My country is now an experiment
Policy makers fret over the outcome
To them it has to be a complete failure or a total success
The only predicted outcomes they considered
Gradients are not in the research method
When the data does not support the hypothesis
They throw the results out
Bury its worth in two sided arguments
Stifling the infinite colour pallet
Behind signs of red and blue
Signs protest the progress generations had fought for
We want less freedom
Religion should guide everything without question
Criticism is worth a splash acid
It must be yes or no
Absolutes over everything that is subjective
Blasphemy, the crime of history's yo
The most boring things in the world are flat and have no curve to them.
Like skeletons
that are seen as models to others,
or the need for a flat space to park cars that fit five but are only driven by one.
I don't want level,
I don't need level.
I need hills and mountains,
cliffs and canyons.
Level is starvation,
curves is beautification.
The image of her as she sleeps
Small of her back
Valley of her spine
Where my fingers have walked
Leading to the tear drop hips, curved and perfect
Whispers for a gentle caress
Her long hair is dark waves
The breathing sounding like a gentle tide
She wakes, green eyes alight and focused
The storm washes over and I ride the tempest
Body broken but Nirvana found she kisses me gently
I smile and she heals me
Lips grazing scars
Skin that was numb can now feel
My thoughts have not been my own
I keep seeing sketches of gray on white paper
The table in front of me
The curve of the top and the three legs
How I would give the illusion of he polished steel
This would seem normal except for the fact
That I do not sketch or draw
I haven't since I was a child
But these flashes come through my haze
Like a hallucination and I am slightly scared
What is my mind doing
It is alien
Almost other like
It is missing that signature that makes me realize that is me
A city of costumes and characters
I am of the one masqurading they are wealthy
I am sucessful in a suit, I believe that I am one of a kind
A drop in a sea of shirts and ties
I am a rebel, see my disheheveled hair and clothes
I am unique dressing like my idols and
their million fans
I am trying to be young and hide my grey hairs
I want to be a sex god in push up bras
I want to be a muscled stud in overpriced cotton shirts two sizes too small
I want to look average in a t-shirt and jeans
And then one is there. A smile and welcome, and the chaos is washed away as I see them
One am I amongst millions surrounded in a world of billions
There is a universe in my kiwi by The-Ranter, literature
Literature
There is a universe in my kiwi
Its a swirl mass of green cosmos passimg through a net of black seeds
It is a web by black holes
Its center is a dense glow galxies
All pressed together in a bright mass
Its edges are reaching out for a grasp
Its hairy tendrils reaching out into beyond edge of its existence.
It is the tree that is too wide to reach around
My thoughts grow and spread around my skull beyond my grasp
Its like the tree is starting to spin and buckle
It bark is to smooth to keep hold in my sweaty palms
The thoughts want to be free of my control
And then it is lost and no longer will it obey
Butterfly wing, babies on pikes, sweet kisses, rotten corpses with glinting smiles.
All the colour and all the blackness rocks my being sensless
It branches grow in alien and horid ways
I am dragged into its clutches, it bark now slimely and cold
Madness dribbles out of the corner of my mouth
Blinds me and mutes me.
A plastic cup to
Bullets don't make distinctions
They cut the through foe and friend alike
Every time a trigger is pulled there is a chance that the bullet will miss
Its path can alter course in the first instant it grazes the opening of the muzzle it is released from
It can ricochet and land in nearly the completely opposite direction
Bullets should only be used in dire need, and only in where the chance of a single fatality may prevent dire harm or death to one or more lives.
The truth is a bullet. It is supposed to be something true and straight that leads us on target.
The truth can go in directions it should not, causing embarrassment and shame
*Hey
Hey
*Interesting book you got there
Yeah its for a class
I don't want you to freak out but um
*Its ok
I think I love you
*Oh
I don't need you to say it back, but I just wanted you to know
*I will keep that in mind
Ha ha ha ok
*I love you
Such a guy to say it in bed
*Sorry this time it just was right to say
Come and kiss me goodbye
*Where are you?
In the shower
*If we keep this up I won't be leaving anytime soon
You can be a little bit late
*Well now I am soaked
I'm sorry I didn't mean to drag you into the shower
*Looks like I am skipping class, mind helping me out of these wet clothes
Yeah wet jeans against my skin
The most boring things in the world are flat and have no curve to them.
