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Writer's pictureJoel Wordsmith

Inflammable Ink


Hurling a boisterous bomb of words. The best method to get the lousy, power crazy and lethargic posteriors taped to any chair of service TO GET TO WORK. 



A position of responsibility is a position of service, and not a golden ticket to be a catalyst to organized crime syndicates.

Each and every tile in civilization has been infiltrated by a unified influence of a biased body at work, situated above the governing bodies that an average man knows of. 


How would you?


 

Most people are kept too busy slapping their heads off to get into a "people-leaking" local train that they are assuming their roles in a human-rooster clash and thinking below the stem to find the roots seems a rather tedious thing to do.


 


Solution? 


Improve the little specs on your painting of life and in your list of essential skills, keep Writing as one of the crucial skills to possess, as the "inflammable ink" travels ethers that the best fighter jets would gas out in.


A powerful letter, or as I call it, "A Power Letter", is truly a boisterous bomb that could jack up the entire digital experience causing entropy and headaches to many a monarch. 

Isn't it a superpower from the Creator? 


I keep bolting the heads of many so-called corrupt and influential people and coerce the coercers hiding under their bunker, designing the deceitful crab basket for the masses. 


It would be righteous if the terms and conditions for most things were not whispered under breath, like it is in insurance and mutual fund ads. 


Then I'd be really very careful before investing and handling any so-called provision by the thugs who try to run the world.


Find a giant scissoring fan and shove the tyrant of your life in it. 


Inflammable Ink 
// poetry

True talent sent away 
A pearl trapped in an oyster
The oyster — a constricted incubator, 
Fuming, the pearl begins to boisterously boister.

Breaking oysters of limitation 
It’s a spell breaker in pearl form;
Defrocking the cheap-shot masonic act,
Thoughtful Pearl turned Boisterous Bomb.

Can you stop an idea…
Whose time has come?
Absolute control — a fraudulent rumor
Leaving the complacent kings founded-dumb.

With a baseball bat of preparation, 
Luck doesn’t exist in this scripted scene;
I’m nourished in the Creator’s embrace 
Immortal inspiration never weaned.

A Melody on the harp 
We sprinkle with colors on thoughts;
Flying over the city of broken dreams,
Stop turning the Creative souls into deadbeat bots.



 

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