Nobody ever won, a seat at the highest table, whilst won-dering. And, to be constantly; marred by a demagogic dream’r, is a storm, of reveries thundering. A costly sermon minus refunding Him; makes an irate, antagonistic – hurricane of a redeemer.
Whilst your back is turned, knives will poke; fun at you. When your knack is spurned, the wicked spoke; not of truth. While your shack is burned, evil’s smoke; chokes anew…
No matter your serial number. The seas, rivers, and, waves; crash asunder. Filling gardens, cities, and, graves. Technological roads – forbidden knowledge; did pave. Yet, generations are left here, to wonder, their brains forever to wander, mental marathons amble, and, lumber, on how; many, souls will be saved.
But, that question; is already answered. When the meek; become mighty. And, the downtrodden; are lifted up by the righteous. By good conscience, and, moral upstanders. Whom delight; in the defeating of cancers.
I’m often, mentally, brought to my knees, with melancholy, when I think, of, the utter callousness, of, the human species.
My cerebellum’s, figurative, grey, grazed patellae are; a metaphor, which compound the pleading, within my mind, for mankind to stop, and, think.
Think about our selfish, greedy, unflinching nature.
Think about our incredible lack of foresight. Foresight, for not only our fellow genus, but, the wider amalgam, of; wildlife, biodiversity, planetary ecology, and, ultimately, our world, and, universe.
Our arrogance, and, sense of self, have become, our own baited, foolish, avaricious universes. Solitary, loathsome universes, filled with; galaxies of material wishes, solar systems of Internet based gratification, constellations of exploitation, and, nebulae that beckon fruitless, divisive competition.
All in the hope of ‘getting ahead’ and/or ‘becoming a star’.
Ironically, we are all composed, of; stardust.
And, on that basis, I believe that we should do everything, humanly possible, to create our own; galaxy of justice – here on Earth.
A galaxy, where, instead of compete for monetary wealth, (a practice which has long seen; each, and, every genius star, capable of contributing any egalitarian offering to humanity – “miraculously” being snuffed out by the establishment e.g. Nikolai Tesla etc.) we, lift one another up, amasse, and, unite – within our; ninety-nine-percent nebula.
By eradicating, the elitist; Black Hole, we, together; can create real, monumental change. The kind of change, which will, echo, throughout; the generations, heavens, realms, and, multiverses.
Whilst standing idly by, the so-called ‘elites’ will continue to; imbibe our misery, bathe in our systematic poverty, mop up any hope of our revolution, and, spew propaganda, via every form of media, to poison the minds of; every generation, it has the manical pleasure of tainting.
The time is now to; expand our minds, gravitate to one another’s plight, and, escape, revolt, and destroy; the elitist Black Hole, which delights in our unchained servitude.
Shifting the gear, clutching at nostrils. Eight hours; of undulating, pedalled pleasure. Communally imbibing Christ’s blood, like, twelve apostles. Resurrection; found in a spirit’s – double measure…
A snifter of hope – blown into a smoky bottle. Three graveyard shifts later, the zombie’s bottleneck is throttled. Followed by – three days of manic, forsaken terror. The fear imprisoned mind; crucified; by pedantic Aristotle…
Painting the frown; Dread. A beer-goggled gaze – locks onto a clown’s ruby-red smile. Brushstrokes of panic, turn the landscape; a greyer shade of lead. Judah’s lion, and, lioness; have already been defiled. The fledgling doves; have found heavenly peace – as; vertically, they have fled…
But, for, we – desolate few; escape is futile. Eden has gone. From, ethereal garden, to, shed. All trees, plants, flowers, bushes, and, wooden panels, have been collectively burnt, and, shred. By pasty, secateur-ing devils – that beguile. Who ask for details, to stop, and, search, the saintly, for a while…
Cuff, beat, confine, and, brutalise, without proving need; the “lowerbred”. In their eyes, a twinkling morning star, cast us down. But, righteous children; always rise. Ascending high above – Babylon’s screaming, burning lies. Losing blueish, busied noses, to spite; in the face of systematic – destruction, and, denial.
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