deepundergroundpoetry.com

.:Kleer Rantz:.

Assorted views brought on board. Faulty images depicting drawn swords
Swashbuckling images dodging four door Fords
Caravans of Crown Vics chasing vics without crowns
Onlookers attempt to determine how it just might go down
And it continues to be profound� Strike an accord�hardly ever
Still it spills clever as sanity gets severed�Versions differ
Sentences get stiffer. The escalating riffs; their ascension grasps & grips
Amplified by how many and what caliber of clips
Survival and progress, now that�s a trip. But, it doesn't go anywhere
None of this crap makes one aware. Where someone who doesn't live here
They impregnate the atmosphere with repetitive beetle dung
Just look at how it all begun�Drugs, Money & Sex
Bloated, hedonistic, without a semblance of Life Affirming or Positive Effects

It�s midday or midnight� Everything�s missing except the traps
Melodies played; nothing but gun claps.
Muffled by the calculated moans of baby mamas
Baby Mamas with scarred hopes and the car keys�
Car keys given up by that new Sugar Daddy
That latest Poppi promising to please..
Promising to please while coming up off his knees
He feels pleased; ever so blessed by that blow and that booty
Captain Hook, got the hook uses and promises Ma the double duty
But she knows as she blows.. �that baby needs new clothes and
why not except another lie
As long as one can buy into the present state of affairs
So with a devil may care attitude she submits to dude
Not contrary just a limited visionary
One who doesn�t accept God nor believe in the tooth fairy
Yeah this is the crapshoot that�s real scary

See we them bad brothers... The boldest of The Expendable Others
Continuing to contribute as active donors
Each and every time we set out to bone her
Just thoughts of oozing out cum
With our minds not reflecting on those potential outcomes
Not merrily�we go to and fro haphazardly
We do it with sincerity looking for that new lie
A new bargain demanding both our time and our energy
Wherein paid dues are no new news
Just part and parcel of each individual�s own blues
As we�re juxtapose to sick situations�alotta trumped up charges
Trials and errors with the presiding judge oversight provided by
Today�s Modern Day Pharaohs
Indistinguishable, yet made uniquely sensational
Done in by our own irrational self made calamities
Energized by our very vanities...It�s a disgrace
How we attack.. as we get attacked at our own home base
So what little we have becomes debauched underworld societies
With gentrified plans for our space to shrink; this thing�s on the brink.
Quick view The Link. Look and pay attention,
Look at whose being removed from this human dimension

Let us NOT fail to mention.. These are the times of unchecked sadness
This is madness...In dispute is our happiness
Where when you fall; no one seems to care about your wellbeing
Folks just look away; acting like they ain�t seeing
And the ones who do see seem condemned to look all puzzled
That�s the result of the act of muscle or perhaps the lack there of..
This weakness in heart is unyielding with the people appealing for more
Give us more size 4X �Stop Snitching T-Shirts�
So we can pretend to have freedom of movement
Another bogus display of motion...a false display of emotion
Obviously no devotion to a community...
A community undergoing an onslaught by its own self
Killing off its Own Wealth

Meanwhile� it�s midday or midnight
And there are still and have been a continuous flood of open & closed coffin ceremonies
And in the wake of these wakes there hasn�t been any real reason given
No reason given to think they may subside.
Proof positive is in the numbers that have already died.
All or mostly prompted by crossfire�s which went unchecked
Due to mostly or all our communal neglect
our lack of respect. Our Breakup into Disorientated Sects
Or has it always been that way? And now it�s just more of it.
This continued clamor & chaotic bellowing of self hate
A hate of everything that reminds us...of us� And what sold out to integrate.
An integration into the "opposite" of what should have been
What could have been...A people free from fear of the wrong thing.

What is this? When did this ambivalence become the norm?
Was this before or after The Storm?
When did we become hunkered down engrossed in listless apathy?
Have the Decepticons trained us not to see?
As we settle for and go around in optical denial
This as our hearts...our hearts slam shut the door to any agile discernment
Zombie like in hushed wonder. Wondering if we can just get through it
As we piece together promising each other Mo �Betta Times
We need a March of Dimes to challenge this okie~doke like it�s polio
Just maybe tho...even a plague of cataclysmic proportions
It just might summon people�s emotions... Because, now...RIGHT NOW
Everything seems so petty� and no one weekly and weakly is ready
As Political Will, still remains unsteady and it�s...T.G.I.F.
The Game Is Fake...it�s false and totally malignant..
Soft shoed to our liking

What is this? How long has The Quicksand been up to the thong?
How long has this thing been going wrong?
With wiggle room at a premium with nobody seeing �em
The coming or going and still not knowing
Intricate the capture of Our Minds
from Capitol Hill...all the way back to Kush
Without power to push away the Reigning Debris
Free, us, we from this tyranny�this tyranny
Enacted by Closed Minded Institutions and the mindset which produced �em
Feel me? Then thrill me...with a bonded together position of Third Eye Witness.
Questioning, always, questioning..
What the hell is this?

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