Posted by Erik Moshe on Thursday, April 12, 2012 Under: Rhymed Verses
Circumcised Sirens, Abandonment of Time
You're so harboured in the cavern of thought.
Antagonist caught in a pattern, distraught.
Normality swallows reality, vomits it out for balance as apathy's lost,
but found again upon a canopy, rationing hearts…
A snowy marsh covered in broken glass and frozen ice amongst the homes we have will lead to mostly bad forensic science.
Testify against a demon in a sweatshirt bleeding from the neck, eating the pieces of a dead bird?
Teething on the Sheepskin for a while at the table.
Designed to give the Glasgow Smiles to the Angels.
The vile is enabled by Goliath with his face turned inside-out staring with eyes subdued, unstable.
Death is in rotation with your eye upon a dreidel, spinning.
Dying is the faith of Christian lives that God created,
symbolize the fall of fake religious minds with hearts dismayed and ripped to bits and wrapped in plastic, with no Tylenol for aches and twitches.
And we'll have a toast with cups of evaporated blood.
Drink it up and get drunk from the masquerade of love.
Masks to lay some cover on these sad, but faceless thugs.
Black and shaded but it's all a romantic game to us.
The House of Balloons. Cling to a string.
Sing with no reason and such a rhythm-less beat for the King that breathes for the ceasing of sweet life,
leaving it screaming at the Dance with the Devil during our meaningless fling...
Understand it’s in our minds…contaminants feeding off a leech.
Monotheists entering cryogenesis, freezing all beliefs
Guarding posts with garden cloves, spectacular Jurassic asylum
The serpent’s tongue ring… and it’s painful lack of saliva
Disdainful, cackling hydras in the blackness of silence - the wrath of Poseidon
Harps strapped to spinal cords, enraptured by the rattling iron
Vassals in vibrant shambles designed to withstand the mantle of fire
The battered Damascus horizon -
Candles of Zion burnin’ like matchsticks on the backs of your eyelids
Consider it classic when we’re sporadic with the passionate rhyming
Moving forward, uplifting fallen angels, that’s what the captain decided
Deliver us from Lucifer? You’ll get smacked if you actually try it.
Become disturbed in fields of Korn…then listen to Godsmack if you buy it.
Far from average tyrants. Religious spokespeople for the atheist masses.
Beatmaking in basements with Clapton who’s patiently clapping
For the uproar from the age of the Saxons with their aprons and talons
Longboat masons with axes and the cutthroat naval bases that backed them.
Deep burgundy waters painted faces with action at daybreak, wrangling Krakens
Slight burns in the iris, submerged in the Tigris with the reptilians
Swimming in shallow tides to the sound of calloused cries, pirates of the resilience -
You’re a thrift shop martyr, a fraud, a cheap savior - sinful
Enough blood has been spilt in the timewarp, at least save a little
Next time you’re waiting at the ninth gate of hell…
Consider the thought that you should’ve brought the key makers with you.
In : Rhymed Verses