The Fast And The Spurious, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter/X)

You are not in a movie, when using public roads
You are not Vin Diesel, your arrogance really shows
You step on the gas, thinking it’s a blast

It only takes one time, dragging down that line
Adrenaline in your veins a casket you will make
Risking other’s lives, over stupid selfish pride

The maker of you muscle car, won’t pay your ticket
They won’t pay your lawyers if someone dies from it
They won’t go to your funeral, they just profit from it

It doesn’t make you a man, it doesn’t make you brave
It just makes you stupid, leading to a possible grave

Looks so much fun, in the TV ads, all that speed isn’t bad?
One little thing, if you really squint, and can read
At the speed of light, it is in the quantum mice print

“Closed course, professional drivers, do not attempt”
So do yourself a favor and don’t have contempt
For the safety of others, or to a morgue you might be sent.

A Fist Full Of Bullets, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter/X)

Shopping at the Dollar Store, is now a death sentence
Being black is a crime, we must coddle white grievance
The object fetish cult will never show repentance

Rambo, Rambo wannabes, Oath Keepers are such sleaze
Dirty Harry fantasy, sell more, sell more, blood orgy please
Blame Chicago, the go to scapegoat, throw Obama in a moat

Bangs, pops, empty clips, splattered brains, shattered hips
Can’t even buy a bag of chips, at the checkout, the blood drips
Bodies drop, the profit’s crop, 400million firearms aren’t enough

We’ve had enough of your lies, NRA’s Lord Of The Flies
Hand deadly objects out like candy, destroying lives isn’t that dandy
Weapons of war come in handy, because the industry wants to make money

You are all bullies cowards and wimps, the GOP are all insolent chimps
Chumps selling you fear of tyranny, caring not of death that’s plenty
Prayer is a long dead cliche, they don’t help in any way

“Strict Originalists” often say, well then here’s a musket from back in the day
On the cold concrete the bodies lay, high capacity bullets spray
An average of 100 a day, and you assholes think more is ok?
(end)

FUCK THE NRA, fuck the gun cult, fuck the GOP. I hate violence, we do not need more guns. Gun violence isn’t a black problem, it isn’t a city problem, it is a volume problem, and a problem in every zip code, even the suburbs and rural. People should have the right to go outside their homes and not fear having their heads blown off. The fucking assholes on the right sell the idea that more guns makes us safer, and that is bullshit, and it is a dangerous lie and I am tired of seeing these stories on the news.

I am white, and I am tired of white people claiming they are victims, or that if we have gun safety laws we will become a dictatorship. You have been sold fear and bullshit by the industry and by the GOP. We don’t want a dictatorship, we just want safety put before industry profits.

The Cornerstone Speech, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter/X)

In 1861 a speech was made, we should now rightfully shun
Still today, some do claim, slavery was not the game
Some don’t understand why monuments are moved

They argue it is erasing history’s due, they’re mislead
Or bigots who, know the truth, but want to hide
Promote the same old shitty white pride

Today I heard an apologist rave, as if his knuckles
He needed to shave, neanderthal logic, dwelling in a cave
That most of the Rebels who fought for the South

Didn’t own slaves. Yes you read that right.
Even I couldn’t believe it was in my sight
As if they were the victims of Lincoln’s tyranny

Same old dead cacophony, dog whistle homogamy
Whitewashing history, there is no mystery
The Rebels had no victory

We all know the traitor Jefferson Davis
Robert E Lee, General, certainly famous
Do you know the their Richmond VP?

Take a look at the speech he wrote
It was obvious not even a remote
Chance of misunderstanding intent

Alexander H. Stephens would not relent
He expressed vehemently the war’s intent
It was God’s order that whites were superior

And that of blacks, they were inferior.

So when you wonder why a monument is removed
It isn’t to erase history, but to place in proper context
Monuments are symbols of honor, not to be approved

Slavery belongs in history books, not to be glorified
As something good. Forever, forever we must remember
The horrors of the hood, the chains and the scars, lynchings

Amistad, Tubman, King behind bars, a motel balcony
Edmund Pettus Bridge, Malcom X and all the dead.
Condemn those who honor the Rebels instead.

