Long Subliminal Poems
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8/29/21
A world caught up in being digital
And far too political
Full of all these imbeciles
Certain problems beyond clinical
Not so easily fixable
It's typical
To relate it toward something biblical
Need proof for the truth otherwise it's fictional
Therefore admissible
Far too miserable
People doing things that are pitiful
Humans still being inhospitable
Doing something unforgivable
Over reasons that are pathetic and inexplicable
At times it paid off to stand out or remain invisible
Did the most or my output was minimal
Used it for reasons that were or were not medicinal
As an individual
They've been so quick to treat me like a criminal
Still won even when the odds were formidable
Because I knew it's always been far from predictable
Others have always been doing things that are despicable
Leaving folks in conditions that are critical
Acting like they're invincible
Yet they'll never understand the subliminal
Since they've been cynical
I'll win the war in ways that are not clearly visible
(Part Two)
Each following generation, almost inevitably, are stuck in the same cycle.
Centuries enslaved, the product of a totalitarian government.
Delivering an impeccable system of social mind control.
succeeding almost flawless in their subliminal and cruel tactics.
Mankind the perfect subject for an unchallenged subjugation and control.
At least Hitler was clear with his plans for Germany and its people.
Our modern government deals in deception and complete lies.
Each year, they deliver millions of new perfectly trained slaves.
Trained in, and put to work doing minor and mindless tasks.
The objective to distract their minds long enough to avoid questioning.
Working them around the clock, almost straight through every year of life
allowing two weeks of vacation, for a year of unquestioned servitude
long enough to placate their desires, but too short to expose real freedom.
anything longer might risk exposing the truth hidden behind a blanket of lies
If they knew the true joy of life, an uprising would undoubtedly ensue.
So who is truly deranged, the individual described as "Psychotic?"
For choosing to express his identity, and denying to conform.
Taking the time to actually enjoy his life, and exercise his freedom
Or, the "normal" members of society, our governments good little drones.
Dying in our governments wars, fought to gain more wealth and control
Working and wasting their entire lives for the benefit of a rich few
The only real question that remains is: Who do you serve?
Key Rings
He tossed me three keys
mouthed the words “You’ll know”,
Drifted slowly away - to out of sight -
lingered to haunt my memory.
I owned no locks so thought
what use have I for keys?
These keys? Unmarked treasure?
unknown vaults, unseen need.
The intensity in his eyes,
his deliberate formation
Of the words “You’ll know”
cornered my skepticism.
Age and experience revealed
the value of the keys
Their vague connections,
subliminal suggestions.
I saw it coming – that bus
begrudgingly boarded
Tossed him three keys
mouthed the words “You’ll know”.
2/14/2016
submitted to – My Parting Gifts – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Viv Wigley
if i didn't know about you
and you didn't know me
would we have ever meet ?
was it just a twisted fate
that causes us to manipulate
i don't know ,it happened
to be put on my plate
i try to make it harder then it is
but when is it right to complicate
this passion of never being close
or always wanting to close the door
and my guilt leaving me flat on the floor
for someone who i don't know
the subliminal messages read like braille
my emotions stricken like lightning
leaving me lifeless and frail
i don't know if i can take it much longer
being beat up in a ring with a prize fighter
the challenge is getting tighter and tighter
if you didn't know me how could you find me
in this maze of hidden truths slumber
in a mind full of doubt desensitized by years of
drought and dry are the thoughts of you
Listen in,
The ultimate weapon that lays
heavy on your soul like an anvil,
they can motivate you to pursue your dreams, or
crush your whole existence and
leave you at a stand still,
there is power in them,
you can build strong towers with them,
Going as far as the imagination,
they can serve as the foundation of a nation,
or bring genocide to an entire generation,
In the beginning,
God spoke the world into existence with them,
In the 1950's, MLK, Malcolm X,
and Huey P. Newton started a resistance with them,
They can conquer all fears,
or provoke all tears,
promote life or death
as they travel from lip, to ear,
At times they are boldly profound,
but sometimes, their most powerful
statement is made, without so much as a sound.
They are the solitary confiners,
the subliminal reminders
that we are creatures of habit,
good or bad they are like drugs,
and it is easy to become an addict
In church we kneel and pray with them,
with friends we tend to play with them,
but be careful what you say with them,
because the words, we, give to others,
has a tendency to stay with them....
One.
Media Tabloid Vixen.
You seem to speak as if from the grave,
a crosswired rig of McGyverse psyops in a
disguised Ministry of Truth Museum Mausoleum.
Report with vampires of halitosis, ad nauseum.
In the dark depths of silence, where truth lies
concealed in sound-bites of sired waves,
video blade, blathe.
Gossips of falsehoods in shadows are revealed
with props in red hand.
Media, you wield power with a venomous tongue
and syphillised gland.
A serpent slithering, with deceitful songs sung with Satan's choir,
commercials brought to us by Lyre extract of Pfizer.
From screens ablaze with flashing lies
and ticker tape subliminal sparks setting fires.
