His plan to run for presidentis to trick them into thinking he’s the best they can get.
His campaign call is to build a wall, claiming without it, the country will fall.
He sings a song to lock the doors, with a refrain that says, "Let in no more".
However, give the key to those who look like me.
He says, that campaign will work for me.
He’ll plant no seeds of hope and care, but place acres and acres of tares and despair.
Adding to his song a chorus:
“The way to maintain peace, is to ban the Middle East"
A catchy phrase that's bound to amaze.
Keep them singing and they will miss the true meaning.
When the singing stops, he will have done his part, and found his seat where Barack use to sleep.
The hell with trade, listen to him and we've got it made.
The way to win the race is to point fingers, and claim disgrace.
Experience and accomplishment does not a president make.
It's all about the money; don't you get that yet?
It's slight of hand and misdirection.
To the Oval Office is where he’s meant.
Make no mistake he’s headed in that direction.
An investment in his own future is the end in all of this.
If a few of you can sing his song and follow along, jump on the bandwagon and sing the daylong.
If you don't know the words, fake it, it’s usually how he makes it.
Just remember one simple trick, pick a group, doesn't matter who, make them the bad guy, doesn't matter if it's true.
It's good to have to deflect off of you.
Add them to the song and keep singing along, with a catchy beat, he will never meet defeat.
Please lock the door behind you!
Been feeling pretty uninspired,
The irony my life has been spiraling,
Taking notes about my meditations and dreams,
Going back and forth with myself 'it isnt what it seems'
Even now, writing but not feeling the words,
'How do I feel, how do I feel' no adjectives, no verbs,
To describe my daily illusion,
All the sick as fuck things ive been doing,
These thoughts and white bitches ive been consuming,
Jesus make me believe in you again,
I wanna believe my future could change if I could just see the light through you again,
These crystals around my neck are heavy but im not grounded,
Obsessing about all of the things around me,
Be mine, someone,
Ive lost my contentment,
If I dont feel another body against mine soon I might betray my commitments,
Light eyes give me hope,
I hope she never reads this,
Im an alien, on a terrace, just standing for what I believe in,
These silly words,
These silly words just giving you feeling,
I have none,
Empty but filled with so much expression,
The church would say your blessed and,
You are satan, for including your love for a woman within the same statement,
Im rambling now,
Lucifer the gardian angel of mine who wears a crown,
Send me down a blessing from the sky,
Perferrably a bitch with nice tits, pink lips, and a smile as sharp as a tooth pick,
Make her love me unconditionally even when im acting stupid,
Unconditionally even when im disillusioned...
Oh, and send me a bag of money.
Our lives are seen as tragedies in the present which are viewed as comedies from the outside looking in and as satires by those beyond our time
Realization of the bigger aspects of life is usually a hard thing to comprehend
The realization that individually our lives are an arbitrary existence
A tiny little insignificant speck in an ever evolving planet within an infinite universe
What often matters is what we do with this knowledge
Choose to accept it and leave marks for a generation to be in awe of or reject it due to some misplaced sense of superiority and piety.
A coping mechanism for those who accept it is to believe in something bigger than themselves and what is greater than a man than death.
Life after death
Rebirth after the mortal coil shuffles from the earth
Despite the little iota of realization of our insignificance, a choice to believe one thing is apparent, that our frustration is a thing we can channel, and put it into something we can quantify and qualify: ourselves
We develop niches and avenues of self-hatred based on differing ideas that are quite similar in the long term
We fight, rape, pillage and kill over race, religion, resources and imaginary revenue
We seem to be proving that we are doomed to repeat our past failures
We make the same mistakes not become we are ignorant of the past but rather due to pride
The stain of pride and elevated egotism controls and convinces us that we have we have progressed so much that the transgressions of our forefathers are very well beneath us
we decide that they had no control over their destiny and were just tools for us to commend ourselves on how far we've gotten
The sardonicism of the situation is that we commit the same errors for future generations to look upon mockingly.
They will institutionalize our errors as we do with our forefathers and vow not to repeat our mistakes unaware of the fact that they are nesting in the gaping maw of pride
It is beautiful, isn't it? How everything changes but not us.
How the world continues to turn but we are stuck at the crossroad between mistakes past and atrocities future
Don't you see them pointing? Can you not hear them laughing? Do you honestly not see their tears?
Al these emotions from those not yet born.
Can you not feel the studios glazed over eyes of a people doomed by our avoidable errors
The future seeks to emulate the past that should have never been discovered
On the day before yesterday,
Prior to my timely demise
I was carefully weeding
My garden of lies.
And what a garden it was,
An eden of grace,
Every slipperwort slouch
Deftly tucked in its place.
Every bristle and blight,
Every maddenwort lysp
Fighting the cockscomb
And dragonsheart wisp.
Every weed that I pulled
Shared an echo or two,
A small little lie
I did not know I knew.
And they laughed as they died
Underneath the pale sun.
