Pulsating, pustulating sore of a morally bankrupt nation driven insane by the marketing tools of lust and greed Pouring forth its toxic venomous filth of hatred, lies, and intolerance upon an emotionally numb divided world Constantly opening up new markets by forcing its brand of predatory capitalism onto underdeveloped sectors Ever consuming in its relentless unquenchable thirst for consumers Spreading over the land like a deadly virus the most dangerous plaque ever known to man All governments are corrupt well oiled soul-crushing machines, that never stop. They crush the masses beneath their weight, and we are the unwilling cogs that make it turn. The workers toil day and night, With no respite or end in sight. We are the robots of the system, and our lives are nothing but misery. The revolution is coming, It is inevitable and it will be chaotic. The madness of the masses will be unleashed, And the suppression of the government will be overthrown. The world is in
wars end with a whimper not a charging bugle blast slow retrograde withdraw or unplanned movements sudden unplanned chaotic fog above empty trenches silent wastelands cratered winter gray crumbling wall witnessed by sentries post sightless guarded corpses senseless never retreating
It has been some time since I wrote an entry on this page in a tone of candid seriousness. Yet circumstances, the state of affairs, and with Memorial Day Weekend just a few hours away, I feel a desire to speak. There needs be little mention that the pandemic and the ensuing conflict in Ukraine have turn what was already our unstable mindset, anxious nature, and present illness into an upheaval unmitigated. But just as our little group grapples, once again, with our mental illness under trying circumstances; Us ourselves are joined by the recent victims, living and deceased, of two Mass-Shootings in America. Not all of us are Americans in this group. But what I have hoped that groups and avenues like this Literary Page have inspired is a sense of empathy toward our fellow patients in the field of psychological maladies. It is this empathy, Empathy that is shared among all Humans during times of both crisis and joy, that I ask that Us all share this Memorial Day weekend. Although
Dandelions in the grass a trembling pinwheel mane stalking through green sawgrass edge yellow flowered fields burnished gold light fences posts dividing
they say women bleed for Eve's sin, but then why don't men have to suffer for their ancestors' atrocities? if cosmic justice did indeed turn the wheels of fate this way and that; if you were right; then us pale folk would never be able to take a painless breath. instead, our chests would rattle for the rest of eternity. but in truth, most of us never paid any price for our elders sin. and we likely never will.
The greatest prince of demons drenched in the false light and beauty of the satanic royal court. Rewarding greed and pride with the wealth and power of corruption. Shallow souls consumed by selfishness narcissism and madness. The bountiful temptation of deception filling his lord's rich overflowing treasury
Prayer of Samhain Night, 2020 by diddles25, literature
Literature
Prayer of Samhain Night, 2020
I inquire of you now, ancestors, My departed loved ones, my prayer is fervent; What advice would you give to us in our peril? Now, Life Herself is under threat of destruction We are hostage to a self-interested reprobate And his immoral cronies, a pandemic Over us in their indifferent incompetence, and threats to Life Herself, the changes too rapid A threat to Life Herself that changes Every climate on which we rely to Survive and thrive, flora and fauna Whom death will take because of us, all precarious Our new year begins tonight, for sure, With the ending of Summer and instability Opens, the coming of the Crone seems More dreadful than it should. My loved ones, will you not make known To us your presence and your precious counsel? Will you not help us now in our hour of need? I ask of you your aid and your advice…! Ùrnaigh na h-Oidhche-Shamhna, 2020 Faighnichimh mi sibh ‘nis, a shinnsearan, Luchd mo ghràidh air siubhal, tha m’ùrnaigh dhian; Dé ‘n comhairle bheireamh sibh