Gas Mask America (feat. jube jube)

Posted by Erik Moshe on Monday, February 4, 2013 Under: Poetry
Put your jovial masks on
Be happy on the verge

Put your jovial masks on
Be happy on the verge

It can be as colloquial as you like
A colony revolutionized on oxygen tubes
Sugar crystal mines extracted
The sweetness – is not there.
There is no longer a coated sealant
to cover the mouth of the girl
from Cherynobl
Leaning against the stable her father owns
Blood pressure unstable
Leaning against the stable her father owns
Obliterated by..
Inevitability.

Wasteland tempests storm down.
Wear the oxygen masks,
The bunker palace.
How do you breathe?
“This is why I am master, I am creation.”
Apostrophe, clear and cut.
Plasmid tankards, the source of power.
Shower the foes. Scour the globe.
The gasoline flows. Shrug the unknown, Atlas forgotten.

Ask the man beside you
Where have the brown canyons gone?
Where are the jet setters and the students of
a quarantined future
I don’t see the faces anymore
The copper hands surrounding a courtyard of welded stone
Eloping until a pause of events
The intro deceives, I’ll tell you that much
Shockers that come next are electronic lentils
latched around my neck like the hairs
of an unseen tree spider
Spinecatchers -

Wherein the Game Begins.
Soundtrack of carnage pervades the atmosphere.
Invade, create the feared. The force therein.
The ultimate sacrifice, death, the vice. Do not fall.
Remixed! Matter meets mortar once again.
Stop, rewind, and it all makes sense.
Push it once again, creation begins anew.

In : Poetry 



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