A Bird Called Neoliberalism

There’s a strange old bird on scorched southern ground, called Neoliberalism – a native by name, forged in backrooms and woken by profit’s strange call, its feathers stitched from bargains…

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Beware: Your Creation

In the dust of forbidden pages, Where candlelight flickers on trembling script, Old myths murmur warnings through the silence Of centuries shrouded in trembling breath. We conjure guardians from the…

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A Devil Among Us

Let me step from city shadows, Tip my hat and shake your hand. You might not notice, walking by, But, friend, I know this tangled land. My voice has echoed…

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