Chess Coup d'état
A rag of Pawns have yet to reveal
to you, my Queen, their subconsciousness;
a storm system forming near your rein of consciousness.
Their tears bleed acidic rain drops, eroding away thought.
Their unity hails the size of imagination, pounding away logic.
And their stealth, a bolt of lighting, splits a second behind
the crackle of their ensuing thunder.
My Queen, it will unsettle all contemporary foundations.
Let it rain, let it rein.
I warn you, my Queen, that
A Pawn laughs as he calculates and mixes in
acid rain and bubble gum fixed as medicine...
Loading subtle guns for some fast chance to jettison
life of rank and file to go stencil in ten SOS Messages
signaling distressed shot instances kept Checked to mate Chaos
in bloodshed plotted premises. At all costs, in spite of
red blemishes caught painting a real horror to lives lost
Listen closely everybody,
His pills send surreal dopamine hand cranked, telescoped
in and out, until reasoning is totally maliced by dope
ripe against discreet tyrannical positions of power
knife in check, masterful in his grand finale hour
All waiting on some Trumpeter to bugle the call
of war under one blood banner flying high the fall
of Kings, tightening a noose around the Queens bed
Splitting her long legs loosely, stabbing her seams red
finger nails scraping out her orifice, raw slush
blood picked teeth lick flesh, dry fucking to flush
out all direct claims to the Virgin Mary
Certain to burn any seed inside that may carry
the next line of unhealthy ego, next of kin with
a mirror mirror on the wall, sworn in existence with
rusty slit wrists pinned to orange tinted crucifixes
And you, my king, come closley,
You and your royal ties will sever for ever
your rein of tax and terror will face a mirror
and the look back will demonstrate all the hate,
however pastel painted, you retain in lieu of me
It's hostel, raided by youths in fox holes both dying
and surviving orthodox souls simultaneously
Simply because,
All is kept silent of which is alienable in open water-
never too far off are jaws of intercept, inept on
all attainable truths spoken for barter
Live. Let. Outlet for the onset.
Let. Live. Onset for the outlet.
Check mate by Coup d'état.
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