They Can't Hang Us All

we are many, we are great

In a sentence that continues something like....

What you kill things with,

How we see you conditionally.

And of pride and sedition?

Honest admissions

Blatant confessions

I am a son of this flag

But I feel indentured

Kind of like a type of handcuff

A certain brand of "i'll keep you here"

You need me now, you will need me then

More than ever if I've said it once I will say it again

This whole endeavor, it seems like I'm drinking chasers

Before the alcohol

I'm not supposed to be this way

It gets easier after, still

The order does matter

This is how to avoid mass social disaster

You must bleed

The purge of fast food

On tv between advertisements

The real pollution

Has nothing to do with the f*****g.

We can f**k

Environments outside of mind

Not this pool of incestual ideology

And this subtle nasty

Coercion based ancestral biology 

I see now perhaps it's mildly faulty

Upon further inspection

Becoming the simulation

We could be mistaken

And I forgot what to say

Under pressure

And at night

Away from you

I just want a sandwich

Maybe one for my friend?

We sleep in the most pleasant of dead ends

Where we are safe

Among dead friends

 Among the men who've lost that need

To pretend

Those who remain sober under ether

The hardened, the brave... the living end's

Those who can live and die without shame.

As you were.

Reviews

[TL Boehm]

You are singing the song of my people. Coercion based on ancestral biology. I just want a sandwich. SMH.
I study my family history - for so many reasons only relevant to me. There was a dancing plethora of genetic sludge. Still is. And now I am inundated with more crazy. I'm not a smart person. I'm just intellectually skewed. And though I try to understand. I just want a sandwich.
Found the poem linear. Logical and with little end rhymes that were mechanically wonderful.

[Davidgeo]

Thanks. I meant to fix this weeks ago, now I've forgotten what's wrong with it. There is something very wrong with it I just can't put my finger on it at the moment.

[freemantle]

Morning numbnuts.

See you're still churning out crap and still mostly getting ignored.
You're either thick skinned or simply thick. x

[Davidgeo]

Still copy and pasting dumb s**t, ugh, you guys suck. ANTO, you really need to schedule an appointment with your shrink... I'm worried you might harm yourself. Don't let John Gabriel, wordman, and relic keep drawing you into this lunacy. You need to let s**t go. There is nothing you can do to me, you got caught playing your nasty game and now it's over. Let it go. Let it be over. This is never going to end well for you... you and your core group of dipshits are the unscrupulous bullies and everyone knows that. You did it to yourself. I do not pity you.

"Oh boy, ANTO's back. Are you ready to embarrass yourself again? DId Relic, John Gabriel and Wordman convince you to come back or is this a decision you made on your own? You're the only three t**d masters that do this s**t. The cancer of this café. Had you in remission for a while, looks like your back though."

[Sir Drift & Mr. Pulse]

You don't fail to impress me man. It seems as if it has no coherence or straight line but that is the moment you know how to piece it all together.

[Davidgeo]

At least one of us can. I'd do more stuff this poem but I forgot what about 1/3rd of it means or, was supposed to mean anyway. It reads nice though doesn't it? I keep talking about remaining sober under ether, I think it has something to do with the simulacrum. Or something about remembering why we do things, and how it's not such an easy task, sometimes an unreasonable one. There was something else I'm sure, I've forgotten though.