Recent Journal Entries

  • Global Renewal

    by NomadMonad on January 28, 2018

    Another false prophet, another beast—
    Another peace process for the Middle East . . .
    Another massacre, a newer war;
    A bright new scarlet global whore.
    Another poem, another curse
    A further plunge from worst to worse . . .
    Another sociopathic brute,
    Another bitch in a business suit.
    Another smiling psychopath;
    Another angel’s bowl of wrath
    Another data-driven plan
    To twist yet further fallen man . . .
    A bolder data-driven lie
    As LUCIFER ascends the sky,
    Another depression, another bust—
    In MAMMON we supremely TRUST !

    partake of my wares

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  • Fake News Wets Bed

    by NomadMonad on October 28, 2017

    HEAR YE, HEAR YE:  It’s a wedding bell for bedding well while we’re crushin’ the illusion of Russian collusion! CNN wets on Russian bedding but Trump bets on Russian wedding, and you’re invited to the bridal shower. Punking the monkery, dig the debunkery; from Rasputin to Putin it’s time for some straight shootin’. Hillary looks old and glowers at Donald’s rumored golden showers. Our media owes US an explanation for streams of steaming urination, but we are willing to forgive and use their wet diapers as debt wipers. My poem’s appeal may take a toll, but let its little peal now roll:

    Tinkle, tinkle rings the bell
    A Fake News warning; time to spell
    out what was wet with Moscow girls.
    Putin’s putas?  Wisdom’s pearls
    were pried from Truth’s reluctant shell,
    banishing Hillary straight to hell.
    None. It’s what we want left over
    from this hag. We now discover
    beds were dry; it all amounted
    (all those golden tricks recounted)
    to less than a tepid bowl of kasha. . .
    Russia laughed from her summer dacha.
    InfoWars was on it first
    while Dems spun lies from false to worst,
    awarding cash for faked dossiers
    embellished with the CIA’s
    well-trained performing circus-seal.
    The FBI endorsed the deal
    as RINOS horned in on the action:
    Washingtonian distraction;
    a democrat-concocted fuss—

    . . . but we ALL paid Hillary to piss on us.

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  • Thanks, SM.

    by solvent_d on October 18, 2017

    This is x-posted from the Forum entry I just made:

    I just want to leave a note of thanks to the administrations and community who started and are keeping SM alive.

    I just logged back in last night and discovered the full list of lyrics I had transcribed over the years (dating back a decade), which not only led to me on a dangerous iTunes spree to recover all that I had loved but lost between numerous computer break-downs, but also brought back many fond memories of a thriving community back in a day when crowd-sourcing was but a notional practice without a name. Because of the many people who lend to the community their time and energy to transcribe and comment on the music that they love, the paucity in archiving/ documenting music is partially filled.

    SM doesn't seem to be as sparkly or as popular as other sites like Genius thesedays, but I really cannot think of any other sites that can quite claim to have contributed to the centralisation and proliferation of English lyrics online. I know this intimately because I see many lyric sites with lyrics ripped off from here hook, line and sinker--importing the many idiosyncracies, mistakes, misheard words and notations that SM contributors have.

    So thanks again, SM, for this amazing and wonderful resource over the years.

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  • From: ME To: ME

    by blueplates on September 28, 2017

    I scare people, they don't wanna hear it. They dont want to know, even if they ask. I'll never see you again and it won't mean anything to you but I'm going to be missing you for months. Or not at all. It's hard to say, because my humanity is just a bet. I feel everything violently or not at all with no in between. Get away while you can, because I only ever cry for myself, it's all about me, I deserve the best, the most, all. I love myself to diefication and yet somehow still violently hate myself. I'm a hedonist that doesn't deserve to eat. My hands and wrists are bony and I look at them with their bracelets and rings and I hate that I have a human form because it's all i will ever truly care about. ME, ME, ME, ME. I don't love myself back. 

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  • A Gentle Zephyr Wind of Love

    by NomadMonad on September 16, 2017

    My liberal friends, who love to preach
    who deign to enlighten and to reach
    the lower orders with their light
    to guard what’s left and set things right
    must deal with recent facts unkind
    which threaten the Progressive mind.

