mercredi 31 décembre 2008

The roted satisfactions.

Fragments of my head have reached the sky of red torments.
Elongated in long flaming threads of green brain texture,
Synapsis of pounded connectivity
I hear the screaming of iron twisting on roosted bases.
When from heaven fall the angels of electronic metal
The ground echoes from the deflagrations
Linking up to world global government’s lines
I collapse on this true reality of sacrificed citizens,
Planed dead at the profit of some grasping blokes.

Fragment of peace blown out by the lock of our jails
We run in circle around the temples of lust
Selling brain condoms, and come back home
Pockets full of insanities hard covered
As books of dead religions.
I hear the screech of the expensive cars
Rushing the night from club to club,
Murdering at the same time some homeless
Too cold to jumps out the pavement they got for bed.

Fragments of my eternity float in spasms
On the ocean of alcoholic’s vomits,
Stopping for a while their laughing
For some meth sniffs gracefully offered,
Official dealers of human’s agonies
Allocate greetings and blame, according
If everybody walks in line or not.
And I hear the groan of feudal slaves
Walking on the knee to beg to stay
Half dead but still in the rules.

Fragments of my mind,
Drifting away
To the coast of
A voluntary isolation
Check the underneath wreck
Of purple chickens
Calling themselves
The glorious
And sanctified
Human race.

Fuck new year's day.


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