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Look at this perfect puppets,
Their perfect masks,
Their perfect body,
Their perfect feelings,
Their perfect life,
Everything is broken!
Look at this broken puppets,
Their broken masks,
Their broken body,
Their broken feelings,
Their broken life,
Everything is perfect!
RipHearken not to the words
Of the beauteous, ungodly saint,
Or linger like a swimmer
In coagulating paint.
Sharpest nails scrape the night.
Perfect cuticles in your day dreams.
Has all been lost?
There are many things that may be found,
Like insects, wormlings
But that sound...
It infiltrates the sodden ground
To penetrate the coffin bound.
The saint sings on,
Drowning out Nirvana.
yet so ungodly.
Tinkling notes can fill my soul,
but won’t touch it
Have no illusions
- What you cannot attain
Never truly leaves.
Welcome HomeWelcome home
Breath laced with dust of sales,
Turn up the thermostat
We know it’s safe no matter what they say.
Those who digress: for money –
Our attack, defense –
It’s different, what we do –
Fix all we lack
with money, cash and power
or clear the way for others
Here we are and here we will remain
as the image fills the frame
Script and scene, to entertain –
lobotomized for scripted speech:
Honored, glamorized are each
Here we are, with poison speak
Starts to creak on axis.
E. I'm Mad as Hell and I'm Not Going to Take it AnThe entertained are weak minded. I'm starting to think maybe we're addicted to entertainment. Feeling sad and low? Hard day at work? A little stressed? - First thing we collectively do is find the
couch and turn on the TV.
No doubt, a marvelous piece of equipment... but there's a screaming child inside of you that wants to stay up late, want to see just five more minutes....! Inject me right here, gimme five minutes
Ooooooh, I lay down, mind somewhere else, time passing by, doing laps around me like I'm stoned stupid. E, it's so damn good, it'll make you stupid..
It'll make you stupid for hours, it'll make you stupid for a lifetime
center of wrong
of the singular
+ skin around
and in them
the internal distortion
of etched images
Blinded By FaithBlinded By Faith
At the dawn of man
He questioned his world
How did he come to be?
Mythology grew at a pace
Ritual becomes a method of control
Men of power use it to force their will
Blinded by faith
You justify the hate
Religion fuelling bloodshed
In a holy war
It’s God v God
But only man will lose
Huddled over scriptures
The holy man spreads the lies
In those sacred halls
Common sense fears to tread
People flock to hear the word
Leave your brain at the door
As science fills in the puzzle
Of how it all began
You fear you’ll lose your grip
When we have no need for God
So you brainwash your children
That to question faith is w
All die kleinen Tode...All die kleinen Tode, die wir sterben, für die es keine Gräber gibt.
Das Trauertragen abgeschafft.
Zelebrieren wir das Stanzen nach neuen Schablonen.
Einzigartigkeit als Makulatur.
für die Brennöfen der Drehbuchautoren einer feinen Welt.
Kaum, dass wir sehen lernen,
fressen sich alltagstaugliche Masken in unsere Gesichter
bis wir verschmelzen-
Wenn wir lange genug in den Spiegel starren glauben wir es sogar.
Wir brauchen keine Zukunftsvisionen
wir produzieren bereits Maschinen
Ich renne, denn ich bin ausrangiert
der letzte Trauergast
der Tränen kennt
Kuenstliches Komasie wachen niemals auf
das blockierte System vegetiert
in sich verschlossen
keine Anschläge auf Milliardäre
deren nahrungstoxische Fabriken
passive Zombies züchten
Klimakollaps und Betonwüsten
auf das Versprochene beten
wird diese Not entwerfen
weitere zweitausend Jahre vom Monde
eine Welt zu erpressen?
niemand will kämpfen
- bloß warnen -
ist das Massengrab der Blinden
die niemals heraus finden
die unter Obama ihre Lobby
im Senat verdoppeln
seht ihre Taten
und glaubt nicht bezahlten Worten
die Farben des Ozeans sind menschlich
WeltenspielerWer verstehen will muss sich das Menschsein einverleiben.
Ein Abendmahl auf sterbender Muttererde
Aus Schläuchen trinke ich euer Blut, gierig aus den Herzkammern wie Schatzkammern
Mit Zähnen reiße ich das Fleisch heraus
Und knabbere an morschen Knochen wie an DNA-Strängen
Und ihr glaubt ihr hättet euch domestiziert-
Ich bin das Tier
Und schön bin ich dann,
dass ich reihenweise Herzen breche und lache
dass ich an Herrscherpulten goldene Lügen auswerfe
dass ich die Erde mit Kapitalismus tränke
ich bin der Weltenspieler
The Battle We FaceToday, there is a battle which we must inevitably face.
Unite and assemble, to fight the mighty foe!
Verily, we fight against form and thought.
We cannot desert our posts, we must be vigilant.
Xenophobia, Lies, and Hate are the foes, against whom we must fend.
Yes, it will be difficult, but if we endure,
Zion will rise, and all will be healed.
Are they so different?Twisted individuals
Burning up the world,
Consumed with a rage filled with darkness
Trying to make a better place
Struggles every day being different, shines in a light so bright
Are they alike?
Is there something in common?
They're both outcasts
Except one is more kind
The other is unknown
Both sad little children
One more than the other
But one makes more of a statement, a spectacle, a show
Both trying to get by in this world corrupted
Is it their fault when one crosses a line?