Blood is blood, and red is red, sleep not well
Those who are fed, the idea that Stephens was a hero.
(end)

Today I heard a fucking ridiculous argument from a defender of the South using the same old Lincoln was a Republican, even going as far as to say most Soldiers who fought for the south did not own slaves. Yes some stupid fuckface argued that. It did not negate the Antebellum Plantation rich owners who did fund the Rebel government.

I have no problem preserving history, even the horrors of the past SHOULD be preserved, in the proper context. Civil War Memorials or Monuments were built during the Reconstruction era as an afront to the loss and were meant as monuments of honor, not mere markings of history. Those monuments need to be moved, not destroyed, but moved to places where plaques in museums can say that this person was evil, and a monster and fought to keep slavery.

There is no excuse whatsoever to defend slavery at all. Alexander H. Stephens wrote an explicit speech he gave in 1861 stating that it was “God’s will” that whites were the superior race and blacks were meant to be slaves. This was the Vice President of the Confederacy.

And before anyone goes arguing that Lincoln was a Republican,
which was true, back then, don’t lie about the history after. Because the parties flipped on minority rights with the Civil Rights movement and was cemented by Nixon’s Southern Strategy.

This poem is about a specific speech as noted in the title, “The Cornerstone Speech” as to which these are the words Stephens wrote and spoke in that speech in opposition to the North.

“Our new government is founded upon exactly the opposite idea; its foundations are laid, its corner-stone rests, upon the great truth that the negro is not equal to the white man; that slavery subordination to the superior race is his natural and normal condition.” Alexander H. Stephens Vice President of the Confederate States.

https://sourcebooks.fordham.edu/mod/1861stephens.asp
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cornerstone_Speech
https://www.battlefields.org/learn/primary-sources/cornerstone-speech

P01135809, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter/X)

Mr. Spray Tan racoon man, refused to denounce
The Ku Klux Klan. In your real caravan
To the Fulton County Jail, was that your “plan” ?

Spoons of silver in your mouth, you had everything
From your birth, your abusive dad gave you no worth
Wining was winning, to you it was everything

No lessons of empathy, compassion for others
You conned many out of their money
You skirted the law for over half a century

Even your family stole from a charity
You talk like the mafia like John Gotti
In code you wink, think it is funny

Then you cry foul like the typical bully
Falsely play victim, to avoid accountability

You incited a mob, that got 140 officers injured
Two of them because of your words were murdered
That phone call was not perfect, it was considered

All of your life you did what you wanted
You ran over people, with no regard
To the destruction you leave in your wake

You are a con, a bully, narcissist and fake.

Now you are being, held to account
You never imagined it would come about
Like a petulant child you mope and shout

The best at the worst but you are the first
President with a mugshot, and I hope that hurts
But you are incapable of feeling remorse

If there is justice it will take it’s course
And you will have a 6 by 5, still be incapable
Of understanding why

You did nothing but waste your life
Wining by cheating, winning by bullying
Winning by coning, winning by grifting

You will never be in the ranks
Of Jimmy Carter, or Harriet Tubman
You never be a compassionate human

You will always be that frightened child
Insecure acting tough and wild
You will never be meek or mild

Humility you’ve never had
Your poison hatred always angry and mad
You care only for yourself, and that is sad

Now you’ve got something, you’ve truly earned
A process number, you never learned
Fair play and decency, you will always be a bully.

Pin Prick Parlor Trick, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter/X)

At 3 PM they claim the news was grim
A spear in the side had done him in
Friday forsaken, his fame had cashed in

Sunday surprise the zombie arose
His body in a tomb not long for repose
Can’t you see the holes in his hands

How can this be a sacrifice, if he didn’t stay dead
I see a mere pin prick, flaws in this logic
Saw the woman in half, chalk it up to magic

How can we call this brief stunt a miracle or tragic?
Just like the fall of Adam and Eve, nobody born after
Gets a reprieve, genocidal flood, humanity received

Jesus offered like the virgin in the volcano
Or the cow and goat, bath in their blood
Then cheer and gloat, as you slit their throat

A spear in the side, multiple times
A crown of thorns, on his head adorns
Out of ignorance new myths are born

Rigor mortis is the kink in this story
They leave it out because it’s too gory

Remiss I would be if I did not mention
All cells in his body would cease to function
All of his organs too with no compunction

