Farewell Carpenters (feat. Half Wit It)

Posted by Erik Moshe on Friday, February 10, 2012 Under: Rhymed Verses


Half Wit It

A walk to remember, back when the thought of it didn't hurt.
We built a life together - the splinters are still immersed.
Quench this bitter thirst; a purpose that vengeance serves.
These many twisted memories are footprints in dented dirt.
Wordless, I've learned to vent the rigorous turbulence.
This mirror's forgetful so the ripples make perfect sense.
I found the graves in our happy place and disturbed them.
The road to perdition, doesn't have any curves to bend.
Bury me in Germany - or rather burn what's left.
But let my urn reflect, that I've earned respect.
They said this distress would lessen if I weren't intense.
I'm simply going with the flow of the current events.
First divorce, then cancer; both at horrible times.
If only I knew what was going through the Oracle's mind.
The frigid dreams grow in lue of fortune's cruel signs.
A flickering bulb dies, thinking it's important to shine.
I've got the foreign blues, cryin -
bout how poems mean more when you rhyme.
Broadcasting life stories over the morning newsline.
It's time to meet your father but I'm warning you, Brian.
He is a good man, but that's a poor excuse to like him.
If he seems friendly - that's calmness before the storm.
A common trick, he hasn't called mom since you were born.
But on days like this, when the sun's closer to view.
Turn to the sky..cause I'm watching over you too.


Goodbye..



Vulgar


"He is gone, is gone, to the bosom of the earth; His cup of sorrow is overfull in the land of the dead..."
-Ningishzida, God of the Underworld



Home does exist under this robust eclipse, upon the stone's rugged riffs
Shephard staff entwined, two serpents, double helix and a coldblooded hiss
Branches from the infant tree birth arachnids -
Lavender petals fall from the helipad in whirling ashes
This city is a burning matchstick
Branches from the infant tree birth arachnids
Lavender petals fall from the helipad in whirling ashes
This city is a burning matchstick, flickering, turning, the image discerning like the lick of a bourbon
Iron wrought gates exhaust flames - limit convergence
All ye' who enter the limerick, the realist version may experience the realest inertia
On cobblestones that look like they've succumbed to the heel prints of Persians
Greed paved tombs from slum ballast - subways reclaimed by the substratus
Kiss the wormwood in this free nation of love ballads
Hive minds rely on high times, and their carpal nectar coordinates
The lambs are more silent than they used to be - it seems that Dr. Lector is born again
Cell walls close around the town fountain as martyrs lecture on moral sins
Who knew the inside of an atom contained human architectural origins?
Civilization was never the same when partial vectors were sorted in
Hoarding in "The Classic Movie Soundtrack of God's Collective Abortionists"
Elder tribesmen walk on morsels of kin, ambrosia drenched
On pathways of turquoise verbose as decomposing skitsophrenics re-compose the skits
Deep erosion hits the shore within reach of foaming pits
Letting the frozen dome patrollers know this winter season's over with
Why do people with the most brittle souls gravitate towards inner region obelisks?
The debris littered road to salvation, with embers weeping over it

In : Rhymed Verses 



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