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Macheaveli Creed

amoral greed

brotherhood of devilish deeds

born from demon seeds.

 

Real power roles from the darkness

of the “...Shadow’s Fist!”

 

Hiding in creepy dark places

from the light

sneaking

slithering

in the night.

 

Crawling cowards undercover

acting in cowardice

with stolen rights.

 

Creeping unseen

amongst the dead living.

Waiting in silence

unclean.

 

Leaching high

off corpse’s blood

of the innocent dead

in mockery of any religious hymn.

 

Slashing wide and deep

with it’s excarrabin.

To administer the viper's death sting

in crippling fright

on moonless nights.

 

With bellowing thunder,

and a bolt of lightning.

It strikes covertly,

undercover of darkness

in the absence of heavenly light.

 

The band of Brother Hood,

the unholy Creed

want you to believe

that only them,

and them only

has needs.

 

While the innocent

are dropping like flees.

Take heed,

bow down your heads

in total submission

on your knees,

and prostrate yourselves in defeat.

 

To beg for mercy

mercy, mercy please;

for the devilish Clan’s

respectful abuse and foul use.

 

Devouring your rights

like a carnivwhore

in a fresh meat grocery store.

 

The unfolding of armageddon,

in the malicious pouring rain

for the Shadow’s unholy gain.

 

The Shadow’s minions,

who follows the dark direction

for their vile gains

with compound expense

of the innocent’s pain.

 

The Shadow who owns their soul

and had given them their gold.

Allowing them to hover above,

and beyond society's moral codes.

 

To act outside,

and against the RULE OF LAW

for evil things are hidden

when the Shadow calls.

 

If you don’t have the Shadow’s protection;

your innocences will not save you,

your riches will be forfeit for the grave,

and your illustrious fame will be maimed.

 

Not even the UN’s civilized codes

will give you a safety hold

when the Shadow decides to act bold,

and strike you down dead cold.

 

An invisible ruling class,

that stomp and munch on the lower cast  

who members empty hearts

are stitched together

with cantankerous yarn of dark’n souls

to form an evil gummy web of sort.

A strangling grip

administering pestilence and sin.

 

If you go to school

the shadow rules.

 

If you flee to the Police

there is the Shadow

in the midst of them

pretending to enforce the peace.

 

If you seek assurance in the bank

the shadow has full rank.

 

If you run to the court

to defend your freedom and claim your right

the Shadow will make you a sport

of an unrepresented spectacle of sort.

 

Beg the Human Rights

for relief of inhuman pain,

and they will cast you into Hades purgatory blob

dispensing an evil gray mist

far beyond the “River Styx”

without a slight hiss from the lips.

 

Try your Politicians

for they will not listen.

The dark puppet strings

are pulled from within

the deep cold burning blackhole.

 

Ruling the world

from their dark closet in the abyss.

 

Real power roles

from the “...Shadow’s Fist”

 

We were all fooled

into thinking the people rule.

Coned with a constitutional hug for our fleeting plights,

and the betrayal kiss of guaranteed inherent rights.

 

Kings and peasants

Lords and serfs

Oligarch and the human property

they sit on

in the claimed country they love to wrong.

A beast of burden none the least.

Slavery is still slavery,

and it comes in many insane names.

 

Try stepping on the toes

of the Shadow’s goals.

From their layer

in their spawning holes.

 

They will strike you down

stone cold

with a screaming gatling gun,

in the stinging rain

of laughing hyenas impacting pain.

 

Where Corbiest in a never ending sight

feast on cadavers in delight,

and vultures in their black white collar robes

enjoy the festival of the innocent living bold.

 

In a world where people are told

equality is the rule

Freedom-Rights are taught in schools.

 

There in the same,

in a dark corner of the glass prison room.

A blood sucking black mold

that swims freely in the world

defiling Gaia's pure green pearl.

That make widows want to die

and babies want to cry.

 

We may call it the Shadow,

which live in the black void hole.

Leaving amoral decaying slime

of foul stench and decadence

clinging

sticky

malodour.

That all the waters of Niagara falls

could never hope to wash off.

 

For only the Shadow knows

from whenceforth it came

to conquer this domain

and rule in it’s thousand year reign.

 

When the Shadow calls

from the cracks in the dark corners in the halls.

 

There is no escape

except to fall,

and lament in unsilent protest

without any rest,

and a benign defence.

Leegal Poet