Here, I am, lord of flies. Uphold law in a court of lies. It’s Sort of a divorce of kinds, When you follow your truth upstream And you find that the source is dry. Force of habit. I was gonna spare no quarter And pour some light Right on the subject and force your eyes I was gonna hold your hand to the fire, and gorge on the sight A la carte As I serve no remorse on the side It’s Fury or Flight: So, Here I am, born w/ a hand on the sword of the former, and there is a storm on the rise Tell those awake in the fourth estate that they’re a little too late. I awake, and to my surprise, There is rot in my heart, hate on my lips and decay in my eyes, Best Regards: Here I am, Honey, Lord of Flies. Lord Of Flies.

Calling every faux synthetic leftist and progressive lover Summoning the simps of all the squad-adjacent, opportunist, two-faced Copsuckers Paging every Democratic Yes-Man in possession of a smoother brain than those who hide behind the Biden Stutter Welcome to the super-edgy independent news that you can trust when we say we don’t sell our standards out like all the others Trust us when we tell you that we’re looking out for working class America. Holding all the powerful accountable. Trust us when we tell you that a host of vital truths are being covered When , honestly, the truth is being smothered. By a couple disingenuous hacks, sent to act in bad faith by big brother And start smearing every journalist who bears the credibility they covet from their gilded fucking neoliberal centerpiece Air out all their jealousy and spite like it might yield them some validity, or paint a coat of pity over all of their acidity But they’ve been busy cozied up to every war pig living between here and the infinity Albright, Biden, Obama, god, that’s gotta take the trophy for unholiest of trinities Hope you didn’t come to witness anything resembling integrity, That’s been long abandoned Now we see integrity as often as Atlantis Now they only toe the line and read what they’ve been handed Safe to say if Cenk sunk any lower he’d be deeper than the Marrianis TYT will tell you how opinions aren’t the facts, unless they’re Cenk’s or Ana’s Since they chose to make a living out of licking boots and shilling, you can bet they make a killing. TYT is proud to say they traded all their spines away to empty out the til and tell themselves it’s decent work, and it’s an honest tilling. Me I see they found a way to rape the willing. Me I read between the lines and in the script I see the signs that those who fund their message down to every filthy dime would gladly bleed a human sea if it prevents a drop of oil spilling. Yet, somehow they portray themselves the heart of the progressive movement The loudest voices calling for some unity with those who built careers around destroying unions Which might be true, since unity is something truly useless and symbolic like a stale communion As tasteless as the times they tried to fight back smiles smearing Julian And I hope Cenk and Ana listen up, and listen well You’ll never be a fraction of the journalist Assange has been, even from his cell. All the filth you spread around, you spread it on yourself. That’s my time, Fuck you twice, See you both in hell.

Legend says that Hercules swept Cerberus right off his feet, and effortlessly set him down as softly as a songbird Atlas kept the world up on his back, and every day, he wondered whether he could stand it any longer Tara Reade came out to say the man they tried to label the messiah of morality was really just another rapist. & I don’t intend to hesitate when asked who was the stronger Tara, like Assange, knew that carrying the truth would be the hardest labor Tara knew that her assailant wasn’t gonna make us any safer Knew he’s just the type of man to hand a decent foreign leader u.s printed walking papers And knew he’d be relentless and aggressive in the war he’d wage upon her very character, that his attempts to weaken, and degrade, and embarrass her would be her only compensation But I strongly doubt that anyone could ever have foreseen the stream of hate that came from quote-unquote Progressives and the self-styled Titans of survivor advocation So If you really think that there’s something