Jon Pear (a.k.a. NeuroAster)

CAUTION: this poem is scary stuff, not4kids

In Uncategorized on September 18, 2008 at 6:40 am

You, the master of power-control, you demand blood, gold, and silver for your strength

Youth is doomed in the name of your own crown and throne; iron-fists are flattened in your wrath

Kings and pawns can be crossing a new border; just draw some imaginary-line

Take the honor, and brag at the sky; gloat and stand smug; just be proud of your design

Stand over cultures like a great giant glutton over a banquet

Shout vocal thunder to the mob; enjoy your most definitive moment

Yakkety yak and blah blah and crazy talk into microphones

Making the sense a mouth makes in front of multiple multitudes

Sicken the human stomach; play the mass trick

Tension, alarm, and panic, make it all work

All of the constitution burns to smoked ash

All of your gains are losses; even friends clash

Once, you stood by a bucket, and held the handle of a mop

Gazing into an angel, the pelvic valley of her lap

Wear a costume; forget who you were; wear a pale clay mask of archetype and myth

You, the master of power-control, you demand blood, gold, and silver for your strength

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