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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Adult · #2013139
This is what girls can do to you.
Welcome to the lands of smog and pollution;
choking our very souls
With plastic dreams that swirl
Out of pearlescent oils into our hands.
Our jukebox journeys are forever accompanied
By generic music that excites the soles of our feet
But not of our hearts as we beat beat beat
Along the street to work, from work, just work it.
Challenge nothing that you see or hear or feel;
This is the musical message of the man.
We see the world in high definition,
We project our lives as silver screen.
We describe the action
“Totes made toast”
And drama
“Omg she’s such a bitch”
All this at a screen near you
You will be on the edge of your seats.
You will never stop looking at the screen.
We soon discover that nobody likes you,
You are not famous
And the current status of your life is stuck
In a monotonous tone of nothing,
Beeeeeeep
You censor yourself
And you realise you are no one
If you are not a slut
And you do not go on holiday
To places where you reveal your tits and ass,
And your nipples and cunt don’t squeeze
Through the erotic lie of your bikini
So that we can dream of fucking you.
We wipe away tears as we come
Into a state of virtual non-existence.

Share with us all of your shiniest memories,
Your new car
Your new Ipod (white)
Your new Ipad (black)
Your new Camera
Necklace, look how it shines,
Your hair’s been cut
A picture of your food, it looks spoilt rotten.
You’re in a better place than I am.
You share all this but hide
Your skidmarks
And the rash on your cock
And the time you thought of your sister
Whilst you poked your girlfriend.
You hide your insecurities behind your wealth and
Blindfold your “friends” from you.
You are not free, but the richest of slaves
And you buy more chains
So that everybody knows that you
Are more of a slave than they are.
Your chains are the white headphones of your ipod,
They are they jewels around your neck
And the silver of your watch
(You’re chains even make sure you are never late!)
Your owner is a harvester of men,
Not super-human, but post-human!
He has blinded you to your fate and
You no longer struggle.
You volunteer your wives and children
to join his workforce,
No! They volunteer themselves
And are happy as long as people think they are happy
And are only sad in a vague and interesting way
And never really sad because they are never hungry
Or cold or dying and the only loss they’ve ever suffered
Was when their new phone
fell in a toilet (so message me on here)
as they tweeted about
How much fun they are having in the club
And how totally wasted they are
So that everyone stuck in their homes
masturbating and Watching quiz-coms
knows they are missing out
And their life isn’t as meaningful.
There is no inferiority, just varying levels
Of superiority. There is no dislike, but indifference.
He is more witty,
more sexy,
more concerned about equality,
more aware of third world issues.
He is so damn relevant right now-
that is why he has 976 friends,
and you have a mere 634.

You live in fear; you watch, shocked
As people attack your master,
You condemn them for taking the very objects
They are told they need.
Enjoy
Just do it.
Have it your way.
Have you ever had a bad time in Levi’s?
Just do it
Just do it
Have it your way
There will be no revolution!
You are afraid they will remove
You from your pretty things
And show you that you need but
meat and water to survive.
In prison you must share your Playstation
And you cannot share that
Your food has a hair in it.
Just wait until you get out
And you can have five of your own.
An Apple a day keeps the doctor away.
Apple will diagnose
Apple is the tablet that will cure you
So that you can die of cancer
Like everybody else.
Nothing is certain but life and taxes,
But cancer is inevitable, if you do not die of cancer,
You’ve died but a child.
Your favourite celebrities have cancer.
You can be Kylie or Lance and everyone will respect you.
It immortalises you, you can do no wrong;
You have consumed your body to death,
And you’ve already experienced heaven,
You helped to create it.
It isn’t Microsoft, it is vast and hard.
You will die breaking your back for little pieces
Of Rockafella’s fortunes, you are a negroe slave
In this perennial corporate America that is no
Longer restricted to the land across the sea.
America is England
It is the United Kingdom
It is Europe
And Asia.
America is even China but don’t let them know.
America is White and Black and Brown
It is warm and furry
It is smooth a scaly,
Tall mountains and broken glass.
It is the sky and the night,
Not shooting stars you see but jumbo jets
Transporting slaves from the conquered globe.
You are the negroe slave freed in none
But your own mind.
Free to work hard
Free to submit
Free to pay in order to live.
Life is so expensive, why buy it
When you can just take it?
“La tierra esta la notre.”
“La tierra esta la notre.”
“La tierra esta la notre.”
“La tierra esta la notre.”

