Son of a King

Does Man really know what heart is? Fury over logic, bliss it’s a trip, they’ve got you trapped into facts lacking intelligent contemplatives. Stained teeth exploding wisdom splitting up a united kingdom for a par with the queen’s head, nations built on blood spill matter of fact over kill, wash it down with mulled wine and barbecues: a spoonful of medicine, astute living substituted for disfigured mannequins whilst I’m screaming inside my head, you can all bear witness and testify, and repeat it invisibly under your breath…I wasn’t meant for this earth; I was born to higher planes. I’ve let living clay drag me down to salacious levels of fake sane.

A concoction for social delusion, a messy mass of human conclusion, key players pose peace as a means of destruction, signing up to shifting idealisms and human constructions, identity splits my body aura from an innate inner soul which spits out my environmentally factored spirit to regain control, and here we are again sliding letters over difficult men killing alphabets against slanderous diction sets, voices ridiculing disfigured senses, dense phonetics spelt out for you so you can clearly hear significant silences, sauna runs across your avid tongue spilling acid in my midst, live ammunition to slay the pre-tense in your enamoured convicted penchant for ballistics over sense…

I sear thee my dear I take allegiance my liege, sealed in waxen oath, your liaison, lies eh son? officiating lucky levels beyond reasonable overdose, you who offend my oxygen, pristine existence: suspended comatose, breathless, caught implementing decryption you see but you don’t have credible evidence, building up a case from concrete malevolence searching for deliberate deliverance, rasping knuckles with backstreet gangsters ignorant of angst from innocent youngsters, race against trace against losing your face, you’re laying out foundations, incarcerated, blaming fated damnation attacking nails in decorated coffins: inflating salvation for a colossal duration born of stealth…

Synthetic just is, blowing up our masjids will never be enough so murky, merking keys, this, it’s meant to be mind over matter just ice and peace, my reality shatters chattering chapters against benevolent teeth, quill filled then felled by jubilant superintendents supplementing refreshments sipping on doughnuts dunked in tea, fresh intelligence replenishes meticulous contractors contemptuously, contentiously ignoring the former in substitution for the latter you see, scatter your two face lack of grace shame faced collage compelling disgrace fully, compiling compliant standards for dealing in ecstasy, propensity for perplexing proximity, perpetuating perpetration double helix flexibility and every time I spin my head to re- re- re- adjust…

I’m de-crowning mullahs, ayotollahs, la-illa-ha, astagfirullah! damnation! running from stones screaming argh! yet i am blessed and see ordained angels crowning caliphs instead, wishes falling from stars eradicating who We are, under the breath of the only one who can save us from death, lest We beget triumph over trumpets, unblessed justice: still so blind and yet they have supposedly come so far, deeds seen by those who breed evil seed, greed incarcerating lost hearts forgetting how to feel, once beating true to piano key beats black and white together instead we’re separated by seas of slavery whilst they dine with champagne and caviar…

We watch you commune with demons, scheming, theming, stealing, evicting statements of fact discussing dismissive providence, listening to the president, burnt stench of feathers circulates putrid carelessness, reluctant plaintiffs plaintively hide here whilst We seek over their intruding prudence, creatively dispossessing, disposing indigenous residents in favour of intruding immigrant strength, politicising potent palmistry: pathetic fallacy synthesises progressive mess, callous monarch abets peasant states for a lucrative pageant stretch, showing zero tolerance for immunity or any penance for addictive wealth, pontificating litigation whilst the rich collect illegally and invest in purchasing impunity…

Stocks and shares, relentless coats of arms instigating scientifically proven financial health handed down from generations whilst I accept sceptical hand-me-down sensations, spectre sceptres and crown orbs conjecture heresy born of bloodline annunciations, heritage is specifically democratic molestation, warped genetics imminently horrific eminently frenetic generalisations, warned and unheeded, practice like we don’t need him, illegitimate legacy borne of hedonism, ancestry leveraged, filled with defeatist bigamist deceit, greedily reaping labour from a once struggle-free creed planting seed, weeding bleeds believe me, historical continents made millions on darker skin being unfree, when we lived off our land in purity as slaves, now we live on the land in poverty preparing for our graves, covert offensives averting danger, alerting overt operations ending in failure, commodity replaces humanity, code red, danger! Danger! Danger!

Rage and anger, I suggest every one of them should be under gate arrest after the completion of every one of their rinsed spinning speeches filled with contrived sentences, they, who show preferences to all lack of penitence, penny tenses, burning up coherence for resurgent intentions, I attest my confession to stagnant professions providing concessions to appropriate directing lengths, We’re unheard whilst they herd Us into constructed configured constrictions, concentrating on us as victims with fictitious afflictions instead of connecting construed negligent contradictions: social nucleus for us, to them: mucus for riotous reticence, you are complicit complacent carousels: cases for reference: chaos, my complaint confronts a split in social cohesive irreverence.

One thought on “Son of a King

  1. Your leaping bounding words always make me happily nuts. I want to get a barrel of confetti and write a crumb of thank-you ditty on each strip of harmless paper and throw it all back at you and while its floating lazily in the air we can twirl & twirl in it & call it waltzing ’til this gratuitous gratitude comes to ground. This would be probably about a 7-second ordeal…

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