Society: Losing Soul Volume I | Page 4

the other side

Fictitious flagrant

fortune against

the Sky-

dropping moon,

too quick to judge,

too much too soon.

Fortitudinal stony walls,

stand in reticence

denied, enclosed sense

of damning self-maintenance,

Ten commandments,

Seven deadly sins.

It meant nothing:

jawed; jaded; jammed within,

flawed; evaded; slammed; or something.

Attudinal thoughts

spherical; encircling; ellipsing

eclipsing the self-inflicted

virtual virtues conflicted,

then infamously detected,

ignominiously depicted.

Vultures, a mile-high,

smile right, playing eye [I] spy

smelling intense, lack of content

that was not my intent, I’m spent

sacrificing painful delusion,

blood-stained cries and rues of confusion,

precipitating precision in tradition.

Gravely late to naively escape,

ideas collecting dust in a library filled with fake.

Occidental death-trips, traps

cease to exist, narcissistic

inordinance in order to appease

Gods horrific, unrealistic,

reduced to historic hysterics

of rhetoric ballistic and seductive,

selective caressing, just messing,

blaspheming supreme stressing

in surreal peace re-addressing

repressive stagnating blessings,

public contemplations, guessing

revelations and non-stop confessing.

So real. Piece-meal. Kneel.

Feel the steal. Biting deceased steel.

Harassing skin ethereal.

Accidentally rampant

even in the deepest

spirit of being,

rolling words and lines

are really not what they seem,

crushing inside like

spinning tsunami is mami call me ma and I melt, murdering Freudian tempests in Orion’s night-light Belt

I’m dead, in his Hamlet bed,

soliloquies of crazed lunacy bled out instead.

Invisible bodies, shadows, sit and listen, stood and read,

eyes filled with tears of evidently silent silouhetted uttered dread.

Lips lusting for greed, spawn of Satan, feed the freed,

Guilting pleasures of spilling seed in speed.

For what need? Believe dem words dem heed,

Assymetric cyclone, gyaldem heart dem bleed.

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