to be gained out of sharing that pain with the world, then you’re sorely mistaken The Biden team just drug their feet addressing Tara’s allegations, until they had a decent list of smears, and then they aired them out on every station And it turns out No one wants to hear the truth of who they praised as being worthy of such bloated liberal celebration No one wants to really know the person they so valiantly defended even when it meant they had to gloat and shit all over someone braver than they’d be if given the occasion Now Cue the faceless comment squad invasion Cue those fuckers crawling out the woodwork to come analyze the way you wore your hair, and what you wear, like your appearance waives your rights, or that somehow, YOU’RE the reason for your situation. Somehow, they’ve decided YOU should bear responsibility for what such monstrous men insist on doing Somehow they’re deluded by the empty, hypocritical and useless fucking platitudes that bastard keeps on spewing And I think it’s very telling that the best of your excuses when you try to come and justify our presidents abuses is a hearty “But, Trump!”, In which case, I’ll remind you that you never saw the news attempt to sell you Donald Trump like he was morally upstanding, or a decent human. But When Joe says something bigoted or ogles someone’s little kid, CNN says: “Isn’t this refreshing? Biden’s like a mix of JFK & FDR with all the finer parts of Harry Truman” And, Christ, I know they don’t think that we’re the brightest, but at least pretend we’ve got a couple lumens Ask yourself if you have ever questioned what they fed you, or do you just shut your eyes, and then consume it? Now ask yourself if you ate every one of Biden’s lies, under the guise of harm reduction and the promise of a slight improvement And now, imagine long ago that Biden chose to show you who he really was by traumatizing you for his amusement Now imagine that you watched him touch a Bible with those filthy hands, and then assume the power of the highest seat in all the land. Knowing your attacker wields a global coalition born of 3-letter agencies who’ll make a life’s mission out of trying to discredit you through lies, damn lies, and collusion. Big tech is never gonna separate from our surveillance state, fucks sakes, they’re just a breath away from total fusion So there will come a time where even if you see the light your voice will never reach the sky through all the bots, and all the noise pollution So trust us when we tell you that the masking of abuses is perhaps this country’s oldest institution And I know nothing nobler that facing it in honor of the truth when you know that the people holding power have been neutralizing truth since there was wet ink on the constitution So know that Tara’s truth is something crucial to the movement And if you see yourself a partner to the Revolution, help this country see through all the baseless propaganda through the crux of Joe’s illusions, and recognize that Tara Reade gave everything she had so she could tell us what the truth is. Recognize the decent thing to do when someone bares their soul and shows their bruises Is not to ask for context, or offer up your own solutions Your job is just to listen with an honest mind and put yourself on Tara’s side a moment so you understand the path she chooses There is no instant fame that’s worth the dragging of your name And if that’s what you think, then you’ve a lot to learn about the kind of facts the mob can handle, and the kind that it refuses. You’ve a lot to learn about the news, And all it’s many uses. Guess you’ve yet to learn the truth the news will serve is fruit from which they’ve squeezed out all the juices And we all eat the husks and just pretend it’s full of nutrients, and isn’t really useless The jaws of our ability to yield Accountability are absolutely toothless So don’t you kid yourself that any lips are being loosened They won’t ever tell us where the bodies are, or show us where the proof is. It’s on you to recognize the lechery our president so regularly oozes It’s on you to muster up some honesty and ask yourself how Biden won your trust, but it’s America that loses. Open up your eyes, and learn to recognize the bruises.

