Ledgenz - Regular
Myself - Itallics
All I need is one life...
Speak my name, no more jokes – matter fact fuck a title
Touch no bible with no hands to God – hoping with luck the sky will
Open to destruct what I will – but religion’s run amuck with idols
Incisions that’ll touch the vital – my visions of such recitals
I admit that I look up to rivals and suffer trifles
knowing that as such my child will
Have a better life to lead – mind still travels at hyper speeds
Death concurs and conquers when life agrees to lie in peace
Yet strife impedes and gripes increase, inner hatred becomes a silent beast
Violent beef inside you creeps and steals thoughts like a strident thief
I shot Salomon;
Gamora longs to rest sin's head in his prolonged songs
to pay a plot of testament to the knots of our sedative God's palms.
All along we bled, and then there were 10... Bred to stone, hendge
eye's raped a cumulo hope before those stones laid a lone bed
for vice to strattle virtue in a church booth;
I confess, I attest to my dead.
In line with the meek to inherit the earth and share in it’s worth
We apparently weren’t aware of the curse like a parent at birth
Believing that life is grand and fair at the first
Becoming gods or just summing odds – just impairing the girth
Some portals not meant for mortals – simples can’t reach Olympus
Venturing with fractured sentences hoping to increase the interest
Give priests repentance – I’ve no need for friends or kinship
Now I can dance with daddy's body around my pants and lobby
the ignorant hands to gather round and command our bodies.
Receding – my feet are drenched as when I bleed the sin drips
Don’t need a deity to free me from being – it’s senseless
Breeding a vengeance against those who feed me repentance from unholy vows
Still you holier than thous used to kneel to golden cows
Now spoken in scrolls you found supposedly on Moses’ mount
Of how supposedly I’m going south for the views of which I’ve spoken now
This isn't religious backdraft it's a passive resistance,
last act to contact auspicious contrast because odds are in
flash sequence; this life could last as composite image...
If I could focus this vintage lense for just a second I could book this past
for future visits, so this successful living would last behind the looking glass
on those 80 degree days...
were the sun breathes deep and those open hand waves aren't pacts,
No! Those are brash acts of desperation and creation of last laughs
Rippling off attraction from the soul of hearts gone black
and mouths gone stale in braille humidity were we now begin to pass.
In reality you hope you’ve found a way to ease your mind a bit
Find coincidence embellished to make a sign of it
In my mind it’s time to quit running bull in china with this line of shit
Resign to submit nevermore – no reverence to a reverend whore
For every sign of six you affix I’ll reveal seven more til heavens door
Opens to accept the scores flocking to your metaphors
Blood shed of or for the masses as if that was what your letters’ for
All I need is one life!
One life of my own, one wife and a home
Spoken from a god on an unlikely throne
Broken by ghosts, give me one night alone
Hope lost for hosts, imprisoned, unwriting poems
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