Radiation Will Be The Judge To Which You Will Testify

Posts tagged “political poetry

Scourge of Depravity

All hail saints atop gates of platinum

houses of pallor, housing scores of cowards

insinuating detrimental defection

duty dereliction

sickness infecting those too fearful to glower

raining metal power to truth

long lost, our hours of youth

sitting insect-eyed, viewing the tower above

The strongest photons cannot penetrate granite corridors

where the horrid lore of shame, supported unrelenting

by tyrannic abhorrent whores

swiss-cheesing the constitution, found unkempt and

ill-prepared to face threats of cave dwellers

rave lunatics that subsist on slave propellers

visions of paradise, there’s not a grave they couldn’t sell her

now our republic, threatened, but not by mujaheddin

just a smoke screen for the real bandits

if you have a better example of zeal, hand it

walking on a one way course into an inescapable gambit


Beaten Senseless

Wipe the dirt from your face,
filthy, frothing mouth with satanic desires
I am not even religious and can see the devil in you
I am not even religious, but i know what your savior says about,
murder, adultry, coveting, stealing,
the tasty sins, too much to swallow,
too little morality left to sway now
I know that the benevolent creator, that smashed, in one supercharged, nanosecond,
googolplex atoms together,
to make the elements you steal time and again,
raping our earth for the wealth of denim pockets,
for those cuban cigars,
and a christmas bonus to keep the stranglehold secure,
He did not intend for this,
His son did not speak of this,
The disingenuity of our conduct is disgraceful,
murdering more innocents than tinpot dictators, distasteful,
purported by the very souls who claim they are faithful
If you truly believe in the book you hold,
then stop capitulating to the lord of darkness,
standing silent, placid, and tame
while we raze our mother for everything she’s worth,
and destroying the beauty that we used to possess

Land of the Thieves, Home of the Slaves

To our beloved homeland,
two nations, two colors, under fraud
easily divisible, with media misery, 
and justice for few
Welcome to the land of the thieves, the home of the slaves,
where you are a criminal for keeping what you earn,
you are a criminal for speaking what you feel,
you commit crimes, if you, like castro,
refuse to tow our line
Welcome to the land of the blind, and the home of the graves,
where pretty faces litter shiny vision boxes like bloody graffitti
bloody thieves with red hands and full pockets, yours empty
they claim “god sent me”,
while your bread is stolen, accept it serf
Welcome to the land where others bleed, for our homes, depraved
Your domecile sitting atop skull dust and dried marrow,
no more pleasantries for the natives,
And what you own, is not really yours
and you are no one,
deserve no status,
if your afflattus reads: Ive tried, ive cried, ive strived, ive plied, ive belied, and i am nothing, but really poor
Welcome to the home of the moral diseased, singing the chorus of thieves, through loud speakers, to proud tweakers,
believing those with skin brown, are weaker,
while your commerciallay stained dreams are bleaker,
Welcome to the land of the imprisoned, and the home of the gracious,
you praise the lord in buildings, but turn your back on the salacious,
homeless heroes are dead, except to the cement and mice,
all because you spit on him, when he returned, forever spurned,
you’ll never learn, forever cemented to fiat vice
I don’t see freedom in bondage,
i don’t see treaties still true,
except that when you make colossal mistakes, you see it through
That is ultra-blindness, like a farmer left swineless
and the criminals that bond you remain falsley sheltered and spineless

A Gun Shot to the Head

Such is the fate of innocence and idolatry
When confronted with the amalgam of half-truths,
that float to you in the night,
glowing like fireflies, trapped inside glass tubes,
blinding you to what lies behind the glass,
Why don’t your eyes perceive,
instead of allowing punditry to paint your picture for you
what is wrong with your logic
has it failed?
has the engine inside the ministry of truth broken down?
do you choose to tie your shoes in the morning?
does your skin bruise, while you watch death, dead, and the mourning?
do you yield at railroad crossings,
sun-flavored warning lights, the only remaining signal,
attempting to warn you, that your fate is to become a carbon- buttermilk pancake with type-o  platelette syrup
Who ruined your membranes, and sabotaged your neurons,
so that they may fail in times of need,
why do the  soul-diseased dine in greed, 
plates of dead skin, making yours pallor with pain
please open your heart, rip the stitches fighting your eyelids out from beneath subcuteanous layers,
but be careful,
nothing is more volatile, than a loaded gun, hollow tip in the chamber,
or knowing your life is a constructed farce,
lamenting, led astray into the burning fields and fences