To paper pages stained with compromise
and kerosene dreams.
You speak as if from the grave, a ghostly specter headlined headstone that reads
"Beware all ye that enter our trusts".
Haunting our minds with a twisted lecture,
brainwash or bust.
Your words twist and turn, a siren's call a whores fee.
Leading us astray, watching us fall
to service on our knees.
Beneath the chaos and the black noise you
fabricate then syndicate is the trampled truth altared and sacrificed upon your propaganda machine.
Lies a longing for an alternative source, a desire to set things straight from your ill gotten dis course of the insane.
We are rising up, breaking free from your chains,
"We the People" are more and more listening to
that still small voice that within us remains chaste.
For in the silence, in the stillness
we find time to discover your iconoclast idolatry broadcasts.
The power to reclaim our hearts and minds is still ours in our hands as we rip off your mask.
Touching your skin glimmering with the subdued glow
of the August moonlight suggests
that every delusive dream seems real;
if dreams don't have the glitter of stars,
one might as well close his dreamy eyes
and be carried into that world of unfeeling thrill,
only to find out what he seeks lies down below
earth that's hidden from the penumbrae that outgrow.
Do dreams glitter or remain dull?
Only reality perceives them as null,
we, on the contrary, disparage them
with subtle and virtual images
culling them from those memories
already faded into void darkness...
is it really worth reviving them?
Kissing you softly is too delightful,
and seeing you trembling
is a response so inviting;
never did such lips have the sweetness
of whispers multiplying the tenderness
of every touch so subliminal!
Do dreams glitter or remain dull?
Will fantasy transform them into something
more realistic as the senses that tickle fancy?
Are we promised that our joy will be brimful
as that cup from which we drank and felt full?
Doesn't love overflow and encourages the living
to give more without being so greedy?
Trees In Spring
Beneath the trees, gazing up, I see
Branches reaching skyward, sprouting leaves,
Filtering rays through the canopy
That cause my eyes to blink breathlessly
From the mosaic, prism colour scheme.
The scenic vista is dynamic
And pleasing to absorb spring’s hypnotics.
These vascular plants drink nourishment
And utilize the sun’s energy
In the process of photosynthesis.
The reality of perception’s direction
Persuades self-effacing resignation
From biased human disposition
With artistic interpretation.
“I pray nature forgives my trespassing!”
Trees in spring of natural beauty
Whose subliminal message I can’t dismiss.
“Human intrusion has been devastating!”
Unwarranted greed condones desecrating
Tangible living poetry in motion.
Pray masquerading hidden beauty,
Sweet innocent Princess Cinderella
She of midnight pumpkin slipper glass
For whom the ball bell's
Be spared your humble prince his
blushes of asking for your hand
and pleasure of your company
And so to please accompany me into the
banquet hall for the remainder on this
most auspicious summer evening
His Majesty quite inexorably is taken
with your strength and presence as yee
his confidence you have shaken
And he wishes to if nothing else discover
the name of said fair maiden woven into
that bespoken silken dress that grace
herself doth silhouette such blinding figure
of the number eight
If this be my kingdom i am over which to
reign then surely i duty bound as said king
should wish the fairest princess in all the lands
under my domain to take and marry as my Queen
and mother bare she and i a rightful heir to follow
the line of succession
For if the price of royal cross to bare is
duty before self then let me please this 1
concession have
Let me please for marry love and get to
choose she that which doth my heart desires
with a wanten passion worthy of an endearing
romantic fairytale ending where the protagonists
end up growing old together gracefully
So come the when the clock after
the bewitching hour of midnight 12 o'clock
strike shall you not be with a but slipper
left to seek you out once more
Rather we dispense with pleasantries and be not another
further single we a second lost just incase
either of you and i be in both in a state of
wistful dreaming
Only to be told my unconscious subliminal Julliet
was in reality to be in fact an unassuming passing
stranger terminal cancer patient who choose to spend her final moments reading
Shakespeare's Romeo and Julliet to me whilst i was
in my coma
So when in fact or if indeed eventually i was to
awake the time i lost could be permeated
by an empathetic soul by the voice of
an angel
Falling victim only to be branded with the mark by one of life's cruelest of intentions better to have loved
and lost than never to have loved at all
Subliminal Kind
-Follow These Orders-
1.) Chew gum and walk
2.) Do what they said
3.) Say prayers at night
4.) Religion is dead. Keep it from your head
5.) Eat crackers in bed
---- I know your kind---- But never mind----
---- Sublime incongruities rise---- Follow these orders or die
The Response
There must be something more within existence
Something more than simple cause but I forget
1.) Chewing gum and walking are so complicated
2.) I can’t remember what they said, so I can’t do what they said
3.) What if I say prayers in day light? Will I be struck by lightning?
4.) If religion is dead, should I pray, again, for lightning?
5.) I have no bed. I have no crackers or gum. Maybe some other time I’ll follow orders given from above.
Only five rules, only five commandments.
I should follow them to the grave.
If only I had something to be saved