Julian Osterman Julian Osterman
Recommendations: 3

Can I have this on a tee shirt?

Asma Ahsan Asma Ahsan
Recommendations: 31

The whole four lines? How about sticking to, "We’ll scrape humanity off the tiles, and wash it down the drain" Keep a good font and no images, red and black colors, and please don't use image of tiles as that's too cliche. Also, no image of a washing detergent as you are not going to market them for free.

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Julian Osterman Julian Osterman
Recommendations: 3

The Big Nothing


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soul mates

You didn’t think this through
Let’s victimize the revolution
Laying crumpled at the bottom of the stairs
The last hour has been slow and uninteresting
Chasing clouds through corridors
You left us with movies of surrealism
And no moral compass grounded in reality


What’s for dinner?
The desiccated carcass of fragile emotional humility
Shorting out the wires in the moth wings
Fragile little suicide
Grenades falling like raindrops


What are you doing? I don’t know what you’re doing.
What are you doing? You don’t know what you’re doing.
Flatten out your flags


Meilleures choses ont été gelés
Avec énergie cérébrale attelés
Un plan de au suicide dessiné dans le sable
Laissez vos craintes dans l'étable
Ronger les ongles jusqu'au sang
Notre dieu n'est qu'une demi-sang
Cils détiennent pensées dos démêlé
Notre dieu n'est qu'un sang-mêlé


If you treasure the thoughts
You leave under the sheet
You cut between bones
Leave them in piles so neat


A bright yellow sun
To scorch fragments aplenty
Your skin peels back
To reveal you hollow and empty


There’s no blood in your tissue
There’s no objects in space
There’s no heart in your chest
There’s no eyes in your face


A broken pixel avatar
Of bygone days
To hollow out homes
In the dotcom craze


With skin pulled tight
Across paper-mache frames
We forget the era
Of bastards and dames


Transit transit transit transit transit transit transit


Frozen filthy broken bones
That poke and scratch through skin
Tear away at avarice
Like a leper through his sin


Dreaming of a dying day
When your beating heart explodes
Falling angels land like anvils
With even numbers setting modes


An army builds and faster still
While galloping legs fall cut from flesh
And body parts thrown wilder still
Unable to catch them in the mesh


We’ll scrape humanity off the tiles
And wash it down the drain
And better off our eyes will be
Without the pressure from the brain 2 comments


Swollen and bleeding like our gums
That gnaw at books and bleeding
Metaphor for history lost
But lesser context for our breeding


A dark and dirty past does not
Make for a bright and cheery future
These monuments called libraries
House records of genocide brochures


How happily we stab our infants
And rip them from their mothers
With hooks we drag them to the desert
And force them to murder others


With brains bashed in with rubber mallets
And nails peeled back with tender care
We mock them for their foreign gods
And set fire to their hair


One day will come when better folk
Want to steal the white man’s land
I hope they don’t hesitate to slash
And leave our throats in our hands


Setting fire to the sky seems like
Such a pretty waste
When simple extinction of our kind
Will leave the world a better taste


And when we are gone and carcass rots
And caskets sink into the sea
No memory will be left alive
And that will be the end of me


The dirt will laugh and start to relax
The plants and birds sing for something
And humanity won’t have a clue
When we go on to the big nothing.


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