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Kill the OppressorsThe time is here, the time of vengeance!
Here comes the people, who did no penance!
They who judge, scorn and ridicule!
They treat all things low and miniscule!
I remember the time when you sat high!
You made many of gentle and kind people cry!
Oppression and bullying was rampant!
You and your kind were behind the rant!
I too fell prey to your predation!
You and your wicked kind liked this situation!
Your judgement over simple things with lambast!
You stepped on treasures until they rust!
You condemend all that was worthy!
You caused many good people misery!
Under the guise of criticism and correction
You humiliated all of us and our family!
Now it is your turn to pay!
The time of revenge is now!
You thought you were gods of arts...
Well then, have a taste of hell!
A thousand lashings for your fat body!
A thousand piercings for your sharp tounge!
Chop to pieces your naughty fingers!
Crack open the skull, that holds the rotting brain!
Slash the body open wide!
Impale all orifices with s
if you need help making it through the dayremember:
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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