    Your narrative took a massive hit
    so suck it in—acknowledge it.
    Your media, misinformed and lame,
    now limping, has to bear the blame
    for polling as they hoped to hear
    leading (and speaking) from the rear.

    Indeed; you claim we won by Hate?
    in this you tend to underrate
    your sanctimonious fusillades.
    Your nemesis, against great odds
    was voted for by US, and won.
    (So sorry that God’s will was done.)
    Our diverse voters clinched the fight.
    You thought we had none on the Right?
    Hispanics? Thirty-odd percent.
    And black votes came in (Heaven-sent),
    more numerous than they were for Mitt
    so shut your pie-hole. Deal with it.
    Without them Trump could not have won;
    we’d be deprived of all this fun!
    The people did not buy the goods
    you foisted on our neighborhoods.
    And patriots now meet brand-new friends:
    political correctness ends
    when Truth joins hands with common sense.
    The truth will ALWAYS bring offense
    to smug elitist hypocrites
    and democratic counterfeits
    projecting their neurotic fears
    upon the Right. Oh the things one hears.
    We’re fascist and unfit to live
    We eat our children; never give
    a damn for the poor or a prayer for a soul.
    The “War on Women” our evil goal.
    We hear ourselves described as bigots.
    Bilious brew—and we must swig its
    bitterness in constant sips
    as insult pours from your spiteful lips.

    We’re rigid, White, misogynistic
    (my, how you wax antagonistic.
    Thought you were about tolerance
    and doing that Multi-Kulti dance…)
    We’re gender-biased (and repressed)
    unkind, unwise, uncouth, unblessed.
    What—since we don’t like Globalism,
    technoid One-World Kommunism
    we dwell in some hateful Nazi state?
    (You blather on… it’s getting late
    to re-use all your leftist smears
    which barely reach our deafened ears.)

    As young folks like to say: tough titty.
    You’re stranded outside the holy city.
    Our vast right-wing epiphany
    out-sang your PC tyranny.


    2 Comments   Read more from NomadMonad
  • I Just Found Out

    by NomadMonad on September 05, 2017

    ...that Walter Becker died on Sunday.

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  • Leave Me Alone

    by Ylena on August 09, 2017

    Hello darkness, my old friend,
    I've come to talk with you again,
    Because a vision softly creeping,
    Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
    And the vision that was planted in my brain
    Still remains
    Within the sound of silence

    In restless dreams I walked alone
    Narrow streets of cobblestone,
    'Neath the halo of a street lamp,
    I turned my collar to the cold and damp
    When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
    That split the night
    And touched the sound of silence

    And in the naked light I saw
    Ten thousand people, maybe more
    People talking without speaking,
    People hearing without listening,
    People writing songs that voices never share
    And no one dare
    Disturb the sound of silence

    "Fools" said I, "You do not know
    Silence like a cancer grows
    Hear my words that I might teach you,
    Take my arms that I might reach you"
    But my words like silent raindrops fell,
    And echoed in the wells of silence

    And the people bowed and prayed
    To the neon god they made
    And the sign flashed out its warning,
    In the words that it was forming

    And the sign said, "The words of the prophets
    Are written on the subway walls
    And tenement halls"
    And whispered in the sounds of silence

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  • Mansplain THIS

    by NomadMonad on July 18, 2017   hinting at hitting on
    intersectional hinterlands
    intersexual undercourse
    underpar for underwear
    off-course, of course
    interCIS sissiness interests
    rests a cisgender-ender
    on a bi-gender bender
    genders endanger engendering
    male delivery of femaleman
    chain letters in chain-mail maelstrom
    higher matriarchy of the mail-room
    hire patriarchal malarkey
    good knight
    and good luck

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  • Poetry Wars

    by NomadMonad on July 11, 2017

    Oh Atlantic is swell and New Yorker is gay
    and the Times remains solid, a trusted mainstay…
    but the greatest of all, and eclipsing these bores
    is the valiant field-marshall of Info Wars.

    When the dinosaur media die in the flood,
    and our nation is thirsting for globalist blood
    and what’s news is left leaning towards formula-fake
    every patriot knows: there’s a vaccine to take !

