Good look away

1.

I was looking for an opening, but no moves evaded the fork;

Knights navel-gazing dreams of Maverick despair –

shouting: “Lordy lord-lord!” like a bitch in New-York.

Birches and Cedar trees having a play of High-Elves vs. Bloody Orc!

Finding in the maul hunt that the others are indeed Devils lair...

Why should anybody wise up or fucking dare a care;

then the prices have glitter and War-Craft is the new pork!

2.

Dreaming of a silver lining, what wasn't made in China;

born in the USA or an Englishman in Harlem Globetrotters.

Black and White Russians, catcalling Margarita's pino-pino.

Robot boys Nocciod to Robin-galls on Ill Grande Excommunio:

Everybody wants to be a infamous dark Sith hotspotter,

while not being able to bust the milk in the shotter!

That's why the quiet ones sit alone AOL and whim-gnaw...

3.

Pretence is stronger than True-Real; Avatars better than Myself;

Me and I locked in eternal Baffle-Royal to lure the next Him.

Pentagraphs telegramming around to play Giraffe on your health;

as the hangover hits under the bridge to find some stealth...

Fat success expectations have rewards to merit, but skinny;

double down Autists find Nemo in the next Grim-face, who forgat to be Grinny!

Vitriol the new Saviour of Kamigawa to never return on Heavens shelf.

4.

The Good look away, as Evil is fornicating and priding their despots;

too cringey, to take a part, and cowardly to be last man standing.

Have a Good look away, for morrow will look indifferent vodka shots;

Bloody Mary's chasing after Cuba-Libre and Mojito thots...

Some Brandy Chemical Romances Bourbon the Bling for Branding!

Who shall be the Solitary Individual on Kings Landing;

speaking words of Iron price and no Gold out-handing?

The only God, what people know, is the not-enough-gots!!

5.

NEG around your neck; Nag inside your wise-crack;

Hip must be every sip your words ooze off your lips.

So many are bedazzled from the journey, don't find back –

the breadcrumbs eaten by Judgment of Crows hack:

What you peck is what you live; what you save kicks

in the nuts, don't give – hold on to your scrumptious flicks,

netted in the worth of sticky fingers, finders keep for the track!!

6.

Poetry is poverty, dost not your overtime say thus hitherto?

No leisure ever produced overtures, then you dost not pleasure

in owns pain and wither to... the path that slivers through

Hell and back, as you jump over the doubted Wall...

I and nobodies Erewhon, to backtrack de jure –

de facto all are begreatful after the deal is conjured...

Just be a happy bunny, if you don't like it rough!

7.

Who shall go onward, be the faithful Christian;

for Christ built no Cathedrals but chased out the merchants!

Who shall be the ensalter of Earth-Chan against obsidian

harlots and merited deacons, who claim giant-kills seances,

over their been-stocks they took great lengths to spill and trance!

Chanting in the rain of brimstone and fiery ambers commence:

“This is the Christendom, we ought to have cianed!!”