Viva la Rebellion
Peter pays for Paul in this wicked age Dire is the end of this system of slaves Bemused by dazzling paltry things As the land turns to desert And the seas are besieged Poison air and plastic rain Pesticides pollute the plains Nothing left to call pristine As we capitalize off all the living
They think they own the cream that makes the butter Little do they know They think they are the kings of every land Little do they know They think their achievements are a world of wonder Little do they know They think their wealth is a bird in the hand Little do they know…
Death is a slip that makes us weep Yet a third of our lives are passed in sleep And the rest is spent chasing those things that cause to stir and agitate Tunnel vision beading in The works of futile hands Marveling in the craftsmanship that plunders every land Death to all the works of God As long as we get our fill
Angels be scary Can make or break the weary Of all the Earth’s creations Better run better hide when you see Hell Mary Ain’t nobody been to heaven Except the one who came down
“Speak it into existence And it shall be done” Said Good ole Lord As he sat on his throne “Vengeance is yours” I said to The LORD “What more can I ask than tables to turn?
Where is the love in professing an impossible truth? If the universe performed the impossible by spontaneously combusting itself into existence then the only retrospective possibilities are those that were born into the new possibility.
We fly High high high high high high
We can’t hide Hide hide hide hide hide hide hide No love too great No hope to high
What an awkward moment When you realize you’re wrong And everything you thought you knew turns out to be a con When you look around at the world you hate And see a reflection of you
Looming, cataclysmic, ill-fated prophesies taunt my daily reprieve A nightawk passing time Skulking Hovering Haunting Waiting A constant reminder of the things I wish I could forget
Why do you hate me?
(hate me, hate me, hate me)
Why can’t you love?
Today was quite the eventful day. First I had to do paperwork for an internship as a residential aid in midtown Manhattan; whereupon I took these snazzy pics displayed on my Hell Mary poem.
