Pen and Paper
I am the slave,
the pen is my master.
It commands me to write,
more and more, faster and faster.
The paper is calling,
it’s screaming my name.
Why do they force me,
have they no shame?
Forced are my thoughts,
through the pen they do flow.
Who are they to coerce,
are they friends, are they foe?
I wish to stop now,
asylum I do seek.
For my hand does grow tired,
as well my mind grows weak.
But they won’t allow me to stop,
there’s no ending in sight.
They demand I continue,
so I shall… write, write, write.
We Just Got Lucky!
Do you realize all the things that needed to align to get this election result? Look at where we were in 2020 when the severe censorship of the truth began. There was no shortage of experts explaining all the flaws in logic and pseudo-science surrounding the COVID hoax, but all those telling the truth, including myself, were either shadow-banned or canceled. What if Elon Musk had not purchased Twitter? Truthful free speech would likely have remained crushed if that hadn't happened. This is where luck began to really shift things [...]
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