, ever the Savior
Lifting one, burned, injured
White bone against red, black flesh
Roasting hair, meat, metal, copper of blood thick
Fire, heat, sound explodes, whoosh, bang, crash, groan
“Firefighters arrived!” the cry is echoed
To Safety, Our John the Leader
The worker, sputtering, choked, crying
Groaning in pure blissful agony, shock, bloodied, broken
Our John, ever the Obedient
Days later, rewarded? No
Forgotten, and ignored, nobody important
Boss rewarded, ‘Best Manager, Savior, Hero’
Our John, ever the Humble
All others respect, Our John the Savior
A true Idol, Guardian of the Factory
Back in grind, powerful hammer, hot steel
Armed with mask, torch, shield
A true Warrior of the Modern
A factory God, Deity, Saint
Our John, the Thoughtful
“The rich get richer, the poorer poor”
“Action! Revolution! Unity! Justice!”
“A leader, I’ve been told, a speaker!”
“Capitalism, inequality, injustice, No More!”
Our John, ever the Revolutionary
“Listen my brothers, Listen well”

Snapped, back to reality, confusion
The gas, choking, spray of water
Splashing, chaos, utter and complete
Our John, struggles, stands
Soaked, choking, confused, angered
“Who are THEY, THEY are wrong!”
“This was peaceful, calm collected!”
“Now Chaos! Police are Chaos! Hateful!”
“WRONG!” Our John, screaming
Brothers stagger, beaten, broken
Specters hover, vision blurred
Riot-geared, Mask-Covered, Plastic-Wall
Batons fall, stab, bludgeon
Bones break, skin bruises, bodies crumble
Our John, ever vigilant
Trapped, dead end alley, trapped
Gas, water, sound, lights
Unyielding walls of brick, cement, flesh
Police gather, plastic walled, weapons ready
Crowd retreats, falls around
Our John, diligent, watchful
The Police, announcement, declaration
“Authorized, deadly force”
“Resistance, futile, lame, useless”
“Surrender, or may God sort your Souls”

Flash, return to the past
Our John, ever the Revolutionary
The doors barred, chained
Background, bricks and mortar walls
Smokestacks abound
Silent furnaces, unmoving lines of conveyor
A window opens, Bosses office
Balding, grayed  head emerges
“Closed! Laid-off! Your jobs, gone!”
“Replacements! Transition! New Country! Cheaper Work!”
Crowd, angered, restless, erupts
Rocks, bricks, shattering glass, injured Boss
Our John, ever the Calm and Collected
“Brothers! Calm yourselves, peace!”
“Now is the time! Glorious Equality!”
“Many years, Father Marx, Father Engels!”
“Communism, the way to Justice!”
“Communism, the way to Peace, Equality, Truth!”
“Capitalists, death, injustice, lies!”
“Chained, slaves, servants to the Rich!”
“Listen to me Brothers, listen to me!”
A marching is heard, whispers of Police
Our John, ever the Revolutionary

Our John, on his knees
Gunfire, blood spray, pooling
Our John, ever Thoughtful
“Is this, the end?”
Soaked by blood, water, injured, wounded
Our John, ever the Fighter
Bodies scattered, avenue choked
Blood pools, forms rivers, lakes, oceans
Faceless, Police firing, flashes of Death, Injustice
Mercy forgotten, Peace turned Blood Bath
Brothers beg mercy, lead-filled retribution given
Our John, ever the Saint
“Bastards! Your fault ALONE!”
“People may die, Ideas do not!”
Brothers fall, bleeding, last breath
Quick! Our John, fighting to the Last
Clutching stone, hurled, thrown at plastic wall
Sudden pressure, agony, pure blissful warmth
Clutching chest, leaking Life, Our John, falls
The blood street rises, approaches, connects
Our John, the Hero, Villain, Saint, Demon
Our John, smiling, relishing Life, Family, Friends
Final thoughts, final breath
“Fear the faceless”, Legion are the Red.

———-

Now, for my theory.

I believe that this recession has been planned, and has gone off quite well as a way to ‘retard’ the American people and their freedoms. Since CLINTON was in office, it has been nothing but less freedoms, more restrictions. Honestly, I believe Obama is nothing but a pawn in the continuing existence of the bourgeoisie and the effort to make the proletarians more servants, and slaves. Honestly, the day that people remember the words of Thomas Jefferson, the better:

*”I predict future happiness for Americans if they can prevent the government from wasting the labors of the people under the pretense of taking care of them.”

*”I hope we shall crush in its birth the aristocracy of our monied corporations which dare already to challenge our government to a trial by strength, and bid defiance to the laws of our country.”

*”My reading of history convinces me that most bad government results from too much government.“

Just a little food for thought. Please leave comments, your opinions, etc.