Thursday, May 25, 2017

Risking Mammon's Wrath



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Mine's a strident little station who would dare to speak to you; to step out on the world stage with ethos, heart, and clue. To break from "comfy cover," for to play the real blues. To risk the wrath of Mammon for a heartfelt Alien View.
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I know the message "should" be pleasant... so "the horror" fades from sight. You'd have your "warm and fuzzies" in a "lifestyle" clean and bright. ...Though where's an even break for those who fight a "straight-up" fight? They'd have "warmth" plus "satisfaction," too, terror absent in their night.
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My "program" plays the "classics", and the music's "implication." Know your fear, it's always here ... but feel a strange elation. The blues are played to curve the will for "valid protestation," and "valid protest" wins its grace; you can feel it at this station.
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As you listen walk a path with me which covers different ground. We live in senseless violence which happens all around! You cannot hear the crickets who will only make their sound when this madness isn't spraying sullen poisons on our ground!
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Check out this DJ's costume as it flashes truthful color. Our spirit is effusive. It makes our message even fuller. My straightened back gives breath back so a "faith" leaps even taller; amazing all these thoughts are had for throwing off one's collar!

My signal comes from mountains waving grass grown green in rain. The amplitude is mellow even pushing up the gain. My frequency's a freshness to ameliorate the pain with a pleasure you'd been missing, though you're *taught* that's quite "insane."
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My message is hard-edged enough—don't dare to call it "quaint." It doesn't take the word of what the privileged call a "saint." It won't tremble for the *mighty*, then go all weak and faint. It's alone its own creation, but sans hubristic paint.
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My center's hailing yours completely guileless... a little worried... The message has to get out quick; together, we must hurry. Only in the shadows can real monsters dart and scurry. Our light could have them slinking back to darkness in a flurry.
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Ours? A strident program the 'electrics' pump worldwide. It's that self-made leap of faith I've contemplated, I confide. It's heartfelt appreciation that we help our Earth abide... It's a reach across our differences that must yawn so deep and wide.
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So I'm pumping up the volume. Indifference? ...Just be damned! I'm smashing out of *boxes* where our spirits have been crammed. Emboldened by your silence, and revolted by "the man"? I'd prefer a kind acceptance, but I'm armored for your slam.



...And where do _I_ get off, eh? The answer to that is: "...where I will"!
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...And this just in at the AV News Desk!!!
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Someone try to tell Mr. Lehmberg that he is misleading, misled or mentally ill. Someone, please intimate that he's witness to mere birds, boosters, bolides, or balloons. Someone inform him he was seeing fairies... suffering vapors... or having an "episode."
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...Go on! Tell him!
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Tell him to, yourself, feel steel. Read on.

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