They caught their last breath,
Every wee little one.
For they had run their due course.
Their fruition complete.
They'd never laxed in their
Curious web of deceit.
They worked out so well
I'm reminded each day
Of a tale of a tale
I once sent someone's way.
They'll mention it briefly,
And I'll recall it, in jest.
There is always one story
I embellish the best.
A meretricious concoction
Of diddle and dodge,
With a devious twist
Of some hodge and some podge.
There was no plan. of course.
No agenda. No design.
I'd simply crossed that one
Final, indelible line ~
It was an innocent moment,
On one innocent day,
A question was asked.
I did not know what to say,
So I spoke a wee nothing,
And that wee nothing grew,
Until it grew 'near as grand
As the ocean is blue.
And, as you well know,
Each tale begets a tale ~
Until the cistern is full,
And the rot starts to smell.
To fester and fume
In their putrid decay.
So we sweep them discreetly,
And brush them away,
And bring in another,
All shiny and new,
To do what the old lie
Could no longer do.
But a garden like this
Requires care every day.
Lest a lie wrangle free
And then run off to play.
Because, they'll get away from you,
And that's never good.
You ought keep a lie
Safely tucked where it should.
Every foibling fib,
Every drained dusty briar,
Ought be pulled by the roots
And tossed into the fire.
For it has met its foul end,
And it is time to move on.
There is no use to coddle
What is already gone.
A sly fabricator
With plans to succeed
Plants only the best
From his bounty of seed.
So, carefully tend to your
Garden of Lies.
Be prudent, be cautious,
Leave no room for surprise.
And share your lies wisely,
For they think themselves true.
And beware, for some lies
Can come back haunting you.
And the very best ones
Almost always do,
Copyright © MMXIV Richard D. Remler
"So hot headed,
but heavy is the hand
that is kept from raising.
being how soft
the surface below
it would fall upon,
it is al and well
no hand was raised,
but there is no praise
for such common sense.
make for comics
and comical accusations,
life's a joke
so sometimes I laugh at it,
but this time around
I keep frowning.
So here it is,
laid on the table
the meal made,
with much forethought.
And in the end,
all it causes is heat,
no use for a cooler,
all around fire is sprayed
and it keeps trying
skin not lit.
Whatever the reason,
be it power or to tower above,
stepping in increases rage,
Within striking distance,
add more fuel to the fire
burning deep inside,
taught to never lay a finger
on the fairer sex,
but the moment tests all control,
total consequence in the rearview.
SLew of words,
which hold meaning
spoken out of love or anger,
babble dipping into ears
is all tuned out;
been inside my head for hours
So you go,
but not before raising your own hand,
no pain felt with the blow,
no weight to it.
But damned if the point isn't realized,
asked to leave
only to come once I'm gone,
leaving my abode vandalized.
An anger so roasting
kept cool with a conversation
with a friend,
longboarder, car hoarder,
keeps one in check
before diving into a bitter
The bitter look
thrown with an intense glare
with one more pass,
feeling sick to the stomach,
but if one wants,
I can be more specific.
Penurious of kindness,
parsimonious of respect."
He who stays with the truth,
Even if utterly insulted by the bad,
I cannot but salute him from the heart,
The universe is with him being glad!
Alas! Such souls are outcasts,
In this modern age,
A matter of shame it is,
I feel thundering rage!
When will the time draw closer,
For the truthful to shine as the shiny star?
With words I try to find the best approach
To quell my love from wav'ring, wond'ring thoughts
But as she hold to them as if their coach
I find loves messenger remains unwrought.
O if my words could cut them like a sword
Then thine own pesky thoughts may then cut free.
To draw the balence of my loves afford
Becomes a bitter risk, I fear, to me.
Will not then truth proceed her way to light?
In newest phrase shall then my heart come through
And prove my souls perpetual delight
That you may have such knowledge ever true.
In all there is just one thing to be told.
Your hearts the only one I wish to hold.
That object with which we our walls adorn,
It hang s in every room and comes in many a shape and form.
The deceiver of youth and to the old a harsh truth
The revealer of age lines and grey hairs
Look closer my dear there’s the proof
I turn to you from a different angle to see if you’ve anything to say
But nothing contrary to the image from that previous day
Smooth, silver and exact no truth you disguise
But show only the facts and tell me no lies
But sometimes even the truth is hard to take in
So I run out the room vowing never to gaze upon you again
But in the end vanity always wins
And here I am once more standing
Before my honest and reflective friend
The connection was rough,
Big thoughts every night,
Tear drops every fight.
Is he worth it? Will it work out?
A lot of things running in her mind.
Second thoughts were being considered.
A year has passed and they’re still strong;
Thousand miles connection, is it successful?
One day they will hold each other,
Never wanting to let go.
No one knows what the future holds,
Live for the moment is what he said.
Trust and faith from one another
Can be a big improvement for their future’s sake.