The route of all evil is not a short cut

Posted by Erik Moshe on Saturday, June 16, 2012 Under: Rhymed Verses

There’s no backdoors or scapegoats… just axe gores and slain throats
Iraq Wars approached at face value - translated to cracked jaws and bankrolls
Estranged, numb enslavement, to instincts that enflame up the matrix
Route 66 at Death Valley indoctrination center, trained suffocation
Earthen angels and water demons on our shoulder blades become enraged & abrasive
We live in an original century where sinning essentially is the crux of nations
The road to the holy word of the landlord is a highly bombarded understatement
We’re treading the same path that Robin Hood and the maid must’ve taken
Religious conversations debilitated, confiscated by rich pagans who willed it
Why admire God’s wallpaper when the devil’s strippers are hanged from the ceiling?
Several ages of ancient instilment praised at your neighborhood Hiltons
In stately concealment, a ticking time bomb, a morality machine, crazy, an illness
They burned him at stakes, it hurt him to say it but Lou Siffer was makin’ a killin’
He even fell asleep on the grave he’d dug for his various victims
A visionary with vicarious wisdom who supported the same precarious systems
Leader of the traveling rapists: ovarian pilgrim, built like an Aryan villain
presumably boosted by the fumes from the area where he buried Presbyterian children
The press would bite on it, he’d receive coverage of tearing mothers
He’d retreat to cover in the darkness of the forest before he could be discovered
It was mind over [crime] over matter and the path he’d taken was cognitive
While he’d wait with the book of sin open on his lapel like a patient theologist
No spiritual entrapment based on Catholicist mongers, those groveling throngs of men
He longed to bathe in agnostic kin so that many Rosemary babies would follow him
Cauldron rinsed, dried by snakeskin blankets and hollow vents
Hell or high water is all a myth - it dissolves before you swallow it
Perhaps we can finally understand why the mind is so intolerant
There are good and bad choices, that much is extracted from our ghostly teachers
No apocalyptic biblical imagery, unfolding vernacular from the scrolls of Egypt
Walking through the shadowlands with a band of thieves wearing the cloaks of Jesus
We combat appalling forces in our thoughts, sometimes we cry in submission
Our good side says:
The Virgin Mary’s miracle pregnancy, survived by the mistress
Our bad side:
She was a harlot, a vicious liar with a number of vaginal conditions
The pages of the bible becomes a scrimmage like any other book of faith
Further puzzling muttering priests who trot about the labyrinth of crooked fates
The effortless coup, the genesis fluke, Vatican cabinets measured in loot
Rivers of blood that extend past Moses’ splendid canoe;
The sick burden of freewill,
a demented present meant for the few that a wretched “devil” imbued.

In : Rhymed Verses 

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