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This will be a famous poem
because its funny like
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The bridge over the hollow land,
wider, strains on the final course
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Villains breathe legions and legions for a while,
sell melting keys to open doors beyond an emerald sea
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Ancient history, at an end, (bygone, closed, completed, done,
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A metaphor is a meat map.
It’s meaty and it taps the meter.
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Darkness boasts the night.
The Sun is down.
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He failed; he ceased, to fade away.
Breathing out of his soul, the ghost,
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the dawnlight turns on day after day
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Imperfect broken glass and gems,
imperfect sharp streets, juxtaposed
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What the bleep did I know?
The real world is down the rabbit hole
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secretive sailing stones slide on ice wakes,
a mirrorlike smooth as glass clay death valley floor,
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the rock bottom blue
pipe-dream loner’s farcical
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a boyfriend, a brother, a dude
a guy, an uncle, a son,
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five billion,
all dead, they really did it
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the enterprise knows the gameplan
the goal is a gimmick ya know?
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stab me full of holes in the dark
stab me like the illuminato
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From beginning to end
I bore three stooges
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It could be It is in the cards,
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Society planned
destiny completely,
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they keep the organs
in jars and the soul
in oblivion
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Satan, treason, and foreign tension blacken reason for hidden intentions.
Fallen demons deafen diction, slogans, jargon, sermons, and fic
-
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Satan Prince of this World's
Goal is government of All the World.
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planet x will come
when the galaxy aligns
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“Guilt doesn’t exist. I have no home.” Nietzsche looks back from the abyss and laughs.
by cover fire hero
24 lines, 20 comments,
on Sep 13 11:12 AM. In nietzsche, world, overman, devil, angels, asylum, woman, blue, propaganda, God
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The woman is a beautiful virgin,
the loneliest in all of the land.
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The trails divide in the deceitful forest.
Denial walks along the coupled path.
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I hit a blank wall, chipped slightly, and made a call to God.
Damn the shadows pursuit against the wall! I got dead air.
by cover fire hero
24 lines, 20 comments,
on Sep 13 11:08 AM. In Dark, Hope, Pain, Sadness, Society, God, Death, Heaven, Escape, Abstract
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I. I was.
In the beginning with God.
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I. Judgement.
The sentiment and standards of taste
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A man with horns, scales and a bow
moves around a turnpike like a snail
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The Illuminati, it's ill.
It's you man. It's the Nazis.
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A tree falls,
And if you don’t believe me
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I scream this from my loins:
Two sides of the same coin
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The worst possible robot:
In the end all that will be left is plastic.
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