a menpleaser's paradise
I can promise you
this guaranteed allyship
my all out support
I'm going to be your friend
for anything—right or wrong
Scream, scream, screaming:
Help those drowning
all around
and they look to their coffers,
and the piles fill into the coffins--
The tide is coming in and the flood
is just getting worse:
there's a rage building in the dead,
and we'll speak for them.
Wretched bodies flung into a funeral pyre,
and the silence is deafening upon the pile,
and we see our love burned to ashes,
and we see their hands deep in pockets.
Cold hard cash for the winners and
death sentences for everyone else.
There's a cold rage building in the dead
and we'll speak for them.
The march of the dead is coming and
pitchforks are on our side this time.
Too big to fail too big to fall to big to take on
too big for their own good too big so
let's build ourselves and let them know
we're too big to ignore.
There's a cold rage building in the dead and
it just keeps growing and
we'll speak for them.
If we're face down, six feet under, it doesn't matter
if their cash piles grow and grow
in the face of God they pray, bow, and pretend
it's fine as long as they say sorry
and it won't be.
A cold rage is building in the dead,
am ember burning
threatening to blow it apart
and it just keeps growing
and
we'll speak for the dead.
Doorstep
Automatic mode,
Our minds can also close off
Noticeably so
I was once so god damned rich
Might be hard to understand
To have anything you wish -
No matter how large or grand
For many years I did own
In the heart of Beverly Hills
The very loveliest home
With all the finest of frills
Two acres and twenty rooms
Silk sheets gold plated brooms
Maids drivers and every tool
My life was easy and very cool
Then came the financial fire
Of two thousand and eight
I lost everything but my ire
For I saw the truth too late
Endless dominos were falling
Mandelbrot’s fractal chain
With human voices calling
In choruses of deep pain
I had my share of dominos
And debt to crooked banks
So I suffered mighty throes
And to them give no thanks
The descent was immediate
The depression hard to stop
It seemed that nothing fit
And everything was locked
Irony - pair of dice in human hand
I say looking down at Beverly Hills
Earning cash - giving sexual thrills
In the back of some stranger’s van
You say it could not happen to you
You are too smart - or this or that
But if it did - what would you do
To deal with the new set of facts
Could you - would you - should you
Where - how - when and how much
Who with - what’ll you have to do
And will you ever again find luck
There are so many questions
When you are totally broke
And too many indiscretions
Before it’s all writ and spoke
I was once so god-damned rich
And now I am so damned poor
If it wasn’t for those I’d miss
I’d say - I don’t want any more
Lyrics:
"he's such an uppity motherfucker
dripping with douchebaggery
but he's got swag..."
* * *
a collective of offended morons
who share a narrow world view
with every keystroke
prancing along with blinders
to pervert what they see as truth
internet superheroes
hive minded individuals
who see insufferable injustice
in every word uttered
a culture of victimhood found
in every innocuous glance their way
the first world problems of today
magnified by fanatics and sheer idiocy
social justice warriors on their high horse riding on
one way trip down the rabbit's shithole
"it's ok, it's all a fucking safe place"
"the world as it really is and always will be can't hurt your delicate sensabilities here"
"just cover your ears and close your eyes"
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!"
la la la
la-tee-da
la la la
la-tee-do
la la la
this has nothing to do with you
la la la
la-tee-da
la la la
la-tee-do
la la la
but maybe someday you'll piece together the fucking clues
we're the disease
and there can be no justice
as long as our race breathes
we'll always hate
we'll always kill
we'll always subjugate
we always have and always will
lyrics:
the wretched amongst the purists
quietly creeping along the outskirts
no conscious, no remorse
take it all through force
your freedom is not thinking
your freedom is not thinking
may there be no peace
may there be no satisfaction
melding together the scraps
destroy the means of edification
victims of cause
colossal the bonds
scourge of the cat-o'-nines (alleviate through the pain)
taking the time (forgiveness takes restraint)
no conscious, no remorse
take it all through force
your freedom is not thinking
your freedom is not thinking
pleasure in the pain (you reconcile)
the promises made (you reconcile)
victims of the cause (the wretched amongst the purists)
colossal the bonds (creep along the outskirts)
scourge of the cat-o'-nines (pleasure in the pain)
taking the time (the promises made)
A great land filled with crooks and tyrants where shall we go. My great country once but now taken for everyone not their foes. Born here and all that I know, Grabbing my kids and on we go. Looking high and looking low for a place not so greedy and trying to not let the sadness show. We all line up to vote to elect someone else better, but not realizing the one we gave vote was swinging a fake banner. They promise a future for then and for now we wake up to realize that is was for their fat cow. We beg for our share for them to care but they hear us not I’m just glad we have our cot.
Written by, Rob Casteel
Treats, and Trickster's ghoulish-ly
entertaining the popular vote;
immigration reform is on the ballot
once more, looking more like a
menu dessert item, condiments
cost extra.
Masks covered by masks,
Costume Forums, a masquerade
masquerading day and night, dreams
and nightmares. Knocking on my
door with political propaganda as if
my views were wrong for being
different than theirs.
There is no US or THEM only YOU
and ME standing united, our fall
divided by a vote, which most live
and die for. The only vote that counts
is what the MAN says; voting is a
systematic approach to classify the
masses, labeled mindsets, puppets,
a trickster's treat.
Soulkritic® 2014©
Faith is unbound by extremist pressure,
Lick the wounds of a liberal fissure.
The point-blank wound given an emissary,
A Soluble cure for the target preliminary.
A fast food chain of asphyxiation,
We give up hope for the stationary.
All falsehood gospels of visionary,
Cough and whine under political disciplinary.