Figures of our mind
Bereaved and contorted with guilty awareness,
Witnessed through the keyhole of truth.
Illumined by the soul of a warrior of thought,
Illustrated with the voice of a true sage.
Caught in shameless acts of belligerence and conceit,
An homage to our world of damage and decay.
Hooded assassins and well-dressed politicians bleeding
Their hatred and greed upon the ravaged souls of our sisters and brothers.
Wrestles and handshakes form the language of our rotten foundation
Whilst heroes and heroines rise up from the shadows
And demand that we seek the truth.
Priests fail, activists reign, transsexuals stand proud, suited men recoil with shame.
Musicians call for honesty, police squint with deceit,
Poets write the pure word, alchemists brew the next tale.
Hell is Real.
Skeletal prayers sing above the smoked rivers of our land
And the blind walk the pastures of green.
The messenger is heard loud and clear as his image inhales the blackened smoke.
Oh Joselito, no quotes from the Book of the Dead,
From the passing desert’s death ship.
Boys search for Beauty,
Men hang upside down in anal humiliation,
Stern women of inner strength reveal ‘fuck the police’ inked forever onto their chest.
Ass bare cops plead for entry, whilst an animal lays slain by our hypocrisy.
Continents drift worlds apart, yet tribes of wit and force
Bring us to unite.