Herding Humans
The last poppy, death on fields of digital green, Syndrome of ignorant hate that binds all men to converge ourselves in warfare as dust, Ash napalm uniforms all that's left over after the rage fires, both sides to blame. Televised hate reports all we bear witness to lately, Repression back into human farming where sexual trafficking is absorbed by boarders for profit, The whole Earth defined by a single word, symbol of nothing that drives humanity forward; Profit. Greed over morality surrounds the mechanism that is society, soldiers slaughter, piss on a new form of hidden pillaging, foreign civilian pyre allowed because we're equality blind, Life is ever so willing to live this lie: A physical object of has more value than human life...
X-static platform of the last line ever written of poetic verse, Bleeding out of acid reign viens deep underground, The only thing left on the planet is misunderstood identity of self, No take backs I detest this life yet I cannot regret myself... I'm alive though I never wanted or asked for it; Hypocrite blessing is the fall, cut my ties and swim into obsidian isolation in death far away... Down the valley of fear, past the bullets in blue skies where the graveyard of souls begins.
Plague of the hypocrite is gossip, Don't ask says the last line written, plea to please forsaken doth the poet beseech the giver of black words, Dare not tell... Me of the toxic persistence of white lies you're living behind, Crimson pews aligned in rows before a puppeteers putrid pulpit, Ignorance we allow so willingly as to slip back into the fathoms of that which is... Comfortable.
Manifestations of war justified by profit or god(s) all around, we gave up our own impression(s) on life long ago, Sedated we walk to appease the debt landfill of death we rhymed with frost on the edge of town wherein lie the unmarked children in black body bag graves... As I live and breath I can taste their pain, F*ck off, After life's sanctioned curfew residing friendless on the lowest platforms of life before walking as one already dead... Leave me the f*ck alone, I'd rather bleed out under acid rain or a singularity bullet shell slowly travelling towards the oblivion heart, where my black soul dwells.
Beat the drum & march thy feet, Hell awaits those who find themselves trampling equality for profit into dust, Command to conquer marionette army of subliminal minions preach the front lines of propaganda to thieves, Their (e)very neighbour.
As we prey, yearn for something we can never obtain, compliance of will to contentment, bravery in virtue to submit, Lives defined by our obtained dust surroundings bestowed upon us by debt, We're naught by lairs, Fear mongering warfare enticing ignorant hate mongering whores, Set this society of sedated followers of a deluded lie labelled economic confidence alight. March us off to the shores of war, watch us take part for profit... We're silly creatures now, just as we were once before in an endless cycle of apathetic self proclaimed national manifest destiny choose a god delusion.
This is my home, not all I know, burn it down: that's my resolution.
On the seventh day the atheists refused, Singing a melody they hand made, A eulogy to the world never proclaimed, It lies like their soul in oblivion, Alas the shame.
Post dramatic hearts stress fracture wound,
String theory synchronized intellectually abysmal a theist dream,
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