Yet abracadabra is the magic word
Make a legend out of the absurd

Forget that hypoxia would set in
No oxygen to his brain
Nothing his for lungs to gain

Despite the real science
They believe in defiance
They grovel every Sabbath

In knelt compliance, it’s a séance
Without a ghost, or a real host
Of this fiction they love to boast

Mental coin, pulled from behind their ear
Out of the black top hat they pulled a white hare
False bottoms, slight of hand, slight of mind

This parlor trick is easy to unwind.
(end)

The myth of the death story of Jesus is scientifically absurd. If one were to literally kill someone in the manor the bible implies happened, every cell and organ in that body would be irreversibly dead, and hours later rigor mortis would set in. There is no coming back from that.

What I mean by pin prick is that seems pretty tame for only a day and a half, if you believe the timeline of Friday afternoon to Sunday. Not to mention he didn’t stay dead, which would be a real sacrifice like the soldiers of D-Day.

“Parlor Trick” is metaphor for how people willfully trick themselves into believing this myth, like really wanting to believe the woman was sawed in half rather than consider someone made up the story. Basically willful ignorance allows them to fool themselves like a magician does relying on suspension of disbelief.

The Epitaph Of Nuance, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter/X)

There can be no subtlety, no grey fluctuation
No mediation, no mosaic of different manifestations
The McMedia, X marks the spot, limited characters
Are all you’ve got , simplistic rage entitlement hits the spot

Law books are endless, and in law school, only a fool
Would believe Judy’s court is real, good it makes you feel
If the onion layers you peal, the rot of mind is revealed
Satisfaction in a nanosecond, fondant saccharin killed

Our ability to see complexity, leading to declivity
Dark is stone set and it’s enemy is light
Dawn and dusk the merger, fading out of sight
We cannot see the palm and pine as both trees

Pick a side and start the fight, Ford vs Chevy
Manchester vs Arsenal, perineal is this bevy
Of lines, arbitrary, vastly unnecessary
Stir up controversy, show no mercy

The most trivial of of events are shiny objects
Thrown as bones to a fearful public fed division
To keep wallets and purses and checkbooks empty
Useful to the powerful, give them a cause because

Allah needs to kill Jesus, and Jesus, needs to kill Allah
And that pesky Jew over there is the troublemaker
And those rapists south of the border, and drag queens
They are all your enemy, cant you see, pay your cult leaders

More money, and they will keep you happy with your hate
God is always on the side of the justified, and meanwhile
You cant pay your rent, you cant buy a car, your home
Is about to be foreclosed on, and they keep selling lies.

Simplicity is the recipe for your demise
So don’t act surprised, that you cant understand
Things like selection bias and sample rate error
Or Occam’s Razor, or the fallacy of Pascal’s Wager

No, you’re stuck on ducks and camo and dynasty
And pro wrestling, and cop shows where the
Crime is solved in an hour, and standing for flags
All that short attention span, takes away your power

For reason, it’s mind treason, the opiate is pleasing
For it gives you false comfort, it’s teasing
Dragging you away from understanding
Nuance.

Murder Hornets, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

Honey or bumble don’t want to rumble
With this monster Asian giant hornet
Worse than a bee in your bonnet
It won’t sing you a sonnet

If it wants their hive they are on it
Mandibles pruning shears, cut off
The heads at the thorax like a guillotine
Like snaping twigs over one’s knee

The heads of their victims litter
The forest floor, or farmers lot
Paris scull catacombs they plot
The larvae their food they’ve got

Storm troopers with stingers
Major league killers are ringers
A swarm of black and yellow reapers
Honey they steal for keepers

Oh what a design how compassion and kind
Of these creatures with efficiently deadly features
Seems like the maker of such, a disturbed boy
With a new Gi Joe toy, who likes pulling the heads off.

So he was sitting up in the clouds, thinking out loud
Or silently, what can I make myself to amuse myself
Something efficiently cruel to one of my other creations?

Yes, that’s it, it will fit in nicely with the lioness suffocating
The live zebra calf , by it’s throat , right after it was born,
While the others in the pride, out of it’s guts are torn
And roar, WE WANT MORE.

But I guess that is what I should expect from a bored
Psychotic god, who watched with folded arms
As Anne Frank was marched to her death.

