Voice 6: No man plays sport with a god, Sans future sporting warts of frog. So can it be, in the course of wrong, Lies retort the support of a cause? Change lies about, but why bother? Energy costs in dollars, So am I to be in this world? Where there is no king under god, Nor a czar for the godless, Only flattened, artificial sod, Tragedy and rape for the goddess, Upon which we clap in full form. How am I to remorse, or reverse decision? Upon a world which would deny procession. In my opinion the wheels still turn. Minor character: I see. Minor character leaves.
Dancers one day may not dance, Pain upon contact with lands, Success but a dumb chance. Impressed with numb hands, Stumps ambling upon a man, Attempting to please the master, Intent cast upon the sand. The glass woman shatters.
This following poem addresses my peers: Clearly this year was reminiscent of past, In fact that nothing of value was cheered. Clearly this problem of chance is too vast, To ascertain we need a compass. None is available, so we fail by chance, Not lack of ingenuity to justify trespass, Nor the hypocrisy interacting with fans, No, some invisible god blocks our path; Impossible to pass, without empathy, Untold giants rest among the math, Turtles are shells, medicine is homeopathy. In regards to that, please take care. Next years forecast gives me quite a scare.
No wave easily embraces a shore, Yet broken it finds solace soars. Beyond is sea, pale godless, No effect easily saves scores. Yet a violin plays of the whore, Upon the pier, praying for goddesses. A boat launches without birth mother, Father never sees need for guidances, Tragedy is compassions' like brother, Yet time must pass or we tarnish each other. My tragedy at sea was like no other: I believed in no Poseidon of fate. So I found no place safe to wallow, Waves endlessly chased my starboard, Port too was nothing but ocean onward, So I trumpet ironic prayers for rain, Anything to wash away my shameful act.
I transform retribution, I collide with an enemy, Destined for fusion, Corroding my memory, Crashing the computer, That is me. I open on pretense false, In hopes to gain my loss, Yet no fate goes uncrossed, No face goes on unmarked, No bullet grazes, They self aim and kill marks. In honesty, I hope for their retribution, Not believing what you do, I find no institution for truth, Investigations reveal soot. To conceal boots under sock. Truth should be implied, Secrets shouldn't even be whispered, When no secret knock is employed. Among Imperials, two faces clash, Destroying the child middle, Purpose born was to protect class. Among the tyrants, A sleeping dog, His brother opposite, A sleeping god, Purpose forlorn and meaning lost. Shoot the gun across, regardless, Trees grow from the river, Implying a garden should exist. Yet at the bottom I find no solace. No mythical beast of which to conquer, Nor mythical flower of to tame beasts. So no feast among mythical followers. Sewn feet no longer bother to move. Brooms no longer even bother to sweep. I see Cost front by the citizen, Expected which are also to clean. Past participle's partisan cuts so cleanly, No partisan is left opposite to thee. Clearly, No god laughs, Sincerely, No god falters, And no human shots cast, Except into human carnage. No gain for loss, No pyrrhic victory, Due course. No force of sympathy, homeopathy, anthropology, from the horse. No, mostly poor choices. Voices ringing with phones dead. No voices in his head, Scream morality. of course. No soldier gains a victory. sans cost. None recognize the courage, of Hailey's comet. So the gunfire blazes onward. Amongst the slain, are the slain. Those who shoot have bullets same. My Deschamps is but modified Spinoza, Which I modify to fit in holster, As exactly as I imagined her, Far above a reasonable caliber. For a man who lacks resources, For as a woman he lacked chorus, Pestilence amongst the formal courtships. How do we create such a melody? Such harmony of utter melancholy. How do we classify such insanity? Such discourtesy on our society. Such, bullets access and exit quickly. Thus is the mark of beasts. Thus a heart no longer beats. Almost lack of mention was lack of faith. Remembered and forgotten to become same. All lost the castles of old days, Only sandcastles remain standing, Reminder of temporary management, Of how well that pays. I depart to vent, Find myself post-traumatic, I start to mention, Find myself post-dramatic, I mark myself bent, Find myself post dragging. Hoping to move forward, Forgetting that lost in battle. I sigh, I realize that's not possible. I stand purportedly screaming peace, Screaming bullets purportedly corpse. I stand in face of uproarious force, Screaming should-haves, Scoring for would-have, Who now will manage. Tired, I cast aside, Casting stones seems now juvenile. Especially in a world this finite, Who needs to choir for killing time? Button press' jest as being less vile, Truth as masked chide, Who now will bandage?
Silent time reveals, Beyond the winters passing, A light forever wanders, Yonder others dancing. Of nautica they sing, Navigating nothing, Fabric of all space and time, Dark as oceans lovely.
