My Flag Pharmakon
My flag pharmakon.*
My flag made of the cheapest of China's materials.
My flag made in honor of angered spirits twisting and turning in crucifix fields.
Wrapped knotted strangling my constitution's pride.
My flag making a ruin of my native wilderness polluting it for play money.
My flag tucks in and tightens, bribes and corrupts my culture and jails and vilifies those that champion their rights, my fight.
Torture terrorists torture terrorists torture terrorism torture.
My flag fights with my journalists and artists and demands their dishonesty and threatens authentic integrity with punishment.
My flag's authority trumps vitality and the skies sleepily darken.
My flag bundles our fighting men side by side and ties them to terrorism in foreign lands.
My flag spreads wide to cover up military rape to uphold its glory seekers warped self image of good deeds.
My flag drapes blue courage over the shoulders of well armed cowards vying for sanctuary.
My flag's position on the flagpole is determined by a dictator instead of a conscientious community.
Our flags at home could not be more false and transparent.
The more ashamed I become of my country the higher the waving flag.
The more glamorous in high definition the recruitment's glory, the more shit they talk on George Washington.
The more they dishonor the founders the higher they wave that flag.
They raise it up while we lose our grip. They take away what it stands for till we can't stand tall and reach it. They put it beyond our grasp and sadistically celebrate our need of it.
I will not pledge my allegiance.
I accuse malfeasance to the flag of the divided states of freedom, segregated states of thinking, this hierarchy of enslavement called citizen-subject-slave-ship, under a new world order.
Terrorism is the policy we're 'subject to', 'a party to.' That these two parties do.
Their policy boys inflicting their violence monopoly on Sovereign men discriminated against by uninitiated yet indoctrinated nationals intoxicated with authority taught to hate liberated behavior.
Sovereign men against gang initiations fending off unaffordable freedoms.
We are not your enemy.
I'm aware this flag represents the sacrifice of my ancestors. They didn't sacrifice for this.
It's a terrorist threat flown over conquered and unconquered lands around the world.
It's a white flag of lazy surrender behind bars propping up hollywood's wrecking ball stars.
Blood, guts, and glory, the only price for freedom is the blood we spill holding our perverted joysticks.
It's a brand of opportunity. Costs for captivity. Leave if you dare xenophobic nationalism.
The more terrified I become to fly my flag upside down, the more justified I become in retiring it.
Never has there been a more welcomed friendly fire than for this flag to mercifully retire.
I loved this flag. This is a funeral pyre.
Wikipedia “A pharmakós (Greek: φαρμακός) in Ancient Greek religion was the ritualistic sacrifice or exile by the sorcerers of a human scapegoat or victim. The victims themselves were referred to as pharmakoi and the sorcerer was referred to as a pharmakon.[1] A slave, a cripple or a criminal was chosen by the pharmakon or sorcerer and expelled from the community at times of disaster (famine, invasion or plague) or at times of calendrical crisis, after being given pharmakeus or drugs by the pharmakon or sorcerer who was a practitioner of pharmakeia or pharmaceutics. It was believed that this would bring about purification. On the first day of the Thargelia, a festival of Apollo at Athens, two men, the Pharmakoi, were led out as if to be sacrificed as an expiation. Some scholia state that pharmakoi were actually sacrificed (thrown from a cliff or burned), but many modern scholars reject this, arguing that the earliest source for the pharmakos (the iambic satirist Hipponax) shows the pharmakos being beaten and stoned, but not executed. A more plausible explanation would be that sometimes they were executed and sometimes not, depending on the attitude of the victim. For instance, a deliberate unrepentant murderer would most likely be put to death.”
Dog Tags
If you love someone set them free. Set them on their own free from means and wealth. With a masculine urgent disregard for their health. Mandatory suicide after indoctrination receipt. Trade in their hopes for memories of hell. Climbing and clinging to their glorious uselessness. I don't count till I'm counted. We'll honor them only as dogs that were game. Son don't you dilly dally. Wait too long to become a man it'll be too late for us to pay attention to you. You haven't lived till your hands are covered in blood. Don't go untrained. Unfree dogs pissing on my perfect perpendicular lawn. White picket fences surrounding poison soaked yards. You mongrels ain't welcome lest you bought yer' own plots. Just lazy, just unambitious the whole lot. Predictable and proud are said to be few, dogs worth their breeding with numbers stamped in tin. Little white crosses in line following a pattern. Without their reward they're better left forgotten nameless and rotten. Sons of bitches, beasts of burden gelded as cowards, neutered. For prosperity these stamped little tin worthless reminders. Making a line behind the podium of the good who died young, doing what thou shalt.
Dead men earned their illustrious status as equals to pets left neglected and wronged, but useful for the time being lives soon to be robbed. Their legacy unarguable their sacrifices misplaced. They gave up their lives so that you could give up yours too. They sacrifice someone else's child, someone else's loved ones, such a burden boo-hoo. So proud and so brave they'll condemn all of you. Suicidally ashamed are the proud and the few. Trying to share, “We were terrorists too!” Self righteously blamed for their faults fallen through. PTSD means they're crazy disregarding them easier to do. Consider them all losses too. It was the enemy's fault. All to be good dogs thanks for your service - animals. That's a good boy. That's a good dog. One half of one percent of them put their boots on the ground easily ignored because these dog tags piled up for so long. Gaining in worth seem these pop can medallions, those who survive are unwanted freeloaders. Not part of your forefather's wars you could win, these soldiers today maintain wars without end. Veterans aren't worth as much as back then. Support the troops. Follow the trend. The troops shall set your fee.
Suicidal Soldiers Suffering Shame
Thank Them Trusting Terrorism Thoroughly
Operation Ominous Overwhelming Orders Occurring Openly
People Popularly Providing Peer Pressure Punishment & Programming
STOP
A Sacrificial Father
I don't have a kid, but if'n I did
I'd tell them a story about the lie of glory.
True sacrifice isn't to kill, it's being willing to die.
That if come recruitment time you hear that old line,
Your old parents could die if you don't make someone else's cry.
Just spit in their eye and tell those terrorist fuckers your ol' man says hi.
Untitled
Bite the pillow I'm goin' in dry.
Fuck what you heard terrorists wear ties.
Your representative's promises ain't blowin' no minds.
Big media's message pry's open every divide.
All's well on the home front just vote and everything's fine.
War all around us though, war all the time.
We are joystick warriors and masturbating spies.
The rest of us suspects potential slaves for modernized crimes.
Each bed we've made an American dreamer lies,
is a sacrifice we offer of our fortunate son's lives.
Let's Elect Our God.
Idol worship democratically into a united state of mind.
We'll choose one that we can look at, someone suitable.
We'll choose one that speaks ordinarily. One whom we're willing to listen.
We'll choose the one that tells us what we wish. Someone to satisfy our souls to question endlessly.
We'll choose a fellow friendly sinner. Someone who can achieve anything, so that our imaginations can run free.
We'll choose one that presides above good and evil. One that doesn't tolerate or forgive dissent.
We'll create our god draconian held on high from the very lowest of the low.
We'll choose one that cannot be denied. One that doesn't believe in us.
So in a firing line we stand together armed.
Such that we are not so burdened by virtue,
while we fire at the tied and defenseless,
claiming that our dishonor was forced.
We had no choice. We elected our God.
So that our existence is meaningless innocence.
All our freedom within worthlessness.
All our value is whore's rent.
All will fall, in line.
To hell, with them.
It's an ancient lie that idols are objects.
Idols are people that we elect to be our conscious God.
Stuck in a peer group purgatorium.
