deepundergroundpoetry.com
Tipping Conditions, Slipping from Religion
Pain’s simple test disperses hard
Bless even your cursed cards
Invest in the first part
To gain interest on mental wealth
Check those who cum from your chatter
Wreck prose for ones who run from patter
I rest flowing, test to show the stature
Of those after my rapture or grasping for disaster
Will they jest and sling and clown?
Or do their best to bring you down?
Game inspection, I’m aiming for perfection
No lame expressions, I train so busily
To stain Echelon with flows that span vividly
Until the breadth to go of that program and all that’s its privy?
STRAINS TO DEATH when frets ring so dizzy!
My name and Aftermath rocking true
Is anathema to “They’re watching you!”
When I speak others choke on screams
Nightmares with no rudder? I invoke reams
I delight to dare. I’m a freak who eats smokescreen
I was bespelled by the misplaced passion
Of ZOROASTRIAN Hell!
And dived down a forever after laughing well
Just to ride and scout, bottom to top of this route
And find what the last Apocalypse was about
That’s not mocking from my lips
What I’m chopping up in this? I’m devout
Won’t drop any bit to be flowing
Without knowing what I’m talking about
If it isn’t commonly mentioned
This isn’t humanity’s first attempt at this
Pretentious plan to scrounge
To hold 99% of the populace down
And tell them they were meant for this
Just kiss the ground and call it conscientious
Lying beasts and dictators. I mean High Priests and Traders
Planned to fit us, women and men and tidbits
Into support roles. Religion is the sport to console
Those cut short, whittled into the totem pole
I’m a bust out sort! No one else’s decision scopes your role
Because just like court, every vision ropes control
Your skills and your story are the fill of your worries
But swill and glory lends for free envy to maim to ornery
The will and sore disease of men so lame they’re sore with your glee
So they kill the steeze and the name of those born free
Untethered I aim to buck as I already played that war.
Weathered lame fucks who told me what I was made for.
As such we both saw through the riddle of solving individuals
And I lack peace in my chest for those who stack pieces for chess
And act regal, enrapt in the gleeful ladder mess
Actually feeble, tactically evil and unmatched in their deceitful
Shattered laughter “I guess…that’s what makes people their best!”
I laugh crashing stature, slapping the acts of curs who get so wrapped
In wishing they could get back, gack and send me to my rapture!
I stir and prod sins like Salome
For mature audiences only
I prefer no pardon to own me
Concur with impure guardians, no phonies!
No disguise when I spin blitz
I jive without limits
Whether you can ride for 5 minutes
Or fly for 3 miles
Play wild with freestyle
And everyday what’s inside will stay alive!
Bless even your cursed cards
Invest in the first part
To gain interest on mental wealth
Check those who cum from your chatter
Wreck prose for ones who run from patter
I rest flowing, test to show the stature
Of those after my rapture or grasping for disaster
Will they jest and sling and clown?
Or do their best to bring you down?
Game inspection, I’m aiming for perfection
No lame expressions, I train so busily
To stain Echelon with flows that span vividly
Until the breadth to go of that program and all that’s its privy?
STRAINS TO DEATH when frets ring so dizzy!
My name and Aftermath rocking true
Is anathema to “They’re watching you!”
When I speak others choke on screams
Nightmares with no rudder? I invoke reams
I delight to dare. I’m a freak who eats smokescreen
I was bespelled by the misplaced passion
Of ZOROASTRIAN Hell!
And dived down a forever after laughing well
Just to ride and scout, bottom to top of this route
And find what the last Apocalypse was about
That’s not mocking from my lips
What I’m chopping up in this? I’m devout
Won’t drop any bit to be flowing
Without knowing what I’m talking about
If it isn’t commonly mentioned
This isn’t humanity’s first attempt at this
Pretentious plan to scrounge
To hold 99% of the populace down
And tell them they were meant for this
Just kiss the ground and call it conscientious
Lying beasts and dictators. I mean High Priests and Traders
Planned to fit us, women and men and tidbits
Into support roles. Religion is the sport to console
Those cut short, whittled into the totem pole
I’m a bust out sort! No one else’s decision scopes your role
Because just like court, every vision ropes control
Your skills and your story are the fill of your worries
But swill and glory lends for free envy to maim to ornery
The will and sore disease of men so lame they’re sore with your glee
So they kill the steeze and the name of those born free
Untethered I aim to buck as I already played that war.
Weathered lame fucks who told me what I was made for.
As such we both saw through the riddle of solving individuals
And I lack peace in my chest for those who stack pieces for chess
And act regal, enrapt in the gleeful ladder mess
Actually feeble, tactically evil and unmatched in their deceitful
Shattered laughter “I guess…that’s what makes people their best!”
I laugh crashing stature, slapping the acts of curs who get so wrapped
In wishing they could get back, gack and send me to my rapture!
I stir and prod sins like Salome
For mature audiences only
I prefer no pardon to own me
Concur with impure guardians, no phonies!
No disguise when I spin blitz
I jive without limits
Whether you can ride for 5 minutes
Or fly for 3 miles
Play wild with freestyle
And everyday what’s inside will stay alive!
Published 8th Jun 2013
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