But we are the Murder Hornets ourselves
Minus the excuse of not knowing better
We spend infinite energy dreaming of ways
To kill each other in war

Defeat of another does not equal immortality
It is is a temporary win, death is always the prize
As with all other life, the murder hornet also dies.
(end)

I get that life eats other life, I have no moral problem with that when you take a super natural cause out of the mix. But, once someone claims there is an all loving all powerful being concerned about human well being, it makes no sense at all. But ok, lets leave humans out of it. What possibly could benefit an all powerful God to watch one species become efficiently genocidal, like animals are lab rats to this god.

Point being, Asian Giant Hornets do what all groups of the same species do, they seek to survive. It is brutal, and it is cruel to the victims, but it is beneficial to the hornet hive. Life in reality has some very harsh things to face, like what life has to do to survive.

But again, if you have the capability, like with your cat or dog to prevent harm to it, you would. It simply makes no sense that any life or humans should suffer if you are postulating an all loving God.

Drapetomania, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter/X)

DeSantis postulated that slaves
Were better off because
They learned new skills

Amnesia is not his ill, but of ignorance
He will take advantage of at will

“Dr” Cartwright long before this
Modern swill, gives my bones a chill
Slaves who had taken flight

He proclaimed a mental disorder
In 1851 before the first Civil War guns

Not be let the captives indulge in comfort
Or to see themselves as equal to the master
This would create the malady of wanting freedom

After “familiarity”, keep your distance be
And punish them accordingly until
“They fall into that submissive state”

The master shall not appose the Deity’s will
“The Almighty declared he should be
“The submissive knee bender”

“Whip the devil out of them”
Was Samuel’s remedy. Today we fail to see
Too far outside that history

The unheard whistle heard as loud
As thunderclap to the sane
We will not repeat this again

DeSantis postulated that slaves
Were better off because
They learned new skills

I have two words for you Ron
FUCK YOU!
(end)

There was an Antebellum crackpot doctor named Samuel A. Cartwright who postulated a fake mental disorder called “Drapetomania” for slaves basically saying that if slave owners or masters treated them too well they would get a taste for something God did not give them the right to have. YES, more fucking proof that the bible was used to condone slavery. And how convenient a crackpot telling the sickos what they wanted to hear.

“Amnesia is not his ill” means DeSantis knows better but doesn’t care.

So when you hear people like DeSantis today making a sick argument that remember our history and why when he says sick shit like that it has to be called out every time.

This was really part of our history unfortunately.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drapetomania

The Void, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter/X)

The safari with no camera, the Everest with no peak
The pipeline with no North Shore, my poem yet to speak
The symphony with no instruments, words unwritten bleak

I went to the well, it was dry as a bone
I found my self in the desert
I was all alone

The sushi with no rice, not a sliver of even fish
The restaurant never opened
The salmon had no dish

I went to the cupboard, to find me a mug
I had no coffee to brew
I had no morning drug

The sun with no fuel, it was about to die
The sky writer with no smoke
The riverbed cracked and dry

I went to the library, not a single book
I looked at the jury, guilty verdict shook
I picked up my pen, but the poem never took

The painter with no palate, the player with no goal
The pop star with no song, the shoal with no school
The void in the interim, my writer’s block very cruel.
(end)

I am stuck in the worst doldrum I have had in while it sucks.

Bimble Bumble Jumble, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet On FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter/X)

Leisurely pace with a happy face
Doopty doopty doo

Inquisitive look at which flower to pluck
Doopty doopty doo

Clovers of four bring me luck
Doopty doopty doo

Dance and buzz the honey bee loves
Doopty doopty doo

Fetch a stick give a face a lick
Doopty doopty doo

Chase the twine pet purr fine
Doopty doopty doo

Goofy face lights up the place
Doopty doopty doo

The cub bear romps with no care
Doopty doopty doo

Feet swing while we joyfully sing
Doopty doopty doo

Take some time to make up a rhyme
Doopty doopty doo
(end)

Just a silly poem about finding time to be silly and have fun.
“Doopty doopty doo” is a made up silly sound I imagine a happy cat or dog thinks to themselves while they are doing something fun. Or when a bee is happy telling the other bees where the honey is by dancing.