If you're called queer, but you aren't a gay, If you rub beards with the same fag, Maybe my lips are cleft, Might be my lazy eye, My sexuality is wild. Pharrell: Come dirty it up! I take off all my clothes, Prepare for masturbation, Acting all casual, Prepare an invitation, Ask her for licks and spanks too, No, No, No, Don't want to rape her, No, No, No, Men satisfy my anger. That's why I'm giving gay life a whirl, Not genderphobic, But you wouldn't know it, I'm afraid to show it, But I want girls, But I let guys blast me, My face gets nasty, All covered in man skeet, I'm talking bad times. Not genderphobic, You wouldn't know it, I'm afraid to show it, But I want girls, But they won't grab me, If I do they slap me, Gave up and got past it, Pharrell: Come dirty it up! Why do I dream poor? My life never screams fun, I spend nights on YouPorn, Used to all this dick in my face, Somebody fuck me, Oh, oh, oh, Who wants to fuck me? Oh, oh, oh, Smoke dimes, Come fuck me. I take off all my clothes, Prepare for masturbation, Acting all casual, Prepare an invitation, Ask her for licks and spanks too, No, No, No, Don't want to rape her, No, No, No, Men satisfy my anger. That's why I'm giving gay life a whirl, Not homophobic, But a little bit dope sick, AIDs epidemic, Got me all butt hurt, On which sex I should marry, Not based on who loves me, I'm talking a party, I'm talking bad times, Not homophobic, But a little bit dope sick, Let's hope I don't get, Stuck without girls, Or without laughing, At a guy that's jacking, Me off in his panties. Pharrell: Come dirty it up!
No gain for loss, No pyrrhic victory, Due course. No force of sympathy, homeopathy, anthropology, from the horse. No, mostly poor choices. Voices ringing with phones dead. No voices in his head, Scream morality. of course. No soldier gains a victory. sans cost. None recognize the courage, of Hailey's comet. So the gunfire blazes onward. Amongst the slain, are the slain. Those who shoot have bullets same. My Deschamps is but modified Spinoza, Which I modify to fit in holster, As exactly as I imagined her, Far above a reasonable caliber. For a man who lacks resources, For as a woman he lacked chorus, Pestilence amongst the formal courtships.
Left-hand turn, Going 'round it widdershins, Seems absurd, If going 'round's done by a prince, Without a girl, A kingdom where two men are kings, Oh, what a world, Full of gay and shiny things, And yet we curl, And limit what we see in dreams, Oh, what a world, Fuck man and girl in sets of fours and threes, We're not worried, We'll get married to our companies, The fucks insured, All sure we're fucked contractually, All sure it's pure, Consummation makes the fuck complete, Seems absurd, You're raised so that your mind competes, Submit to words, Love for nothing, Twiddle your box; Accept defeat.
We stand upon nothing, The precipice of canon, Software of happening, My floppy hardening, Female ports plugged. Shrugging I continue plugging, Is this thing even turned on?
In jealousy they salt the earth, An appearance for my demise, I die and no tear falls perched, A fitting design for a tyrant. In jealousy you all despise. Hypocrites stall the trade of curd. Poetically their dreams are poor, No science behind an abstract score, Chipping in a two cent piece, When the wishing well is already full.
Wave functions collapse, Pitch blackens attack, There's pressure in here, Still, floating, relaxed. Motion an act, Motionless shadows expand. World is but a Starship 3000, Stand still with inertia intact. All purpose for this study is incredibly wack yo.
I traverse the dark of the caverns: All I find is bottoms and laughter. Palaced me within a circular pattern, I find no gains, And no means to make with. Yet I find no pain, So is it easier to make wishes? Than to actually fulfill them? Is it easier to scale a building? Or easier to commit this build? Maybe it's even easier to stand idly by. Planes fly into buildings, make six billion.
Out in the doldroms, it's just a cold world. Winds of change brew but die in a wave fold. I'm incapable of change, You're incapable of the same. So it must be predetermined, Hard determinist actors mimic a proper stage. Lately I've been looking for a cage, To preordain my life to hide from slaves. Complacency locks people in a cage, Claim preordain is to lie of the blame. Out in the cold world, you make your own. Ride the wind or die in a wave fold, If you're incapable of change, Often your life is predetermined based on status, So if the last thing I see is a image phallic, Last thing they see from me is one right back.
Quick, snap some pictures so my friends can see my band. We don't have any good songs yet so they wouldn't understand without the glamour shots. Quick, take some stammered stills while I hammer shots. This will be the best band to make it the top without a strand of talent in our hands. Don't tell me how to raise my band. I know what music looks like; tactfully unplanned. I write Pizza Hut music like Ariana Grande. I expand, and so disband. My drummer had demands, and ignored my commands. My solo career takes stand. Quick, snap some more glamour shots so my friends can see firsthand depraved aspects of my brand.
I am with my peers. Although you forge careers, In favor o' honing craft. It leaves them bereft, of talent. Dreamers dreaming dreamscapes, Of dreams they never even had. When will they part with inaction? Or finding meaningless meanings? While meanwhile the bridge burns backward.
A relationship couldn't hurt you. They call her whirlpool. What? Cannot water purl, lest swirl? Cannot the girl circle? Without countess' calling Birle?¹ A charity now, discounts jealousy. Apparently they want your man... Maybe the man they seek is a boy. Attracted to kiss curls and cute girls. Ensnared in world's trap of spit curls, The world is full of geothermal cores. Moreover she's 'so hot', She only explores herself. I walked right into the flower shop. Honestly I'm not looking for vagina, I'm just looking to be the primus.² Footnotes: 1. Swirling Water; Masculine Name; 2. The 'one'; The first.
Founded in response to clamor, A missive written by cowards. I found it couldn't be read aloud, Without the sound of laughter. I also found it dismissive, Critical issues are clear. An attack on my character, Expound from the rear. I respond with kisses, The critical issue is context. So it appears, they fear progress. They fear a progression of issues, So it appears, they clearly want this.