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Trampled Brethren
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Dalek
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1
With uncertainty i ink my final thoughts on unlit blocks
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Niggas caught on heron nods
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Stil at odds with false gods of archaic age.
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Angelic face wretched with pain ignites my flame.
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Your mundane daily life amazes me
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Such complacency.
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Tattered city once brimming with life now sits abandoned
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Some feel these thoughts to random
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I hand them their empty heads as main coarse to DaVinci's Last Supper
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As they sit in wonder.
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Abundant sun pours over ald steel and bricks
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Filling my aching eyes till they split.
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I felt my earth shift, contort, and twist.
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Lift heavy brow to view what happened to my tiny corner of dirt.
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Worthless soul too old to care
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As despair builds thick amongst my people.
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From burnt steeples hear distant toll of bells
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Ancient tongue swells as one lumbers with prenatal language.
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Manage a coarse throaty mumble to convey how this earth crumbles.
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I tumble, close to where I've been a million times before
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Free to ignore pain which pounds at human temples.
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I resemble less of a man and more the dirt I tread on.
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To my trampled brethren,
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Heaven won't accept you!
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Either you or it don't exist.
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Consider that a gift
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As we walk through that mist filled vally
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Vulnerable souls tell tales of ill proportions
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Scorching RA soothing moon, soon to dim
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My travels at an end, light bends to dark
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Jagged crossed sticks manhandled as scripture and art
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Picture your Christ as blond and blue eyed,
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As mine resides within confines of empty glass bottle.
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Robbed of youth i wobble past society and rest my head on curb of reality,
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If only for a nap,
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To grasp for that which we lack.
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Remain trapped in these three dimensions
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Mention I once stepped past, now viewed as insane.
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Trained human pets scurry to cubical for food pellets.
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Next funeral for those who think, cause thoughts are relics.
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I smell this viscous odor on each face I meet,
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Seems humanity reached peak in 20th century.
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My jaded eye strains to see through a smoke-filled room.
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Consumed by books which speak of our past
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At last begin to piece together our beginnings
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With few fleeting seconds till our end,
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Quickly cross that bridge you bum,
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See what's on the other shore.
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It's lure magnetic
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In our drunken minds
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Poor feeble shell hoping for so much more
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Left entranced by ancient dance of emptiness.
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Few are the blessed who feed on truth's breast.
Daleks vs. Cybermen: A Conversation Betw...
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