Sometimes it feels like the worlds moving on Or it feels like I’m already gone Some say that that’s just a sign that it’s right before dawn I say the only way I can describe it is sometimes I’m watching my son on his bike, and I feel like a ghost on the lawn. I feel like the host and the best of me fed something else and I’m fit to be pawned I feel like the very last fish in the pond And tonight they’ll be flooding the valley and I’ll be alone in the reservoir, endlessly carrying on Deathless and bound Down to a depth I attempted to sound until I thought, maybe my sound was gone Held in a prison whose walls my fists have been pounding on Whose CCTV turned to a livestream Soon as the stream of the reservoir split the walls And I didn’t make waves, or a scene, I kept my head down, and just drowned to embrace it all Found what was left of myself caught up in a tangle of trees and debris when the waters receded And maybe I’d needed that all along. Maybe my peace is the breath of relief in the break of a song Maybe I’m right at the peak of my being as soon as I speak the last words aloud through the fury of my heart beating Maybe I’m only deceiving myself, Maybe i’m wrong. Maybe I’m nearer to right than I’d like to admit, and that’s why I’m convinced that I’m splintering Maybe the truth is, once you let the light in, the brightness is fixed to your eyelids, and there’s no forgetting no matter how heavy the curtains are drawn Maybe I’m right at the peak of my being as soon as I speak the last words aloud, and then the moment is gone. Maybe I’m more than a ghost on the lawn But, Maybe that’s just what a ghost would be telling itself to attempt to keep calm Maybe I’ll try to disarm myself, only to find that I’m all of the wires attached to the bomb Find that they run through the lines of my palms, And learn the device is entwined in my final reserves of resolve So, if it ignites, then I might just step outside myself, place my concern for your current events on an often-neglected shelf Killing my drive to create and then claiming defense of myself watching as everyone else just keeps revolving like maybe them forcing insolvency on us just couldn’t be helped, Or, honestly, we couldn’t tell. Maybe those questions are better off left to be muttered ad nauseum after I’m tossed in a cushioned and carpeted cell Singing the ballad of suicide hotline workers who know that they’d only be calling themselves Who know we are stuck in the clutches of leaders who publicly honor the fallen, privately set up a system that sees to it we are eternally falling and privately plot the demise of us all while they carefully measure the plots that we’ll fall in. The mandatory mass grave cascade we are soon to star in. I push the thought aside, like the fog of a chlorine gas hanging thick in my mind I’m standing outside I’m looking at the sky I can smell the charcoal of someone’s fire, I see my Son out on his bike. In a moment that, although I’m standing within it, I still feel it passing by. It’s like it’s fading into time And then, suddenly, it’s 20 years behind.

March of Dimes. Family fun-run cancer bonanza front page of apartheid times All the charm of a car bomb Arms wide open and taking no targets alive Dark was the night Save for a red glow painting the sky in a sickening light Like a scene out of hell Or a day in an utterly alien life And the fire runs wild But these are the years where the wild is more of your daily drive To Wrestle the truth of extinction from out of the jaws of your pride Open them wide Now is the time There’s nothing to fight Placid or sworn to defy The end is the same and we’re inches away from the line So Abandon your ego to die The bed that we made is where we go to die But never was passing in ones own sleep such a hideous sight Such a storm of convulsions and bile expulsions from out of our mouths and our eyes These are the rights they implore us to exercise with our signatures forged and our hands all tied And with eye-contact and a senator’s smile they thank you for saving democracy right as they tighten the binds Right when they’re joining your chains to your neighbors, and leading you out in a line Call it the March Of Dimes One more charity parody Hold back grants while we dance for the presidents salary Funding the bunkers where all of the wealthy will cower to witness our steepest decline To err is a trait so inherently human, To hoard enough wealth that you peacefully sleep when those humans are burning alive is so truly divine. If divinity really means withered and fully decaying inside You can live with yourself til you run out of wine. Ring for a drone offa prime Skim a little off of the top of the March of dimes Sign of our system of capital, head to the sky, with a hideous cry. It mimics the suffering families out on the street that it spent its career passing by Who were part of The Great Design part of a citizen base with its fate resigned part of a two-party system where both of the goals align And the end result is more housing crisis than the plot device of 2009 Capitalism demanded a sacrifice So I walk to the square, I hand them my Son, and they hand me the dice. I roll for his life. To a lesser extent, you could say I was rolling for mine. I called any favor, I paid any bribe But it’s all up to me for the roll, so I close my eyes. And the sound of the crowd is the same for a one or a five Two equal outcomes playing as though they’re on opposite sides And I know in my heart that on 4 out of 6, he’ll be fine. But I can’t seem to roll them, I can’t let them go, I’m just holding them tight. I’m just holding him tight.