The Demons of Privilege

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God helps the ones that

Help themselves

Go helps those that

Are white

Male wealthy

God helps the ones

That take and destroy

His creations for profit.

God helps America

Conquer inhabited lands

God helps: genocide

                   Corporate buy outs

                  Rape

                Murder

God only helps the ones

Who need it least.

God is the world’s largest

Corporation

Patting our oligarchy

And tyranny

On the back

God helps

Intolerance, insensitivity

God

Symbolizing profit

And power

More than the mighty

Dollar

Molach

My all mighty dollar

 

Math 114

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I don’t give a shit

About your xs and ys

When I realize the best

Option are that these pupils

At the center of America’s

Eye of destruction

Watching over the world

Making sure we’re the only tyrant.

The best option being

Unless the all mighty They

Are too dumb to

Understand simple minded

Sentences

For I fear if not

The world

And colleges everywhere

Will be buried alive

In biochemical warfare

And the largest of all of history’s

Mass grave

Filled with the ashes

Of the black

Latin American

Asian

Nonwhite

Poor

Black Survival: The Toupet’s Adversary

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Poor whiteys and their

Broken hearted mistresses

Their crowns chafe on their

Expanding skulls

Like a balloon

That we all pray will pop

Like a wall, racial profiling

like the terrorists lie within our walls

like we’re pointing the finger

at the wrong immigrant.

Future America

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Gurgling gum drop gunman

Mickey mouse mangled

Mutilated, maimed

Must have been Islam

American kids breathe, tamed

Only blissful misfits

Damned with the blame

gurneys so gullible

indolent infection

invest in the insects

Surviving the Cold

Father’s burden. A Poem by Coyote Poetry My father taught me to appreciate laughter and woman. Father’s burden (My father  was a Ojibwa/Mexican man in 1950 USA. He never allowed anyone …

Source: Happy Father’s day

Powerful poem about fatherhood. I would highly recommend a read!

 

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The men that built this country

Rosebuds at the end of each barfly

The cold

Granting the fitness

Necessary for survival

The many miles

Across this country

Were planted

Under brown feet

Under the feet of an immigration

A union of the five corners

To break the back of each of our fathers

And oppress indiscriminately

The frostbite is inherited

Brittle bones

Weather worn

Losing toes to frigid time

The nails

In the hands

Of our many martyrs

Look so much

 like

Icicles

Push Pop War

 

Usa, War, Uncle Sam, Terror, Silhouette

Ginsberg by the sausages

Eyeing Mccarthy bag boy

At back, 3 point turned

Don’t meat, travel slowly

The curtain is iron

Transparent ammunition

I’ve always been able

To see straight through you

Close your eyes with shallow grieving

The caulking gingerbread blood

Faucets leak slowly

Apocapic ending whirl,

Annihilation transmitted to

A black polo

Cornstalk curdling

Digest different

Delay departure.

Ghosts in the tea party

Gum reduction surgery

And Arian dentures.

Detrite, Damascus

Finger nails

Like the escorts tail

The peacock’s feathers

To slit your wrists by.

Ruffled lipids

And the win ripples

Over sewage prairie

Stalks the stinking

Smiles

On the brown

Handled

Tending the field

Ferguson

Carefully divvied
Up on my figure.
Spread like frosted pastries
Dispersed evenly
Meticulously
The shards of the vodka bottle
Teases me
With the cold alcohol.
Bashed against the base
Of the stuck in traffic
Swat van

“Rest in peace Michael Brown
Every cop in the ground”

I shuddered when the rock broke
Through the window
Of the shop
Where he bought
His own
Ferrari
Something old
Withering away in the garage
That he always seems
To prioritize over people

He would have killed for that car
6 shots, unloaded clip killed.

I smoked in line,
Holding the banner
Cigarillos
Almost sweet enough
To have been stolen

I see the ignition
The catalyst in his
Black pocket
And the town in burning
And my eyes
Are burning

But if this country was built
Upon the backs of my
Lashed forefathers

That same ignition
Would be at the edge of his gun
Blazing through
The fire in me.

Church Shooting

The crucifix
Burns my skin
Too

The innocent
Suffer most
Before the sun
Burns
To a permanent
eclipse

You don’t need
Perspective
To give up
Hope

You don’t need
Reason
To kill

Christ Carpentry
And a nail
In the apex
Of soft skulls
Terminal Children

There have been fathers
Beating
Raping
children
For “sexuality”
Developed years
After their date of death.
All justified
With the name
Inscribed
On their coffin

The rounds
Aren’t only for
Soldiers
Metallic dangling
Cross hair
Around their neck
Fighting for their righteous cause
But for the small hands
And the distant dreams
Worth the fight

For them
They pray
To a tyrant
With a lower case t
Housed in
A coffin
With stained glass windows

Laugh it off.

Hiding behind jokes of the
Poor
Black
Immigrant
Does it make it easier to be part of the problem?
Do you somehow feel less alone
When you look out at who has the power in this country
And you kiss their ass,
Lick their balls?

If I didn’t hate you so much
This poem would be far better
If I can only write one story
One fuck you
To make you understand
The damage you pass off

Spreading like seeds of intolerance
Like dandruff falling from your brain
Onto your shoulders
And from your shoulders
Onto the starving crowds of peasants
So far beneath you
Feeding off your seamless
Heaps of bullshit.

Behind the Camera

Long live the king
The liberal loved
Guilt endorsed
King
Long live the assimilated
integrated
Lost man
That stands for the very thing
That raped his ancestors for generations
The very thing that tells him
He isn’t enough
Long Live the King
That lives as the example
Of the white devils worst tyranny
That red lined ghettoed
Long Live the King
That to the rest of us will still be a negro
That will further progress
The progressive illusion
Of integration
And equality
Equally as far from the working class
Pushed beneath the skin
Only those diagnosed
Are the ones that feel that pain.