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Legate DamarWe all remember are former leader Legate Damar
Who thought with the Dominion Cardassia would go far
The truth was obscene
They gave our worlds to Breen
This alliance would leave us without even a home star
His wealth and privilege did not make him content
In fact he was determined to make amends and repent
It was no longer ideal
To lick Vorta boot heel
He would make the changelings pay for the blood they spent
What is it Good For?There is nothing in the world that I truly abhor
Like the senseless exercise that is war
Makes misery rife
Is the best we can do really meekly asking “what is it good for”?
I mean I don’t wish to bore and procrastinate
But given its tendency to burn and devastate
And its constant repeat
Ensure eventual defeat
Why can’t we give up this senseless hate?
I don’t like the American bosses but don’t hate the Yanks
Especially not the poor sods marching in the ranks
Nor do I hate the French
Or the heirs of the Ubermensch
Nor do I hate Ivan and Artyom crammed into Russian Tanks
I don’t hate anyone not even the sons of the Shah
In fact I think peace with them would go real far
Better than a mention
Of Geneva Convention
I look forward to the day when we all can give a hearty Yee-Hah!
I know I’m usually in the extreme minority
On issues of beliefs, politics and sexuality
But I’m surely not
The only one to give a jot
ConsumptionMark exhaled as quietly as he could, wincing a little as the Walker twitched its head slightly in his direction. After a brief pause the Walker remained still. With his lungs screaming at him to take another breath Mark breathed in deeply, successfully resisting the urge to gasp out loud. The tension was mounting, his knees hurt from being crouched for so long and his ear drums where pounding making it difficult to listen out for other Walkers out of the sight. He needed to get outside in the open where he could just sprint back to camp. The problem was that this Walker had stumbled into the doorway and just stood there, twitching.
Mark knew it could do this for months while it slowly rotted away trapping him forever or until he slipped and let the smelly creep know he was in here. With no other way out it would be snack time and then a few years wandering around the ruins chasing after warm bodies. The cramps were getting worse and a pressure in his groin was telling him he would need
PartisansThe Partisans of Italia sang Bella Ciao
Though there rifles chorused a pow, pow
They turned Mussolini
And turned his minions into dog chow
Little girl with baby dolls and rainbow colored ponies.
Mommy, daddy, puppy dogs make sure she's never lonely.
Candy canes and lollipops and sugar-coated treats.
Living in a wealthy land has made her life so sweet.
...and then there's Imelda
Little boy with GI Joe's and Lego's from the store.
Small town life with little league keeps him from being bored.
Chocolate cake and ice cream too and friends to come and play.
Life for him means living free, here in the USA.
...and then there's Imelda
Living in a poorer land, she never has enough.
What she needs is food and drink, forget that other stuff!
Sanitation, clothes to wear, and education too.
Never feeling happiness, forever feeling blue.
...pray for Imelda
Gaze into those dark brown eyes and tell her you don't care.
Look at her, she's begging you with pleading, hungry stares!
Suffer all the precious ones who never get the chance,
to live life as it's meant to be, a joyful happy dance.
Poetry: 'Envy'Malice and venom drown my swollen heart,
made scarred and tumorous from envy’s flame.
The poisonous fire forms a vital part
of a lethal instinct I can’t reclaim.
Born of passion, it is a lover’s shame,
Far more vicious than any holy war;
countless lives have been taken in its name.
A sinful wound that festers in my core,
hissing words of spite I cannot ignore.
Words that are spat, like acid from my lips,
Against both friend and rival, and yet the more
my jealousy smoulders, the more I grieve,
as though in vengeance, there is no reprieve.
Poetry: 'Like Death and Taxes'As each week ends, we trade five days for two,
Five days spent meandering through the grey
like trudging through thick mud, our limbs drag on
As we struggle hard not to lapse behind
the ceaseless march of the conglomerate
to which we all fall in line and accept
As each week starts, we awake in our thousands,
all simultaneously possessing
the same burning, seething ache for elsewhere,
somewhere, anywhere else but where we are.
For some, it is an ever exhausting climb
to some peak of fleeting comfort or joy.
But for those with no discernable end?
It’s an endlessly labouring trek
into an ever-retreating horizon.
They say all good things will come in good time,
but where in time is there ‘good’ to be found?
Time is a slow, malicious entity,
Cruel how it lags during moments of pain,
only to accelerate when we are joyous
as though in jealousy it seeks to snatch
the happiness for which we toiled so long.
There is no one truly content in life,
and this is a bl
Poetry: 'Rats'In dank, dim bars they swarm like sewer rats,
Bedraggled and desperate in the dark.
Necking bottled desolation in vats,
Each and every hopeless soul bears the mark,
of apathy’s lethargic touch, cold kiss.
They gather like a horde of the Undead,
Each one infected with ignorant bliss,
Unaware their freedom hangs by a thread.
They know not the power they could possess,
How much influence this swarm could exert,
How they could, in revolution, progress,
But in dispassion, they remain inert.
They never thought how rats could overthrow kings,
And thus by choice remain in darkened dwellings.
Change: Our IllusionIron clad followers
Chemical licked sorrows
Freedom is sure death
Only inauspicious tomorrows
True Passion within Hate
Malice curled within expression
Once power is the taste
Will it truly cause obsession
Corrupted and Septic souls
Old and New tyranny
Duplicate with blood and lies
Well isn’t that irony?
CII RaedchenWie vom Zahnrad im Getriebe
Wird Funktion von dir erwartet.
Bricht ein Zahn, dann setzt es Hiebe,
Gehörst zum Schrott: du bist entartet.
Genug stehen zum Ersatz bereit
Was aus dir wird? ist piepegal!
"Eigenverantwortung" wer auf der Strecke bleibt
Und alles von vorn ein weiteres mal.
Nur die aus Platin, ganz ganz oben
Dreh'n sich in Sicherheit ein Leben lang.
Posten und Pöstchen werden verschoben
Mit Beziehungen geht alles seinen Gang.
Funktionier, denn du weißt es genau-
Was sonst aus dir wird interessiert keine Sau.
Little Miss It“Do you enjoy her company?”
That, Avadaci concluded, had been the extent of his grandfather’s kindness. Thank the stars he had broken his neck after a failed attempt to ascend the castle staircase. Not that many were privy to this information. The official listing on the cause of death involved something along the lines of falling in battle after slaying at least a dozen demons, although this was treated with quite a bit of skepticism by the general populace. Yet, interestingly enough, a decent portion of the locals believed a tale about the cannibals of Unkhtom devouring him whole.
Not that Avadaci really cared how his grandfather had died. He was just glad he was dead. And if he was glad his grandfather had died, Avadaci wondered, why did he have to attend his funeral? In fact, the whole kingdom was glad his grandfather had died. Why did they have to attend the funeral?
“Oh Avad,” proclaimed his mother, “obv
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