Making a Killing

Making money hand over trigger— gotta get that paper if you wanna be a Christian Gangster. Seeds of Judas the quick silver taker prey; tell me what it feels like living in lined pants, and I will oblige you with my medical bills. You deserve a laugh, after all, it must be awfully grueling strategizing

The Dust Storm

Dust with hearts pumping, and lungs screaming love and hate and sex and violence. Dust with stomachs aching— too much designer caramel latte, and blood in the streets. Dust with mouths vomiting rhetoric. Dust with ears hearing but never listening.   © Kindra M. Austin (image: The Babylon Bee)

America Isn’t Awesome

Entertainment is King. In the United States, game shows are prime. Answer a series of questions correctly, and you could win hundreds of thousands of dollars–maybe a million. Okay, so most game show contestants only walk away with thousands before taxes, depending on the game show. It’s fucking gross though; we have politicians fighting over

A Call For Revolution

I was born a breeze, blue sharp and breaking Sunday glassware– social refinement is over-rated when innocent blood is spilled in the name of Peace. What peace? Fundraisers are crooks. Uppity mother fuckers dress up in laurels. It’s the regular people who give an actual fuck. When will real America embrace the fact that we

Sheep to Slaughter

Political Machine Mechanically Separated Human Meat Freaks Reformed

It’s awful, isn’t it?

Teeth chew hearts and desecrate souls, but stand idle on the streets, munching the fucking sammich you paid for with a credit card. Conversate with friends: “Lookit what they’re doing to her.” “It’s awful. But what can we do?” Goddamn it, you’ve got red on you. Ketchup on your precious pressed shirt– never mind the

War Machine: Fightstar

Are you a war machine? “Some of us will die alone. Some of us will never reach the end of the road. It isn’t enough. Some of us will never know the meaning of trust. Some of us will feed off all the people who give. It’s never enough. Are we a race of animals

Going To Bed Angry

I questioned your morals, in so many words, even though I know the heart of you. But it’s because I know the heart of you that I questioned your morals. Okay, not questioned, but attacked. I attacked your integrity. So you went to bed without me. Now Melvin is hanging about, dancing around my feet,

Pride: Hatred’s Mother

Prideful people cannot be talked down from their self-righteous platforms; in this age, I don’t even think Jesus Christ himself could reach them. In fact, the whole idea of God has been twisted by Holy Rollers to suit their opinions–opinions which they claim as Christian faith. Not that this notion of mine is unique or