One single death is a tragedy, a million deaths is a statistic
It can really test our Morality,
unless you are sadistic.
If you tell a big enough lie,
and tell it frequently, it will be believed.
Then people start to die,
and your goal has been relieved.
He alone who controls the youth,
will gain the future.
but in their minds, he speaks truth
so it stays a small rumor.
The man who has no sense of history,
is like a man with no ears or eyes.
His emotions are a mystery,
the people will agonize.
My spirit will rise from the Grave,
blinding with light.
It would be enough to confuse the smartest knave,
as the world will see I was right.
Small mobile manual
Device that guides selection
Of tasks on display.
L-ooking for defects,
Y-ou're inspecting the products,
N-o stone left unturned.
Topic: Birthday of Lyn Romagos (February 18)
I wish my body had a control panel; a back door that led to monitors and controls
Lights of emotions that are controlled by switches
Digital displays in the form of actions
I long to change the settings, adjust the frequencies
Disconnect some wires and reinforce others;
Rip away the scrawny cords that feed to weakness, self loathing and despair
Then, wrap the cords leading to confidence, self assurance and love in electrical tape so strong no wire cutters could penetrate
I want to flip some switches off indefinitely; hate and greed
Then, prevent some from ever adjusting; love and empathy
I wish I could control my lights and displays, I wish I could switch off negative feelings and actions I wish I was the controller of my wires. I wish I had a control panel.
A controller is one who feels the need
To always be sure their obsession to feed
There's no other way
Quite blinded I say
Their motto is, “never ever concede!”
The Remote
it was a terrible hallucination
an old hex came up of her grave
and raped me.
I was lame after paralyzing fear
she sat on top of me
and she reeked of semen from
a thousand men left to fester in the world’s
mouldy vagina.
I fumbled for my remote wanted to switch
the canal, could not find it,
then the horses came galloping through
the woods I mounted one and we were
in the pampas of Argentina,
all the while the hex hollered something
about multiple orgasms.
I found the remote and the screen was
filled with irises and sweet poems.
The Air Traffic Controller Loses It
By Elton Camp
In a job where there's lots of stress
It is all too easy to create a mess
Bob was so exhausted he flipped out
And forgot what his job was all about
He sent the same message to every plane
No longer on the ground need you remain
Every single plane waiting out there
Immediately soared up into the air
But that didn't work any too well
And the pilots in anger did yell
However, the airport was clear in a snap
The tired Air Traffic Controller took a nap
Planes fly everywhere
Aviators be aware
Towers sleeping there
His goal to totally control
Harder he tried more life capsized
Now wonders what happened to soul
Eternity reveals untold
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