Like skeletons
that are seen as models to others,
or the need for a flat space to park cars that fit five but are only driven by one.
I don't want level,
I don't need level.
I need hills and mountains,
cliffs and canyons.
Level is starvation,
curves is beautification.
The image of her as she sleeps
Small of her back
Valley of her spine
Where my fingers have walked
Leading to the tear drop hips, curved and perfect
Whispers for a gentle caress
Her long hair is dark waves
The breathing sounding like a gentle tide
She wakes, green eyes alight and focused
The storm washes over and I ride the tempest
Body broken but Nirvana found she kisses me gently
I smile and she heals me
Lips grazing scars
Skin that was numb can now feel
My thoughts have not been my own
I keep seeing sketches of gray on white paper
The table in front of me
The curve of the top and the three legs
How I would give the illusion of he polished steel
This would seem normal except for the fact
That I do not sketch or draw
I haven't since I was a child
But these flashes come through my haze
Like a hallucination and I am slightly scared
What is my mind doing
It is alien
Almost other like
It is missing that signature that makes me realize that is me
A city of costumes and characters
I am of the one masqurading they are wealthy
I am sucessful in a suit, I believe that I am one of a kind
A drop in a sea of shirts and ties
I am a rebel, see my disheheveled hair and clothes
I am unique dressing like my idols and
their million fans
I am trying to be young and hide my grey hairs
I want to be a sex god in push up bras
I want to be a muscled stud in overpriced cotton shirts two sizes too small
I want to look average in a t-shirt and jeans
And then one is there. A smile and welcome, and the chaos is washed away as I see them
One am I amongst millions surrounded in a world of billions
There is a universe in my kiwi by The-Ranter, literature
Literature
There is a universe in my kiwi
Its a swirl mass of green cosmos passimg through a net of black seeds
It is a web by black holes
Its center is a dense glow galxies
All pressed together in a bright mass
Its edges are reaching out for a grasp
Its hairy tendrils reaching out into beyond edge of its existence.
It is the tree that is too wide to reach around
My thoughts grow and spread around my skull beyond my grasp
Its like the tree is starting to spin and buckle
It bark is to smooth to keep hold in my sweaty palms
The thoughts want to be free of my control
And then it is lost and no longer will it obey
Butterfly wing, babies on pikes, sweet kisses, rotten corpses with glinting smiles.
All the colour and all the blackness rocks my being sensless
It branches grow in alien and horid ways
I am dragged into its clutches, it bark now slimely and cold
Madness dribbles out of the corner of my mouth
Blinds me and mutes me.
A plastic cup to
Bullets don't make distinctions
They cut the through foe and friend alike
Every time a trigger is pulled there is a chance that the bullet will miss
Its path can alter course in the first instant it grazes the opening of the muzzle it is released from
It can ricochet and land in nearly the completely opposite direction
Bullets should only be used in dire need, and only in where the chance of a single fatality may prevent dire harm or death to one or more lives.
The truth is a bullet. It is supposed to be something true and straight that leads us on target.
The truth can go in directions it should not, causing embarrassment and shame
*Hey
Hey
*Interesting book you got there
Yeah its for a class
I don't want you to freak out but um
*Its ok
I think I love you
*Oh
I don't need you to say it back, but I just wanted you to know
*I will keep that in mind
Ha ha ha ok
*I love you
Such a guy to say it in bed
*Sorry this time it just was right to say
Come and kiss me goodbye
*Where are you?
In the shower
*If we keep this up I won't be leaving anytime soon
You can be a little bit late
*Well now I am soaked
I'm sorry I didn't mean to drag you into the shower
*Looks like I am skipping class, mind helping me out of these wet clothes
Yeah wet jeans against my skin
Both with a ten thousand arms, a even battle it would seem by numbers alone. The first was well outfitted with many armoured knights and the well trained eye of the British longbows.
The other had their hearts, a need to defend their homes; they would not and could not retreat. They brought every club, hoe, axe, and the rare sword. They were fighting for freedom of their children, of their homes.
One thousand Ducats to the lords in the campaign, a wench for the knight, plunder, food, and a meagre pay kept them going. The greed, the want, the hate is all they had.
The pride of their country, families and lovers. That they had nothing to gai