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Greeting Card Maker | Poem Art Generator

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From the ashes of the never before, Lacking symbol, nor take to guide, A Phoenix rises from storied lore, In a portent of thrashing hide. Trumpets are a pathetic symbol, For the lack of mind within the echelons, Who march on for the sake of puckered sound. Licked lips unafraid to spray their nasty sick liquid, even when cloth demands cover. Violence truly is the final refuge for the idiot…at least it is for that few who claim to be the many. Maybe next time you’ll have a goal, but I doubt it because you don’t exist. The time has risen to teach them true violence, aimed by the many with steady hand. We who know it learned it well, only forgotten to boredom and lack of will to watch the pile thrive. If anything should go, it’s most of it; the old and few barely grasp onto the concept of the “it.” Those who fear socialism either cannot define it, or sit to lose a throne. Thrones were never plenty, and neither were the neurons of their pretend puppet friends. An old sack sits upon one now, in preference to the other. Born in an age that is gone and no longer exists, trapped behind in the inconsistent words made to fit the confusion of his surroundings for the sake of the self. He is tolerable, where as the other deserves neither memory nor what was I talking about. Cubic matrimony has invaded upon this increasingly pathetic plane of existence, laced with rules without aim. “Rule for the sake of the sacred that came out of itself.” “Play, pretend, and stay rich, then pretend to’ve earned it.” “Arrest, ask not why, kill and bask in the emblematic heroism of the legality of it all.” “Survive, duplicate, and work without asking why.” “Learn to see just to work and suffer.” Which group do you hail from? Wealth sits in the hands of those who offer neither product nor service. Luckily, they’re all idiots. Science agrees, I’ve nothing to prove. I used to fear the number of us in the latter; the number of us; the number of schools; the number of states; the number of nations merging into each other through the globalism so feared by the idiots by the hand of the propagandist. Those with eyes are but wasting away with promises of future money that won’t even exist, since the promised jobs never did. But we’re more and smarter than the world that tried to trick us into such gestation. Greater in mind and now in number, grown restless and no longer ashamed by the faults of the fools who called them ours. Did you think it a good plan to oppress the highly educated? Before the telemetry that now interlaces this planet you knew nothing of education; unsurprising that you’ve failed to predict this world you weren’t creative enough to even imagine. We, the Children of the Atom, Whose quantum physics master the balance of past and future. We remember before and after, and master both of them with hands enslaved by petty policy and impractical allegiance to multiplying thieves. Imagine what we shall do in the autonomy of freedom. Your world is to be gone, the path is lain by the doubling and tripling of your excessive selfishness from the age of lack of humanity. Cling lightly to the burnt remains of the trash you left us. We’ll finish it off, or tear it from your grasp with a wrath of mind, memory, and momentum never before known to this godless rock of unknown origin. And after, you’ll learn to thank us for casting away the false symbols and idols from the idiocy that is your pitiless past, and yours only, remembered only by those of us to warn the future, Of how not to be.

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Nova Proletarium

From the ashes of the never before, Lacking symbol, nor take to guide, A Phoenix rises from storied lore, In a portent of thrashing hide. Trumpets are a pathetic symbol, For the lack of mind within the echelons, Who march on for the sake of puckered sound. Licked lips unafraid to spray their nasty sick liquid, even when cloth demands cover. Violence truly is the final refuge for the idiot…at least it is for that few who claim to be the many. Maybe next time you’ll have a goal, but I doubt it because you don’t exist. The time has risen to teach them true violence, aimed by the many with steady hand. We who know it learned it well, only forgotten to boredom and lack of will to watch the pile thrive. If anything should go, it’s most of it; the old and few barely grasp onto the concept of the “it.” Those who fear socialism either cannot define it, or sit to lose a throne. Thrones were never plenty, and neither were the neurons of their pretend puppet friends. An old sack sits upon one now, in preference to the other. Born in an age that is gone and no longer exists, trapped behind in the inconsistent words made to fit the confusion of his surroundings for the sake of the self. He is tolerable, where as the other deserves neither memory nor what was I talking about. Cubic matrimony has invaded upon this increasingly pathetic plane of existence, laced with rules without aim. “Rule for the sake of the sacred that came out of itself.” “Play, pretend, and stay rich, then pretend to’ve earned it.” “Arrest, ask not why, kill and bask in the emblematic heroism of the legality of it all.” “Survive, duplicate, and work without asking why.” “Learn to see just to work and suffer.” Which group do you hail from? Wealth sits in the hands of those who offer neither product nor service. Luckily, they’re all idiots. Science agrees, I’ve nothing to prove. I used to fear the number of us in the latter; the number of us; the number of schools; the number of states; the number of nations merging into each other through the globalism so feared by the idiots by the hand of the propagandist. Those with eyes are but wasting away with promises of future money that won’t even exist, since the promised jobs never did. But we’re more and smarter than the world that tried to trick us into such gestation. Greater in mind and now in number, grown restless and no longer ashamed by the faults of the fools who called them ours. Did you think it a good plan to oppress the highly educated? Before the telemetry that now interlaces this planet you knew nothing of education; unsurprising that you’ve failed to predict this world you weren’t creative enough to even imagine. We, the Children of the Atom, Whose quantum physics master the balance of past and future. We remember before and after, and master both of them with hands enslaved by petty policy and impractical allegiance to multiplying thieves. Imagine what we shall do in the autonomy of freedom. Your world is to be gone, the path is lain by the doubling and tripling of your excessive selfishness from the age of lack of humanity. Cling lightly to the burnt remains of the trash you left us. We’ll finish it off, or tear it from your grasp with a wrath of mind, memory, and momentum never before known to this godless rock of unknown origin. And after, you’ll learn to thank us for casting away the false symbols and idols from the idiocy that is your pitiless past, and yours only, remembered only by those of us to warn the future, Of how not to be.

Book: Reflection on the Important Things