that’s an endless paradox of spin-offs and canon fodder,

love it!

especially when it gets controversial,

I like to see things that challenge wrong minds.

like elected capitalist slavery,

we, the most, sign our lives to the host.

the one that owns all that stolen swag and more,

all empires are built on slavery, that’s why they’re always to be opposed.

this is extreme thinking, it’s not the way,

your bow is so tight it will snap soon someday.

it will happen unless you seek peace.

if your heart truly desires the abandonment of an accepted definition of human rights,

then you seek to grant rewrite to johnson’s way out?

should he be allowed to disappear, shouldn’t traitors be punished?

you take our human rights, you are the enemy,

don’t matter where you’re born, if you support fascism then you’re the enemy of the masses.

the masses that die in their streets,

piled high by your decrees.

he laughed as people died,

alone without cries.

he lied to the house,

multiple times and was never called out,

by all sides of the house.

all parties that now decry the pissant in the ministry,

need to all reflect a bit, now and then.

believe the person who speaks only the truth,

speaks politely, with due respect,

but knows when they’re being lied to,

by every oil snake barbarian.

christian or pagan, buddhist or translucent,

our faiths have both wings, whether fae or angelic.

they may have vast auras of gold,

have a 1000 arms,

with eyeballs in each of the palms.

if so I bow to compassion,

I bow to good reasoning,

logically truth, observable destroying the invisible.

in the peace of the night I hear the plights of the blights,

the disenfranchised old comedian,

being no more relevant than a conker.

we put a fucking conker in charge!

look at the fool, big jobbie buffoon!

git out old thought, you feel wrong right down to the loss in my heart.

there is so much more pain to come,

“..let them win, let them win..”

“..I give up now, I give up…..”

we don’t give up though, that’s the trouble with being old vetala,

we’re spirits of the earth, not life, just dirt?

if that’s how they see us, so be it,

cry out and call the people from the earth,
rise up from the corpses of dead forces,
the selfish flesh that still clings, vomits and kills things...

maybe not, remember the poems of Milarepa, I who knows nothing must bow!

but my teachers come from a lineage that traces back to Je Tsongkhapa.

I have pride in my teacher, even if I lack it in myself.

so why the doctor!

so irrelevant it bored me into the never.