Fight, fight, fight…

First responders, heroes, last night I did not stand

with the brave, the few, I was one

of the Many, the meek, the

PEOPLE,

ORDINARY

PEOPLE.

What are you made of, more than me?

Less? Even worse? Did Uncle call you, one of

the few, the proud, the brave? Or are you

ORDINARY

PEOPLE,

ORDINARY

many and nothing but store-bought make-to-believe

magic kits, stocked full of Rabbits, carrots, bomb shells…

Fuck a woman before you die, young man!

Fuck a man before you die, old woman!

People, ordinarily,

are ordinary people… until they fuck, or die, or

more terrifying… LIVE.

in between, a rambling

There is nothing anymore. Nothing for man, nothing for beast. Certainly nothing for God. Not for you, or for me. Nothing for them. Fuck them. They, they who took, and take… rake rake rake… the smoother sayers & the super savers, buy 2 get the 3rd at quadruple the price… is this what the game turned out to be? Ass kissers & bullshitters & magic wands made of government stamped paper, guaranteed for life… WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU READING, MAN? FUCK! WAKE THE FUCK UP! They have stolen it all, all the value & the love & the miracles… now its all fuck-suck CEO 401(k) packages… petty-ass nonsensical undermining’s…  e-mail audits & credit-score-checkers & lifetime memberships… we are not human beings, we are spiritual beings confined to a human experience… and as we walk, more and more and more as the sidewalks pass, the Satanic experiment is revealed… soul plucking demons…  easy access…

Who is left with a head on their shoulders?

As long as you find 1 in a 1,000,000, keep finding, searching & hurting… never abandon the fight. We (not they) might not overtake their systems & networks & wi-fi… but we’ll get the knickety snickety  little bastards over soul. Soul Power. That is the crusher, the reason why George Clinton could smoke paint & Charleston all over the stage… still selling tickets… the reason why magic sticks onto us, and not the meat-freaks out in market.

HDW

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