sábado, 17 de fevereiro de 2018

Painted hierarchy(A piece of the tentacle)

The dog barks deep guttural barks
The high fences loom like cliffs above
The guards appear dead and motionless
From their steel boots to their steel gloves

In I walk to hear the outside world has been engineered
Through systems so clever, propagating confusion and fear
just a blind member of my peers, a sacrificial goat to a painted god
A proud soldier plodding, on the frontlines targets deem me cannon fodder

In I walk to find an empire sprawled and reckless gorging
Fat and gorgeous over the world an invisible octopus roaring
My heart and brain a spectacle, cling to the tentacle
One ticking hand grasps a paintbrush, the other a sickle

I exit the halls of the walled and painted elite
I ask nothing more than the world's defeat
I humbly request the ownership rights to the world
Your rights, your goods, your labor, your gold

For I have painted me at the top
shamelessly
I have grabbed destiny, older dynasties went out like candles
I painted my own portrait above the mantle
Words march into reality
voraciously


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