Obscene Orders........collabo with Baron P Mortuus
Obscene Orders
1-Vortex
2-Baron P Mortuus
You see I’m practically bleeding -- while you’re reading this,
Yet, perhaps you’re literally sleeping, so I’m achieving shit…
With what I writ, I mean wrote with grit from this grieving pit…
Which I call my heart; its strings are torn apart from tension;
Mentioned in the dark - my name became a stark repulsion,
As the notion of art I portrayed played - a perfect serenade
Each word hit like a grenade that made waves to eliminate…
The fears and demons that lurk to undo my true purpose,
No tears are streaming, still hurt imbues like a crude circus
Who cares for dreaming? I’m cursed and might move nervous
Close to the edge of madness… teeth gnash between flashes
Obscene flashes of inspired faith formed by serene dashes
I lean backwards to absorb an attack of black & white factors…
Simple but ruthless, vile foes remain wrapped in my chapters…
In this world full of actors – bullshit’ is’ practiced by masses,
Society splits into classes… they stay hooked to the chassis
As a few advance, & look to the Holy book for some answers.
Grave cancers beat even the brave into retreat, eaten by awe
Furore flows deep to the core; deacons are deceiving the law
I don’t believe them any more…- than fraudulent fraudsters…
Gorging on oysters, our Orb is’ run by government gangsters.
Fucking Obscene...
Shady villains ill with chameleon honesty- like burnt talons
Felons re-writing bills-crazed with pills-human repairs at salons
Alonso joined priest--hood did him-- no good drove him away
infused politics created by biologists using human lambs all day
Pray for father please forgive me—deceiving with dishonesty
Child lone moans against worldly unjust- bust his bubble probably
Rubbles create a monopoly—made by menopause—unwomanly
To not birth a child—so she shouts & screams burns her dreams
Desecrates tombs—containing false holy beings—seeing seems
Clouded—lies shrouded—ask Mr. Gov., he’ll tell you more about it
How’s it—drowse shit—then burn—burn fit in an urn—earn hits
Spurn away news blitz—false news channels—hustling institutions
What about the president—sleeping upon ordered executions
Use your intuition- what does it foresee?—a life of dirt + poverty
Maybe you’ll die a quick death, overdosing on gas—maybe meth?
Bless he who believes and shun he who disagrees. Bitch that’s church
Lurch at unproblematic issues---using tissues to ignore the surge
To just die---I said die—die die-die…let it end in a go---it grows
better fast than slow—run the blade down the street or up the creek
How about around that neck which breathes..Esophagus blows
and the blood gushes in your mouth—cutting short that racist speech.
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