The one keeping it hidden
The other being open
Both actions ruining people's lives
One for selfish gain
The other for relie
BlindedSome say that stars rise, but
Lucifer was a morning star,
And he fell, as we all know;
Fell and fell til he hit
The ground, dazed and numb,
Swallowing his raging words.
He now rises to the dais, nervous
Worried, questioning, doubting
What he is about to do,
Rightfully so. We will learn
To hate him for this day.
His words thunder like a
Teautonic nightmare, viking
Storms, raging across the world.
He sees himself as a god, an
Aryan dream, but light - be it
Good or bad, is not darkness,
And so light will crowd out all
Else, burning, blinding, scalding.
And this is the legacy he left us
Left us hated for what he
Forced us to do, they cry, bu
Now, dear children, pay attentionNow, dear children, pay attention:
Monsters and Daemons rule the world!
Their names are Society and Conformity.
They slice your heart with their rules.
They drink your blood, your tears!
They love to kill your personality!
They inject poison in your veins
through their bitch: TeleVison!
Now, dear children, pay attention:
They want you to be polite!
They want you to be trendy!
They want you to be beautiful!
They want you to follow their (crazy) rules!
They want you to act normal!
But what normality is?
And what do you really want?
Now, dear children, pay attention:
I am the the Artist,
and I have a gift for you:
Use it to destroy your Monsters!
Use it to destroy your Daemons!
Use it to be yourselves!
Use it to be free!!!
Cammy Dee's JusticeAfter the Cameron D'ambrosio case thing I heard about, guess what?
I don't like the government, it has hundreds of flaws
Like uniting prophets into state and unjust laws
But if I really want to piss you off I've got a real cause
The whole banking system takes a big withdrawal
On our way of life, we live by pen or the knife
Office work or army, but you're void of your rights
And it'll rain for forty days and forty nights, alright
I'll look to the sky and say "I guess you were psyched"
Because I see religion tied with our representatives
I'm pensive when deciding that the problem is so evident
And we all are not happy, we're shook and tremblin
sie sagen ReformSie sagen Reform
Verschluckung der Hohen zum Aufbau alter Strukturen
Sie sagen Reform
Erstickung aller, als Konsequenz alter Strukturen
Ich sage Horrorvision
Arroganz gepaart mit Dummheit
als Raster, als Weltbild bildloser Ignoranten
Energie verbunden mit Wahnsinn
gegen Köpfe bunter Farbe
Viel zu lange Magersucht
wir verschlucken die Idealisten
Ohren hören, Nerven leiten, Synapsenentgleisung
wir merken uns die Lügen
aber wir bemerken es nicht
A Letter to SantiagoIt is quite often said
By those who are well read
“The ambitious have no friends”
But I know of a powerful pair
Who for each did genuinely care
Though they never sought amends
For their many a wicked deed
And their pursuit of naked greed
The power couple to which I refer
Have both succumbed to deaths inter
Are General Augusto and Lady Thatch
Both sought to keep workers under latch
Augusto she did highly admire
His heights she did aspire
She made light of the scale of his brutality
And made sure he had her eternal hospitality
She loved his firm resolve
His crimes she was quick to absolve
So then it was quite the pity
That the Va
The Day that Margaret Thatcher DiedI’ll tell you true, I’ll tell you why
So many are happy to see Thatcher die.
She made it her most important role
To condemn millions to waste on the dole.
So tight was the woman called Thatcher
That for decades we knew her as “Milk Snatcher”.
The nickname was apt for she was the cream
Of the proponents of Milton Friedman’s dream.
For over ten years she reigned supreme
At the head of our most divisive regime.
Her favoured title was the “Iron Lady”
Though her favoured practices were quite shady.
Her response to the trouble on Stormont Hill?
A sinister order to “Shoot to kill”
An order that
British PoliticsHave you seen the modern Tory
The one who’s ditched Imperial Glory?
And scrapped One Nation
For Market conflagration
They may be the end of England’s story
The New Labour Minister
Is a beast quite sinister
He thinks we’re fools
And uses us as stools
To rise to the top of Westminster
Have you spied a Liberal fellow
He was fond of the colour yellow?
His principles he would loudly proclaim
But know he is drowned in blame
But that’s what you get when you mellow
Have you heard of the B-N-P?
They’re as “British” as one can be
They march and filed
For a man who Sieg Heiled
From these idiots we will soon b
SolidaritySuch is our lot in this life
Oppressed under economic strife
Liberty remains just a sweet dream
In the minds of those who must toil and clean
Does it really have to be this way?
Are we condemned to sell ourselves for pay?
Revolution is an answer that totally rejects
Institutions that privilege projects
Take heart fellow workers we shall rise
You only have to Organise
Do you know the taste of the universe?One day, when you’re five years old and made out of fractured sunlight and mirror shards, you sat down on the bench of the MAX train. You’re dressed in your winter coat and boots that are too big and one of your parents has pulled your hat too close over your ears.
You’re sitting next to your mother, and on the other side is a man that smells like loneliness, something that you’ll later know as cigarettes and alcohol and homelessness. He’s crying quietly into the top of his jacket and you’re scared to look because you’ve never seen an adult cry.
The train ride goes on for five minutes, which is a lo
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More