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Stop January 30, 2013

Posted by JP in Poetry.

Feral whispers call me,
echoing in empty skull.
Beckoning fiercely to me
urging my screeching lies.


Whisper death of humanity,
sing the song of corruption.
Play the game of malevolence,
rolling dice of life,
betting on saintly failure.


In earth’s swirling mass of slop,
mankind’s society ebbs.
Cloaked in madness disguised as right,
masked in hatred painted in light.


fueled by selfishness, guided by greed {demon’s seed},
Camelot dreams shrouded by pedestrian schemes.
Bohemian desires eerily lit,
by suburban housewife fires,
and death’s stench permeates,
from crawlspace of wasted minds.


Tomes of ostentatious rebellion,
bound in popular garb,
cries for change sounding the same,
from lips stained with blood.
Prophets of a new age,
shrieking with manufactured ire.


Feeding on the souls of the stupid,
shouting defiance to the evil,
which they, themselves, perpetuate.
doomsayers of end-world,
prophets not, yes – profiteers.






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