Meathouse Molecules

Posted by Erik Moshe on Monday, June 24, 2013 Under: Rhymed Verses


Sip the lord’s serum; chicken soup for the soul of the vegetarian dead
Sleep on the consecutive album of the year, we’ll watch the cemetery get beds
For half your life, you’ve had a slice of Machiavellian bread
Until one night in London, Jack ripped her corset, watched apothecary get head
I’m dead wrong. Clothes were flung on the domes of Kirkuk
Sepulchers and soot filled the town center when the culture was moot
Exfoliate coups formed the foam of a boot, bar code of “the state”
Marlborough’s debased - smoke cleared, if Karl Rove would escape
I spent days at the market excavating Huey Newton, Wu Tang, blues,
As Ku Klan brutes sat outside of Scrooge land stoops
If the cardboard city’s an iron prison, call up Cool Hand Luke
I’ve got a problem respecting someone with such awful direction
Because your competition is a phantom, like you were Gotham’s detective
Your obstetrician’s milking the sea anchor, trying to bottle a message
Shipwrecked on a life boat playing double jeopardy with the bottom contestant
Does life boast? Seemed modest enough. As clouds recede to wake the village.
The power to create the living can outwardly… abandon vision
I’m cancer’s wish list. I’m an opiate nursery food drive.
Mixed with dopamine purposely freeze-dried. Hercules’s new bride.
Hurts to be too sly so you have to balance the act, take your apron off
You’re better off sacrificing Dalmatians than being put in a fatal spot
Filleted and chalked on street borders, cheap offers, eyelash twitched
Café tables, peach saucers, green orchards, lilac rift
A Bronx Tale with a triad twist, coffee shop, microchip light-graft lid
I’m not a clever wordplay or a pun, inertia’s caked on my tongue
I’m a moment of nostalgia ready to take you to lunch for bakery crumbs
Solitary suburb barbarian, never fuckin’ with loudness
Throw up eclaires&cream so the Dairy Queen doesn’t get cow tipped
Life’s like a box of chocolates full of vanilla distortion
It may sweeten the regrets of misfortune, or whet your skeletal organs
There’s nothing like exploring a music store as a skeptical orphan
He even rode the Zelda train, learning about The legend of Mormon
A collage of broader topics, yes, it’s important -
Let’s put a smile on that face…that Heath Ledger was born with

In : Rhymed Verses 



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