Light of darkness; shadow of light;
dimmed the wits of mortal men...
Grave the dangers, endless blight;
nothing insatiates mans lust for them.
Power begets corruption, distrust enforces hatred;
wisdom never embodies the haughty and bold!
Ruin comes after pride, prejudice is its mistress;
turning all you have learned and suffered to fools gold!
Rubbish eats its own legs; gravel entombs his fields;
those who sow lies, never rest, nor go empty of reap.
Fake friends betray themselves, true loose the shield;
defending more important than perseverance for keeps.
Establishment crumbles - many bricks can't keep up;
many debts bankrupt, much vinegar rots tooth!
A thousand friends more worth than the bling and buck;
how many would understand the wisemen's sooth?
Only a stone falls easy, dead fish swim without relent;
hardship is proof of living, just not always the right...
Seek justice, but not notice - avoid the fervent;
passion sometimes like flu - inflammatory blight!
What is your insight? What is your want?
Success is an attitude, dost not seek wisdom!
Those who want "Prevail!" don't listen to: "You can't!"
all they can fathom is Country and Fandom!
Seek bounties beyond sight and riches yonder grasp;
that will succeed those who journey for riches!
Kingdoms fall and nations degrade - alas;
only safe haven shall fare for those like the bitches!
Wisdom is not safe, knowledge not always sane;
intellect rarely sound, included by titles and valor.
It's not sought after by glory, its not looked upon fame;
lore don't keep good accounting of, nor is it kept in a manor!
Head back, if you wish to fare well - dost who seeks wisdom -
abandon is all what awaits, if you should proceed your endeavor!
Those who hope to get immortalized in life - this dumb!
Better looking for window dressings or nice garments wore...
Friday, November 9, 2018
Monday, November 5, 2018
I don't like you
Like me, like you - there is a difference
over the pretense of common sense.
I don't like you - don't trespass my ports
as my gates are kept by poison Ivy and wormwood...
Loose me at don't and miss a shot
to take another turn somewhere else
to witch day I hunt my own wilds.
The game was fair enough there as...
Don't touch me, as my poetry strips you apart;
making you naked before your minds eye
I like to love others who don't exist suffocating
on my own social injustice conglomerate,
emanating a touch-screen on demand..
Virtual reality is a bitch and it seems to glitch;
as soon I hit the climax, thus I don't like to pay the piper.
Who stole my yellow pages for Assassins Creed;
I have a new mission for them sanctioned by the Pope himself...
Actually it was Pepe le Pew and the other loonies.
I got Axe for you - I mean deodorant, for you smell like Hell.
Oy, quit playing Diablo while I'm assing smart sounds with my
vocal cords, what want to twist your tongue into an oxymoron.
While I twist it around in your ears and stomach...
My phone got no broadband, so I imagined it instead.
It dimed on me to nickle back my alley and hump a white whale.
My dick-jokes there mopping the floor with Charles Dickens
and Wordsworth, contracting a wild disease of rapping my fingers on the table.
An edge-word is sharper than a sword. You may now pass your leftover time to me.
I meat your offered loaf with breadcrumbs and boil your witch into a raised steak.
Eating sand was also fun since kindergarten, especially bullied to do lists!
Watching faint gestures dry on a given face or occupation gives a lot of intel about...
Sad faces never buy and tears never speak the truth, unless its the front of a Mercedes...
the back of a Porsche might agree on this as it hits on a Lamborghini Miura hanging out
with a Ferrari Stestarossa and McLaren P1 standing next to P3 and chanting:
"The power of three shall set us free!" I could swear Halliwell was turning while engraved
into my coke-dream of too many strong double coffees with extra cream and sugar!
It tore me apart to be so ass-smart that wisdom was snorting his milk out of his nostrils
as I walked down the corrupted memory lane. Even Superman didn't save me af;
the Cryptonyte turned pink! What was I meant to do without a Savior and personal Jesus?
Farewell to your dreams and broken bottles burning down a scarecrow shooing away my mares!
The more the merrier as I callously deceive you to vent on my torment what was meant to be
But its not anything but all and nothing. Just the Butt. Jesting the gestures of G-force
in your endorsed enforcement of color-palettes what had no black and white silver-linings.
I followed the bling into the thieves den and got ruled over a stand-up correction facility...
As I stood silently corrected I foreclosed my philosophy into politically frivolous notions...
Nothing sells better than a booby-trap built into a booby-trap fucking a transposed prerogative
what never even existed, but was still expected to leave its impact on the course of his story,
what was never written or given a strain of thought nor contempt to be more than a Unicorn.
Maybe if written in unicode or Unix it would be a thing... You never know these things!
over the pretense of common sense.
I don't like you - don't trespass my ports
as my gates are kept by poison Ivy and wormwood...
Loose me at don't and miss a shot
to take another turn somewhere else
to witch day I hunt my own wilds.
The game was fair enough there as...
Don't touch me, as my poetry strips you apart;
making you naked before your minds eye
I like to love others who don't exist suffocating
on my own social injustice conglomerate,
emanating a touch-screen on demand..
Virtual reality is a bitch and it seems to glitch;
as soon I hit the climax, thus I don't like to pay the piper.
Who stole my yellow pages for Assassins Creed;
I have a new mission for them sanctioned by the Pope himself...
Actually it was Pepe le Pew and the other loonies.
I got Axe for you - I mean deodorant, for you smell like Hell.
Oy, quit playing Diablo while I'm assing smart sounds with my
vocal cords, what want to twist your tongue into an oxymoron.
While I twist it around in your ears and stomach...
My phone got no broadband, so I imagined it instead.
It dimed on me to nickle back my alley and hump a white whale.
My dick-jokes there mopping the floor with Charles Dickens
and Wordsworth, contracting a wild disease of rapping my fingers on the table.