    Yes, there’s Time for a Newsweek or Washington Post
    and a glib documentary from CNN’s host;
    there’s a Fox for your henhouse, there’s Anderson C.
    with a wink for the pretty-boys on your TV—

    And of course there is Megyn (forgot her last name)
    who lined up a hot date to accuse and to blame
    but our wily commander escaped from the fray
    with the evidence taped and the hounds still at bay.

    We love Rachel Maddow. She’s pert and she’s quick
    as she bludgeons the foe with that MSN shtick
    but our Alex is scourging these media-whores:
    the intrepid commander of Info Wars.

    With his supplements ready, he’s up for the fight.
    He’s the heart of God’s own anti-globalist Right.
    He’s enraging the tyrants. He’s on to their tricks
    (just like seventeen-hundred and seventy-six).

    You can love him or hate him, support or berate
    at your peril (our own Alexander the Great),
    but please—do not misunderestimate.
    He is less a George Bush and much more a Tom Paine
    whose pure diatribes render the traitors insane.

    So we love him. He’s right. He has answered the call,
    and we are the resistance. Let wickedness fall.
    He possesses their gates. He’s unhinging their doors;
    the untouchable captain of InfoWars.

    Yes, he’s hoarse and abrasive—a cowboy with grace
    as he spits it right back in the globalist’s face.
    He’s got millions of hits for each hundred of yours
    not to mention his elixirs, ammo, and cures.

    He’s the lion of Austin, renowned for his roar
    that empowers the zoo while he’s upping the score.
    An attempt to suppress him will bring on the worst
    and his beasts will defend what his enemies cursed.

    Transnational sociopaths, bankers and thugs
    and the globalist criminals pushing their drugs
    when the dust finally clears will be scrubbing his floors:
    he’s king of the castle of InfoWars.

    If his martyrdom happens, he’ll rise from the dead
    and then multiply YouTubes like fishes and bread.
    Resurrected, revived, he’ll ignite civil war
    till you wish you had known what the Lord had in store.

    If you hate him, you suck; you’re a traitor at heart.
    Don’t belittle his gifting, his talent, his art.
    If you cannot discern what is writ on your wall
    then get out of the way. Let your empire fall.

    Do not act cavalier, or he’ll Cromwell your town
    it will only blow up if you take the man down.
    He’s our knight; come the day and the laurels are ready…
    hold back; keep your wit and your armaments steady.

    My words bestow honor where honor is due:
    on the crown of each head of the InfoWars crew—
    till his voice, with a vengeance, shall break on far shores;
    the tsunami (and swami) of InfoWars.

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  • I love the way you rearrange the alphabet

    by RosesAtSunset on June 23, 2017

    to make it say my name

    and it almost feels like

    that time I went insane

    but I always stay beneath 

    the stratosphere 

    coz of how, you know,

    you're here

    and i don't think I could handle living

    in outerspace.

    I mean, I'd rather just go over

    to your place 

    so I wrote you a lil pop poem

    coz you feel like home

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  • I am only a reflection of generic desires

    by blueplates on June 18, 2017

    The devestating truth is that some people complete themselves. You may feel like something is missing but nothing humanity has to offer can fill that empty space. People will try but even the most determined person will get tired of staring into eyes that act as a mirror instead of a window. It does make you feel inhuman after a while. Subhuman. 

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  • Say what

    by RosesAtSunset on June 14, 2017

    So today I relit the candle in my soul
    The one that lets you know I'm home
    The flame struggles wildly
    As it bears the winds of time
    It hisses and spits
    As it bears the drops of doubt
    There is a light that never goes out
    Because last time my lungs filled with smoke
    And my brain slithered out through my mouth
    And he's gone, but I'm not without
    And he's here, but I'm not yet with
    And when I fade away
    Scrape off the wax from my bones
    And let a little of me burn
    and melt in a little of you
    Do we go down together
    Or do I wait my turn
    Am I just a foreign fuck
    Or am I baby doll deluxe

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  • Music is the Spice of Life!

    by srmukherjee on May 30, 2017

    Fondness for music can stem from various aspects of a person's life. Some people use music to suppress emotions, while others use it to trigger emotions. In the Harry Potter series, penned by J.K. Rowling, one of the main characters, Albus Dumbledore, loves music. Rowling has mentioned that she imagined him to be a person who hums to himself a lot.

