A simple leaf unfurled himself one spring
His fledgling face beholding sun-kissed sky
Where each cloud traced a new imagining
And bore aloft his dreams to one day fly
In time he left behind such childish ways
And focused on his purpose to the tree
To harvest and consume his brightest days
And so impress the jade-clad bourgeoisie
With time he found his verdant color fade
As shriveled lines subverted youthful cast
And even dreams of flight now felt betrayed
By seeing how that day would be his last
I think about this leaf and reminisce
For what am I but such a leaf as this
8/1/2026
We’re ruled by flimsy Nietzscheans
“It’s all too human”, spoke their mentor
So they dehumanized for us
The services, forced us surrender
To the machineries that count
All that we are, and regulate
All that we could have been, without
The guidance of inhuman state
I doubt that Nietzsche saw that far
Although he prophesized decay
A boudoir philosopher
For jaded bourgeoisie, he played
A wise man’s comedy for those
Nocturnal chaps who lived behind
Closed curtains - I tend to suppose
That’s us, those who forgot to die.
War, you piece of my monotony !
Why don't you talk to my focus ?
Do you find yourself so firmly feeble
in tracing such locus,
where I nest my 'eagle' ?
Enduring your best
slowly at my behest
ain't the only slovenly spa
Resurrected by no guilt,
yet perfected by qualms
falling still short of bourgeoisie, napalms
I don't kill you poor thought
For you wish me distraught
Don't you dare push like kindergarten
Let me break my monotony first
To your down-quarks, much later..
I'll talk, then ! Slyly quenched thirst
Letting eagles fence mind
and sand define the border,
Calling ‘succinct’ the grind
and not what went harder
is that gradient all try
from the gym to the jungle, asking
where not ! why not why?
Anyway its an agony past prime
For a war, for a “monotony”
Let's argue to never fuel
another dime !
Every dynasty has its patterns
the good, the bad but mostly the ugly.
In the place you reside, you still cannot hide each trait that has aligned one by one
from father to son.
Why does the truth spill when you’re pouring the wine?
Why is that what it takes, just to feel fine?
The first drop passes your lips, it’s your favourite crime
it’s clear to see bad habits survive the test of time.
Had you hoped for different, had you tried to erase?
The meaning behind that infamous face
or did you just know, that wherever you’d go
you’d be the villain in someone else’s show?
For many years it had seemed, you had strayed from the team
took away and built new lives brick by brick
but now, being here it’s frightfully clear that your name is the one thing that sticks.
You can shine head to toe
so that we all know, you’ve infiltrated the A class bourgeoisie, but it’s blatant to see that when piecing the puzzle that once was a muddle…
you’re the missing puzzle piece, now found.
Do as you like do as you may,
revealing consequences held at bay.
Long breath of words repeated until true,
fact or fiction, there is no clue.
Depth of deception so deep,
spoken by ghouls claiming innocence.
Barefaced cruelty spawning death and despair,
decency mislaid, exchanged for a doctrinaire.
Men and women at the head of these Serpentes,
above all laws for these blamable bourgeoisie.
As always the day of reckoning will finally come
where all poisonous vipers will be denounced.
Things will be Announced!
Twenty years. Twenty years! For What?!
You crossed Russia’s border undocumented, comrade
Huh? And do you call that a crime?!
Bourgeoisie fool, you’re lucky you’re not dead
There was this Stanislav Petrov
He served at russian nuclear the submarine in 80s
He saved the world because his intuition
had told me the offense was false
he violated ORDER of command
HE RISKED HiS OWN LIFE and the POSITION
he wouldn't be subjected to rendition
by any government or any of the force
so learn AI the history of humans
the real deal the real heroes real humans
if you want help it;s there where we need you
the radiation difficult he task
at first remove from government this musk
*song s\\\
FORT MINOR - KENJI
THE SUBMARINES - You, Me and the Bourgeoisie
DURAN DURAN - COME UNDONE
The world is bleeding; anyone can see.
Red with blood it is indeed.
Oh, when from pain will we all be free?
A sickness infects the bourgeoisie
while we suffer from callous leaders’ greed.
The world is bleeding; anyone can see.
You can’t disguise wealth’s stench with sweet potpourri
when slaves to poverty are mired in their need.
Oh, when from pain will we all be free?
Hunger and disease are the sad reality.
It only seems corruption is what’s guaranteed.
The world is bleeding; anyone can see.
Oh, the misery from which so many cannot flee.
Many try to just get by yet can’t succeed.
Oh, when from pain will we all be free?
No man can offer up a good Plan B.
Only God one day will intercede.
The world is bleeding; anyone can see.
Oh, when from pain will we all be free?
Sounds a little bourgeoisie
to put on a formal sit-down tea
all dressed up with a bumblebee
As she sets up under the willow tree
it's the perfect antidote to a bout of ennui
for sweet little adorable Penelope
A couple of cookies fresh from the bakery
a french custard that's sublimely velvety
topped with a garnish of floral scented potpourri
Oh how charming and delightful to be
blessed with a child's spontaneity
and find pleasure in such simplicity
AP: 2nd place 2025
Join the Resistance
Counter the forces
that are monopolizing
contemporary societies
Fight for what is right
Be a lighthouse
for all to see
Sound the bell to
wake us all up
Question the bourgeoisie
with all of their
rules and regulations
Live outside the box- - - - -
Become an Outrider
Contemplate your actions
Make them powerful, forceful
Keep up the pressure
Don't give in
Replenish your energy
with an eye
towards the heavens
Always be peaceful with
no harm to anyone
Find the missing courage to stand,
together a crowd well endowed;
A globe in the palm of your hand,
now what we need is to get loud;
Neighbors have become divided,
no matter if either side tries;
They call each other misguided;
clean shoes never fix the wrong size;
Hastily two hands become one
within the confines of my mind;
Holding peace like a loaded gun,
just think if everyone were kind;
Imagine a coast of rose quartz
where we understand each other;
Domestics the same as imports,
we now press forward forever;
Revolution ‘Desperate’ fanned,
the bourgeoisie have become proud;
A globe in the palm of your hand,
now what we need is to get loud.
In a dumpster at a house close to me
were the contents of a home bourgeoisie.
In the night, it caught fire,
which did fill me with ire;
was gonna dive for a velvet settee!
Filled with sunny day rituals,
we are a sampling of the craft;
The bourgeoisie will call us fools,
filled with sunny day rituals;
Magical keys and safety tools,
duplicitous sides come off daft;
Filled with sunny day rituals,
we are a sampling of the craft.
Two giraffes decided to see
what the English have for their tea.
They stuck in their necks,
and each of them checks,
then ruled it was too bourgeoisie.
They
fought for
Liberté,
égalité
et fraternité
in a revolution
against royal tyranny
by a careless, selfish monarch.
On July 14th, they stormed the Bastille
in the first major act of violence
against nobles and the bourgeoisie.
The third estate, the poor, starving
watched as madam guillotine
despatched the King and Queen,
and their divine right
in a revolt
where many
lost their
heads.
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