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    dots Submission Name: Another Untitled Piece of Crapdots

    Author: Keaton Volkov
    ASL Info:    18/M/Ohio
    Elite Ratio:    4.73 - 22/17/13
    Words: 429
    Class/Type: Poetry/Political
    Total Views: 1379
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 3154

       I wrote this in my precalculus class instead of, well, doing precalculus. And I'm fairly glad that I did.

    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsAnother Untitled Piece of Crapdots



    Mental manifestation

    Of happy buzzards eating fine

    The clock beats out of time

    And the slaves they dine

    Shoeless in the streets of Babylon

    Chanting down the prophets,

    Starving in their hiding holes

    Dancing in their undergarments

    Naked and joyful and loud!

    Father, what is this sound?

    Slaves in the quagmire of progress,

    Lighting their homes,

    Carrying the pork barrels,

    Crying to their gods and mothers and angels!

    Youth eating trash and glass

    Walking barefoot through their dreams

    No time for the hunger!

    No time for the dances!

    No time for the stares!

    No time for the books!

    No time for the books!

    No time for the stares!

    No time for the dances!

    No time for the hunger!

    Eating their hearts out on gold platters!

    Never looking back,

    Tasting the long awaited shackles

    Of freedom!


    What is freedom?

    Can they be free?

    Freedom is slavery

    In the enlightened man's eyes

    The power of freedom

    Means carrying its shackles

    Freedom is slavery!

    Expected to act on your own,

    "Blessed" with the power of self,

    Freedom is slavery!

    Failing to meet the expectations of your comrades,

    Failing to honor your own wishes,

    Failing failing failing!


    Freedom is meaningless!


    Freedom is in the mind!


    Mr. President, pizdet'!

    Pizdet' pizdet'!

    Pizdet' in the air and in the sky

    And in the libraries and the schools and the prisons!



    Mr. President, when are we awakening?

    Mr. President, when are we leaving?

    Mr. President I'm tired of this nonsense.

    I stole a computer when I was seven and I don't care.

    I took a necklace off a man's neck when he was wearing it and I'm not sorry.

    I've killed people in my dreams and I'd do it again.

    Mr. President you can't stop me from thinking.

    You can't stop me from wanting or loving or believing.

    Mr. President my body can be crushed but I'll still protest in Heaven.

    Mr. President you can kill me but I'll still burn your flags in Heaven.

    Mr. President you can snuff me out but my friends will avenge me.

    Mr. President


    Submitted on 2008-11-12 03:53:18     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
    3: meh!
    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!

    ||| Comments |||

    -(i like your image)
    -Thought of this:

    -It would be easier on the eyes if it wasn't so spaced-out

    Oh my lord. I know better than to try and classify which Balkan language is being spoken. I'm usually alright at identifying Russian, but anything else and I'm [censored]ed.

    I just went through every language on the Google translation thing, about to give up because I figured it was just *one of those words* that Google doesn't know about. But then I tried Slovenian, the penultimate Balkan language on the list, the last being Ukrainian (which I secretly hoped it was, because then maybe I could make you translate Gogol Bordello lyrics for me ).



    (and... if that's not the right word, or the right language, could you please let me know? i'd feel like a damn fool. google is highly unreliable, i know. i'm not sure the interjection fits... assuming Pizdet' means pussies.......)

    Of happy buzzards eating fine
    The clock beats out of time
    And the slaves they dine

    ... This is the only place that you have this triple succession of rhymes... And it sounds a bit stretched out.

    -Carrying the pork barrels

    What is freedom?
    Can they be free?

    All I'm wondering is who are "they"? For clarification purposes. I'm assuming it's referring to the slaves from the first section, but I'm not sure...

    All the exclamation points, the choppiness--it comes together and reads like a verrrrrry passionate almost slam-esque piece. I could see this shouted from a street corner, megaphoned from the top of a building. Angrily penned on the back cover of a textbook

    ... I don't want to say this because it makes me cringe a little, but with something that says so much, it's almost (*almost* almost ALMOST) not as important that it's clean and precise. I could nitpick way more into this, but I won't because 1: I'm lazy, and 2: it's powerful regardless.

    Glad you're a slacker student like me
    | Posted on 2008-11-12 00:00:00 | by etheror | [ Reply to This ]

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