Parent Thesis and Diatribe

Parent Thesis

The word was not seen

The verse was not heard

Poetry be never spoken

The Ghost Writer awaits

As Poetry’s grim reaper

What was never to be

What is present - (             )

Between the past - (

And the future - )

Diatribe

If I had to fear politics, religion, race, gender, heritage, Conservatives, Liberals, Republicans, Democrats, Progressives, Right, Left and Middle, I would be left skinny dipping naked with no ballock, nor balls to parade my ass-ets proud. Wost thou naught, satire attire a  skeleton; bear the DRAFT in that grim reaper that slayed innocence and gave mankind the War Wrath Wraith that lives forever and forever and even more in dead silent stages.  But alas I shriek aloud a Cry I am An American Word Warrior Dying, within ink stains pain dearth felt America Eagle Talons -sharpened.

I kneel, for I want to pray, for a Civilian Constitution that comes deep within Mother Earth wearing NIKE’s Thunder; asunder that I was, I was  born cradled in Earth’s mirth, from hence the seed bared love, bore within Sage Fortitude WordWorth of Liberty. Whose forks, be swords bearing words weaving a Poet’s Guardian Word Warrior Independent Creative Declaration of Acclamation. That Poet’s “WILL”, will never be silenced amidst Autocrat Abject Tyrannical Tyranny.

Now look at this face God gave, and assume it not apolitical $100 Patriot Bill, with Ben Franklin FREE SPEECH PRESS Principles, that he and Founding Fathers Won. Who will dare decide for me, who I am, who I must be – as My Master. That as a YOUNG man, I was required to join the Armed Services that Trump's wealth was able to Master evade.

That in the AFTERMATH of War my Government Drafted, then demanded, I could not write about war, and its effects, its depressions that stain the entrails within my bleeding HeArt. That I must never question, within a Veterans DD214 won Right. Saying "Thank For Your Service" – that veterans can never feel again fear, the pain, the stain, those damn depressions that eat away, and eat out one’s very existence. Do yea dare ask, a War Veteran, to be mute, made deaf and blind, as naked as a Jay Bird blankety blank death sentence.

You say Be Quiet, is that not what Germans did with Hitler? I will say this, those corpses wore blank silent stares, where hallow eyes once were once alive. Can you smell - smoking faces, can you stay quiet with all this hollow I memories? Then picture past those Indians children and women being tossed into waste pits like human made garbage in the prarie, cannot yea wail - for ever and more, “This is not America made Right. This in naught America made Left. Lord, I put a knee of Faith upon the ground, naught to vilify our nation, but to say America must heal within Golden Rule words, make proud by Veterans, who do not fear to say, we must again be United States of divergent unalienavle Civil Governance, Civilian Rights.

That since Humanity birthed its trail into eternity - Political Cain has silenced, God Able children, to make them slaves, who had to be cloned castes of silent lambs. To be made pawns, for Cain’s endless  War's Wrath bearing the Scarecrow of evermore and more tear RIP-ping out fabric into America' Red, White and Blue folded casket flags.

I BETO BEE BADD for under my bard’s cloak, I have swords made strong with word works, machine bullets strength that ricochet adrift syllables in that - I do fear “Wearing Nike's NAUGHT.”

What, We The People, sometime do not realize is that Writing, Poetry, bear the HeArt of a Veteran, who desperately need therapeutic therapy that by letting their words rake the inner core fibers, they can release those damnation depressions,wherein the dagger point penetration pierces a trail of wrought healing. That in every word’s stain of pain the Demon poison. is excommunicated.

A Politician, several friends, elected Federal officials, have held sway in power to make one a War-Torn Zombie. That Mercedes Benz said, I could not write Poetry at any time even in my own Home Sweet Home that like NFL “Prayers” Today. They owned me, lock, stock, and barrel. But does a War Veteran stay silent to then self-destruct, inside a living time BOMB. (Bring On Misery Bereavements) Being silenced deep within personal explosive destruction, awaiting that match - that blows silence into living hell being heard - Too Late.

Do you know, what speaking out costs one in America that upon the Internet one is villainized vandalized, and RAPE (Republican American Political Entry) persecuted, where emails are censored, cell phones cease to ring, your poetry and post disappear in American Chinese invisible prisons, where in America's “Thank You For Your Service,” you get Verizon No Service in Texas 512 Austin 820 exchange, where adding on Verizon four numbers, one becomes an American Dead Cell Poet phone, in Austin's Capital Texas Verizon horizon. Dare yea say, “BETO Believe, we Veterans, can be better SERVICED by Change.” Dare I say, Cruz is not a Veteran, in a state full of veterans, like Trump - rather promote a Wall.

You see, what you do not know ******, I have been made this American Dead Poet ScareCrow for a long while. That is why so many Veterans may kill themselves, because they are made LIVING STIFFS. made to be quiet Deaf Mute, and Blind in acquiescent role models that America makes US Zombies. But you see, the saw; helter-skelter kilter there in - whiter yea bee-comes, bit by bit a Veteran Living Suicide horizontal ghost writer cry. Crying alone, quaking alone, choking alone dying stains in pained linen soiled sheets

I will keep my home-r humor satire made Anonymity AnonyMouth keep bee-coming words that muck mocks the political profane swamp rat-pack cast. Wry wilt thou bare a laugh and stand up in naked comedy as an Patriot American?

Upon political pyre stench of time - let Phoenix Cremation flame - enlighten Poetry Ethereal Rhyme.

On trails with imaginary poetic Nike's, one can take that fork into that future that tread marks one’s UniQue passage massaging melodic peace refrains, amid Poetry’s meditative horizon tranquility.

In Poetic NUTS Declaration of Creative BALLS Independence – I can frankly tell one, “Where to Go.”

Yes God, let the Swamp Rats fear the MightyMouth.

(PS ******: I can write like this, to feel better about myself, knowing my Government does not give a SHIT (Service Hijacked Innocence Tits)

If put in a hole that is flooding, does one drown silent, or get some ‘Shout” S-Pain remover?

Have you used Poetic Word “Drano?” Why it clears the head, from all those clogged cemented demented thoughts. Just do not use it on the other end of your words – fore you will, for ever and more be a run on sentence, needing to go in a hole that one does say AHHH. Then say Knot Drano Again.

You see, I respond, when I sit up and do not lay down onto Silent Night Sheets of Dead Poet’s Society slumber.

Excuse my many mistakes, I am not a Republican, and my wallet says, “I am neither a Republican, nor Democratic Oxymoron Progressive.” I am this middle class Camelot Democrat worker Poet made for the Draft, made to go to War. While Oxymoron Progressive, on both sides, had the wealth and power behind them to stay safe stateside.

Thank You ****** and I am not being sarcastic for I knew your compassionate intentions. But is like when Mercedes Benz Terminated an American War Veteran for Poetry that this inspired me to keep going into the face of the Global Lion’s Den. One cannot win against a Corporate Goliath, even if my name be David. And while God made me look like a Free Speech $100 spent bill. It would take a miracle to get a Red White and Blue pair of Nike’s. But is not the American Dream a Camelot Way Past Due.

Because within Poet Tree, I can make leaf’s flutter within my poetic HeArt that inside America’s Red White ‘n Blue HeArtMosphere, I write the cerebral current leaves to my eternal salvation.

My BEE Inspired: Home of the American HeArtMosphere Poet.