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Showing posts from July, 2020

Unconscious Controlled Critique

A state of subjugation so infantile, yet so disruptive, could the layers of conspiracy go further in its existence? Purportedly, a state media ran through the filter of difference and excitement leveling its own demise for short term satisfaction to the overlords, controlling our every thought and idea to the very core. Is this state ran media a consequence of governmental control, supposedly through the use of democratic means, that theoretically can be shifted determinant on public perception? Partially, yet the media runs further than what we believe it to be. As our eyeballs are ripped out of their sockets to give monetary incentives to this industry, it concludes a multiplicity of ideation that exists on its own, and wrapped around to affect the very authors themselves. Entertainment, as we uphold it, levels a perspective relevant to a minority of beings, centralized in a very few cities, and then controlled by a smaller few individuals within the business sector, and

The Slave.

There he stands His eyes bellowing a sparkle of hope The end of a tunnel once came Wanting the pain to end. Progress led him to believe his life finished. He approached the pale man with a pen and paper The parchment wet and ink faded The pale man read his article seemingly interested The man's last words before death. His name Platt Platt read aloud the moment's last breath There the pale man lay while listening His wanting to be with his wife His children lay low Unknowing if they know But before he could finish The pale man frayed his heart Platt in dismay by the destruction Where he go his love unknown The last words he spoke to his beloved: " I live for you my dear I live for our children I live for freedom I live to be alive I  know not what it is you are doing I can only imagine This is the last you will ever hear of me The last glimmering hope to you once more I wish this to be meaningful, Hope drives us to believe in the most fantastical things I can only dream of

The Deadened Maiden and Her Voyager

Ballroom Alone and without experience, there arrives two discreet individuals. A lowly boy, and a lowly girl, looking for love, looking to feel good. Their minds were too fluid, their emotions uncontrolled. They did what they loved, but knew not what it is that they loved. They looked for someone else to solve their problems. Her life alone in the wells of the deep, The maiden couldn't find confidence She looked far and wide to help those in need Her lust was for commonness. The Voyager, a brash individual Lead by example, and with anger His past held his life He lived surrounded by danger. Stress plagued their minds in the ballroom. The air was filled with pretentiousness. The Voyager entered the room with an aura of difference. His mind fixated on licentiousness. The maiden's eyes searched for someone. She searched and searched, looking for a reason to exist There he stand, broken and

The Bastion and the Widow

The sun circles around all lovers through the days of their lives. The life cycle ends and begins, the gravity weighing their time. Passions persuaded ambition in their lives. Their presence so fleeting, perhaps real happiness wouldn't stay. The work of the wicked brought forth pain The work of the wise wouldn't stop pain The death of the thrusted love fly in the ether There lived a bastion, praying the days away for truth. The bastion brought his head up, His eyes fluidly scanning space. He realized the world for what it was, Noticing its understatement, Visualizing proxy love. A widow was in search for meaning. She stumbled into a pumpkin patch where the bastion stand. The bastion was there, so ignorantly wise, and so beautiful. Astronomy lived with the widow's mind She gently gave him a kiss. Their love for seconds. Seconds recomposed minutes. The minutes were gone. As the bastion looked