How many aliens

Not green faces

But fake green cards

Worked to build your towers.

Ya made lotsa green with them, Uncle Sam

Everyone knows- and still yet

Not a flinch in your soul

–

Animosity and longing

Enmeshed

And summer sweaty.

Flashy sales,

Brokered for surrender and commitment,

Russian dolls,

Encased within each other

Sized to endlessly diminish

Until they don’t open anymore.

Happily rotting

Within their vacuum

–

Just let’s apply the force field,

And looking inward

Whisper words for growth, dubbed in the saint’s Halo

No fly zone for bullshit.

When did our minds become airports?

If I can’t wash the red stained sky I posses,

I can soap my mouth-

I can bark up the wrong tree,

Normalize violence,

Bite the hand that feeds;

In feeble contrast with the new cool: peace.

It was but an appetizer.

Lacking salt,

This old continent;

Pushed inside out

By dirty immigrants

Tipping the PH

With their tears

.

We, creators of the third world

Anchored to such righteousness

Point at the disgusting starvation,

One breath away from real comprehension,

Toxic empathy

Slithers into my ears

Subtly

As I train fascist police

Friendliest fire

the desire for struggle quenched-

Extinguished- reverse boner-ed

In the fishbowl

Of the bourgeois party

Ok

No risk

No bomb shelter

No fun.

So let them rain,

Kill them all,

Be mensch.

–

Let loose Oxycodone floods

On the frontline of this new crusade

Now just let ME point the blame

And justify bloodshed

Like once upon a time the hipster gentrified Williamsburg,

Closed all the squats

Art, music, colonial cool

TECHNO RAVE

Now only worth the entrance fee.

No outlets left

Drugged by remorses

To keep me digging

Where diamonds turn humans mad

Where luxury is corruption

Planned to dumb down animic desires

And such dirty words

Easy to reach for the bastards:

People deserve to experience torture and pain

To grow their souls.

Caste enabling determinism-

Barred from understanding limitlessness

‘Not in this life’:

Molotov the woke culture.

Rubber bullet your dissent.

The narrative does not correspond;

Like the menu of a different restaurant

Handed to you at the table

You just wanna walk out

But cannot muster the courage

So you just eat shit-

Or dare I say gobble up?

Sports, olympians, fuken Netflix

All good entertainment, granted.

Acts to cap unrest

Pacify our sleep

Lull us to innocence

Western hypocrites

Protesting Gaza genocides

Bujaja ja, little imbeciles.

The forefathers did much worse, and current warlords much worse as we speak

We fall in the web the algorithms weave

You don’t inherit the killer instinct, shitman.

Just that cozy whitewashed wealth

So do what you think you need with it,

I have too many friends from either side

Biting my tongue and cowardly taking steps

Away from you.