They gashed his cheek,
Gave him the news:
“Go with the play,
Or you will lose.”

“Already lost,”
He mumbled, stared.
Blood dripped from hands
Tied to a chair.

“From east to west
We cheated you,
Just as you say–
That much is true.

But you won’t talk
(They say you’re smart),
I will remind
You of our art.

Each one who’s talked
In forty years–
Or threatened to–
Not one is here.

We’ll give you stuff,
Enjoy the view.
Open your mouth–
We’ll come for you.

The choice is yours
And make it fast,
Or you may have
A heart attack.”

“No words from me
About your crimes;
I will enjoy
Remaining time.”

“You choose to play
On our big team.
Good boy. Clean up,
And have sweet dreams.”


Audit the Pentagon, the Fed, and Fort Knox

Will Rivers‏ @tainoazApr 30More

How $21 Trillion in U.S. Tax Money Disappeared. “Full Scope Audit” of the Pentagon – Global Research

Facebook censors conservatives

Facebook is Big Brother. Boycott Facebook.

Ryan Fournier‏Verified account @RyanAFournier 

Facebook has officially announced the permanent suspension of Laura Loomer, Alex Jones, Milo Yiannopoulos, and Paul Joseph Watson. Our right to freedom of speech shouldn’t end where your feelings begin!

“The Hollow Men,” T.S. Eliot

Mistah Kurtz-he dead
A penny for the Old Guy

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom
Remember us–if at all–not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.


Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death’s dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind’s singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.

Let me be no nearer
In death’s dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer–

Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom


This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man’s hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this
In death’s other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.


The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death’s twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.


Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o’clock in the morning.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
Life is very long

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.