I go door to door like...

Posted by Erik Moshe on Sunday, July 17, 2011 Under: Rhymed Verses

Consider your choices - hazelnut chocolates, the cherry of Mary Magdalene
Mostly Mona Lisa smiles back, then they tell me I'm very badgering
Putting their fists in my face like Kelly Pavlik
- and any ravishment is met with rudeness in many instances
Witness Jehovah's witnesses witnessing the pillage of innocents
Mahogany wood architecture built from the kin of minutemen denizens
If I poked my maniacal head out of the frame like Nicholson I'd splinter the images
You've come to percieve as the truth - Nightmare on Elm street consumed our dreams in our youth
The C.R.E.A.M. of our youth. The C.O.F.F.E.E. B.E.A.N.S. of our youth
I've seen the recruits joining the armed forces to pay for their debts
Stationed, waiting impatient in Czech - Uncle Sam's aftershave smelling like the fragrance of death
On the concrete slab of their regret, paving what's left
Global puppets - before we hear the whole word we already know the suffix
In a time bomb, baking in this metal chamber -
"Apocalypse now, then, behold the last toaster oven!"
It's hopeless, he feels like no one loves him, hence the cold percussion
- of syllabic gales that sent the darkest omens upwind
Consumption was the impaler of Vlad's valor
And my warrior ethos lies beyond the condo pool gate leading to Valhalla
Take a good look at the bondage in the future, city rejects surviving by cooking garbage
William Wallace selling girl scout cookie boxes - watch his tour de force manners
Mother of pearl meets cubic zirconium warhammer -
I tried making it by, a few bodies of thought and a petty check
But I stuffed those back in Dahmer's fridge, the world wasn't ready yet
I'm in need of a life foundation, something people condone
Medieval in tone, a grassland littered with dead blackbirds, a cathedral of stone
My deepest condolences go to James.. I mean, the giant peach was his home
When my mind's at peace in it's zoned, sublime sequence I try to keep it controlled
Follow an outline; mimic bacteria, keep to the mold
Speak from the inner regions of soul in the best Louis Armstrong voice I can muster
"..Cotton pickers used to bleed in these groves
and that's the reason we reap what we sow.."
- standing on ant pincers and pineneedles with our feet in the snow.
Gather your theories on 9/11, scrutinize it's decayed sinews
Okay, Nostradamus predicted it - nah, maybe they just wanted to pay tribute
Get with the program in this no man's land - every human who exists knows
You'll be a lot happier with a microchip embedded in your wristbone. :)

In : Rhymed Verses 

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