An edge-word is sharper than a sword. You may now pass your leftover time to me.
I meat your offered loaf with breadcrumbs and boil your witch into a raised steak.
Eating sand was also fun since kindergarten, especially bullied to do lists!
Watching faint gestures dry on a given face or occupation gives a lot of intel about...
Sad faces never buy and tears never speak the truth, unless its the front of a Mercedes...
the back of a Porsche might agree on this as it hits on a Lamborghini Miura hanging out
with a Ferrari Stestarossa and McLaren P1 standing next to P3 and chanting:
"The power of three shall set us free!" I could swear Halliwell was turning while engraved
into my coke-dream of too many strong double coffees with extra cream and sugar!
It tore me apart to be so ass-smart that wisdom was snorting his milk out of his nostrils
as I walked down the corrupted memory lane. Even Superman didn't save me af;
the Cryptonyte turned pink! What was I meant to do without a Savior and personal Jesus?
Farewell to your dreams and broken bottles burning down a scarecrow shooing away my mares!
The more the merrier as I callously deceive you to vent on my torment what was meant to be
But its not anything but all and nothing. Just the Butt. Jesting the gestures of G-force
in your endorsed enforcement of color-palettes what had no black and white silver-linings.
I followed the bling into the thieves den and got ruled over a stand-up correction facility...
As I stood silently corrected I foreclosed my philosophy into politically frivolous notions...
Nothing sells better than a booby-trap built into a booby-trap fucking a transposed prerogative
what never even existed, but was still expected to leave its impact on the course of his story,
what was never written or given a strain of thought nor contempt to be more than a Unicorn.
Maybe if written in unicode or Unix it would be a thing... You never know these things!
The Fall
Leaves change colors - I stand alone;
above the rabble, the Fall on my high horse.
It crept its head on and crossed my mind...
And it snowed static transmissions in a missionary pose,
my vanilla ice-cream didn't like to swallow.
The Nightingale agreed on my Raven to play Canasta
and hit the pinata a different time as the blind folded.
I coined my breathe mint into concrete walls and ivory towers;
for we don't need no education and thought control
while obstinating others to Fall down and bend over.
Winter is not coming, it's already there - Everwinter and Evermist!
I mist myself and the last thread of caution as the geese left
down Mother-river and Fatherland. The Fall!
Something was hibernating inside of me, calling out Eldrazi
the count was negative 5 but I didn't give a fuck.
Starting up democracy, after my deck-protector had lost the game;
a new beginning, gaining momentum from juggernautic endeavours,
berserking the shark share of lion and a hare inside the box - who shall fare?
The wilted leaves smothering my intellect and depression, craving for snow...
Who shall cover it up - the death and deceit, making it romantic?
rob nature of its colors and scents and sounds - to keep it clean.
And static voices there singing their lullabies, my bias didn't encore.
I saw bullshit walking down the road and taking a ferry to Elva...
The picket fences are great for a street-brawl if you believe "The Spring"
but it was Fall and I longed for "Winter" Please don't copyright claim...
"What does not stick, shall be hit stuck!" It struck me like lightning, when first read.
And I kept on falling to my knees and bending over the ravine vomiting into myself;
omitting the commitments to human nature and wisdom of remaining silent...
Ass - the virulent poses of the digressed masses, confused by a bystander
who walked away and coughed. He didn't mean betters, he was having a cold
and burning up. The chicken soup was not helping and neither did Aspirin...
Maybe the star signed some charts what could draw a map to the solution?
I just dismayed my conclusion to stay in touch with my depressions;
remain infused with my overwhelming irony of neglect and ignorance.
The more I amused, the more Jesters there created in My lapse of judgment,
against my betters and in contrast. How beautiful indeed, the leaves falling and the Fall!
above the rabble, the Fall on my high horse.
It crept its head on and crossed my mind...
And it snowed static transmissions in a missionary pose,
my vanilla ice-cream didn't like to swallow.
The Nightingale agreed on my Raven to play Canasta
and hit the pinata a different time as the blind folded.
I coined my breathe mint into concrete walls and ivory towers;
for we don't need no education and thought control
while obstinating others to Fall down and bend over.
Winter is not coming, it's already there - Everwinter and Evermist!
I mist myself and the last thread of caution as the geese left
down Mother-river and Fatherland. The Fall!
Something was hibernating inside of me, calling out Eldrazi
the count was negative 5 but I didn't give a fuck.
Starting up democracy, after my deck-protector had lost the game;
a new beginning, gaining momentum from juggernautic endeavours,
berserking the shark share of lion and a hare inside the box - who shall fare?
The wilted leaves smothering my intellect and depression, craving for snow...
Who shall cover it up - the death and deceit, making it romantic?
rob nature of its colors and scents and sounds - to keep it clean.
And static voices there singing their lullabies, my bias didn't encore.
I saw bullshit walking down the road and taking a ferry to Elva...
The picket fences are great for a street-brawl if you believe "The Spring"
but it was Fall and I longed for "Winter" Please don't copyright claim...
"What does not stick, shall be hit stuck!" It struck me like lightning, when first read.
And I kept on falling to my knees and bending over the ravine vomiting into myself;
omitting the commitments to human nature and wisdom of remaining silent...
Ass - the virulent poses of the digressed masses, confused by a bystander
who walked away and coughed. He didn't mean betters, he was having a cold
and burning up. The chicken soup was not helping and neither did Aspirin...
Maybe the star signed some charts what could draw a map to the solution?
I just dismayed my conclusion to stay in touch with my depressions;
remain infused with my overwhelming irony of neglect and ignorance.
The more I amused, the more Jesters there created in My lapse of judgment,
against my betters and in contrast. How beautiful indeed, the leaves falling and the Fall!
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