The earth belongs to us.
And like our hearts and brains and mouths we
Succeed in ruining its potential.
We will not be happy until we are photographed,
Sat on a golden desk chair, with a world wide
Web of lies at our feet, and a billion “likes”.

You smile through the smoke screen
Of pollution and irreality, no! Hyper-reality!
Now that I am gone you can love me even more,
You can show everyone this love;
And they do not.
We kiss and fuck only in public,
And privately no more.
We fuck in forums, and you get so wet
When you’re sat on my Facebook,
Screaming, “I LOVE YOU!”
We don’t even have to touch
And this makes you happy.
Xxxxx
Xxxxx
Xxxxxxxxx
Xxx
Xxxxxxx
Xxx
Xxxxxxxxxxx
Xxxxxx

Look how much you love me.
My face is prettier on your screen than it ever
Was up close.  And my cock is bigger
And I’m much nicer
And I only ever have fun
And now everyone can see how real I am.
How perfectly pixelated I’ve become.

You live alone with your money
In your capital city
And you are in love.
You love money
You need money
You need things
And brands
And slogans
And brainwashing
Please brainwash me.
Steve Jobs is your Jesus
He is your prophet and he brainwashes your feet.
He took a giant bite from his Apple of knowledge,
He knows more than God!
More praise,
More influence,
More power!
This poem is long
I wish there was an ad-break.

You don’t masturbate
or have a fuck buddy
For me to be jealous of,
But a pay-pal
With just one click you can buy new things
Shiny things
That make you happy in a way I never could.
I should have given you more stuff.

I gave you comfort
And care
And love,
And I made you come so hard that you nearly cried
But when you checked the value of all that on Amazon
It came to nothing
You bought a new television so you can watch
Documentaries about a rainforest
Which gets smaller so that you can watch
Documentaries about a rainforest
And wipe your asshole clean
And never have to go and see it for yourself
Because someone has done all the exploring for you,
And how would you wipe your ass?

Watch in horror as I rip this paper in half
And feel sorrow for the spending I have lost
I will not know the salvation of passing my paper
To another poor human being so that they may
Also pass it on, and on on on until it finds its home
In the pockets of the rich where it will reside for all eternity.
Paper is for beautiful poetry sharing
It could be beautiful. Even ugly poetry
Is more beautiful than death and cold metal.
Beauty is reduced
To pretend tits and lips,
hair that belongs to other animals
And long claws
the ability to
Take three cocks at once,
In one hole if you’re a real beauty.
We douse her with our praise!
You are no longer human
But a half-human, half horse hair
And plastic hybrid
With tits that go pop
And a nose that melts
Like an ice-cream
On the muddy summer shores
Of English Benidorm.

Only the whores are chastised
But they hate their slavery, and know
and cry themselves to sleep at night,
bruised, still bleeding.
You too give your body
And lend it to be abused so that rich people
Can be have their more more moregasm.
Because of this paper people are left to die.
Only money is more valuable than a human life
And there are those that wish I had torn
A baby in two
A mother
A father
Sister
Brother in two and watch as their blood and worthless entrails
Form the red carpet for our monarchy to walk upon,
(I can save your life, a one million dollar cheque
Payable to Dr. Shiny Knife)
Eternally rich and restless. The hallowed family
Which will never be torn in half
Because they are money
And by Jove I think we love them.

All of this has stolen you.
It took you with the promise
Of a good house
So you can have nice things
For your nice family
For the nice first in Public Services,
Even your degree says “slave”!
Let me tell you life is for living
For enjoying
For discovery
And passion
And love
Love
Love
And living. Open your eyes
And your mind
And your mouth
And your soul
And your arms
And your legs
And let’s make love,
And be poor
And have souls that can make
Us richer and happier than your
Capitalist dreams .
© Copyright 2014 Pandle Nen Hame (missthebeat at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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