    Music soothes the soul, it heals a wounded mind, it reminds us of our beloved and it can cause us pain and pleasure in equal measure.

    Thus, music indeed is the spice of life!

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  • Wednesday

    by RosesAtSunset on May 12, 2017

    Maybe we both dodged a bullet
    Why does one of us have to cock it and pull it
    I had to sail against the blue current
    Of those listless, ticking days
    Is it better to have waited
    I wouldn't know
    I let go
    If it's not wrought with passion
    Well then I'd rather go without
    I guess I know
    Even when I don't know
    That I can't wait
    in fear of waiting in vain
    So I scoop up some sand
    And watch it trickle out
    As coarse bitter rain
    And the tide disappears
    Like it never came

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  • Acura RSX type S waiting for you to drive it

    by cameraguy on May 09, 2017

    Female's who like to have fun and want to try something new help me by participating in my video shoot driving an Acura RSX type S. After you learn how to drive the car properly you will get to put your foot down pedal to the metal and see what a rush the vtec engine will  give you.

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  • I Listen To Music

    by adedeji113 on May 09, 2017

    I love listening to music. I like a bit of everything when it comes to music: classical, rock, latin, a little jazz, so on. I often listen to music when I am in the office. I stream music from an internet station or other online tool. The idea is to listen to something while I am working. I listen to music also depending on my mood, and I often find that I connect songs to certain moods and thoughts. For instance, in my writing, I will at times use a line from a song lyric as an epigraph as a way to set a context or mood for the writing. I definitely love listening to music, and I think music is an important aspect of my life.

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  • Boldly Capsize

    by NomadMonad on March 31, 2017


            ⚓      ⚓      ⚓

    Name that metaphor (half-assed boating)

    Polish the brass on your life preserver

    Wring out some meaning for dockside observer

    Moorings are tenuous; life is floating.



    National Poetry Writing Month a.k.a. NaPoWriMo is over.

    An original poem for every day of April 2017 was posted.

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  • All I Need

    by blueplates on March 10, 2017

    Every single time I see my mom she finds some new way to insult me... Yesterday I saw her after work and she started going on about how I look "gaunt"... I guess it's out of love but there probably would've been a nicer way to say something than a lecture about how I'm no longer attractive. To be honest, I think I look better than I ever have. People think it's weird that I don't want much social interaction but I entertain myself more than anyone else ever has. I certainly attract myself more than anyone else ever has. I don't know how to describe it without sounding pyschotic but sometimes when I look in the mirror it's like there's more than just me there. Or maybe more like there is both I and me, and we're in love. Hmmm... I'm starting to remind myself too much of buffalo Bill from The Silence of the Lambs, I need to go take a walk or something.

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  • Misconceived Koan

    by NomadMonad on March 10, 2017

    ∅ ✿ ⚤


    as a form

    of extreme contraception

    koan:  a paradox to be meditated upon, used to train Zen Buddhist monks
    to abandon ultimate dependence on reason and to force them into gaining sudden intuitive enlightenment

    [from Merriam-Webster]

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  • Title

    by RosesAtSunset on March 05, 2017

    Hot and cold
    hot and Cold
    Pick a tap
    And watch it flow
    He asked me if I swallow
    If only my pride weren't so hollow
    "Oh how does your garden grow?"
    Why, with all these wild oats I sow!
    Throwing browned pieces of bananas at the crows
    From the sleek silver muscle car that I do tow
    A little chocolate doll bows
    Out of the throes
    Sifting through the madness
    Expelling all her woes
    Take it easy: love nothing
    Conor Oberst moans
    My love for you peels like poster paper
    Slipping down the walls of my soul
    Floating to the floor
    With all the other vanquished foes
    So it goes
    Vonnegut rolls
    Sing me to sleep
    As one of Morrissey's whores
    Castigat Ridendo Mores
    Live, Laugh, Let it Go
    You a stupid ho
    That's right,
    I let Nicki Minaj take it home
    Goodbye you limpdick bag of bones

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