The Actor’s Plight

How was I to have known

My own pen would betray me

If I could not see fit

To understand politics as displayed to me

These long and dark words

Are sultry in the ocean

The waves and tides of my mind

Now recede without an end to the pain of the dove’s tree

My blood dovetails out

In the artistic words of war

I took a giant fucking shit on an innocent kid

To be in a movie and the same film told him to even the score

Published by cheater120

Consider me an expert in information munitions. I practice Zazen meditation, Yakuza Trappist form (a Yakuza, games cheat, and Trappist, a counter-agent), as a Bonafuda, a mercantile salesmen of information through philosophy, literature, fiction, and academics, distributed as munitions technique deployed for the purpose apparent to you, unless of course you have violated the ethics of my piece, in which case you will be trapped inside a theft of the piece and an action within the boundaries of the violation you have committed in Benedictine culture, the Jewish affiliate within Catholic culture. Buyer beware, and these poems, are free.

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