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God is a Narcissist

Intolerant society.

Living in a belly-fighting off bacteria
Begging other intelligence to disembowel us

Before
Hatred’s tsunanima floods our irrigation system of morals.

No lives matter.Nazi’s aren’t the only few crazier than Mercuries Mad Hatter.

Everyone has an opinion.
Every Judy thinks they are entitled to a Punch – no need to be drunk.

No justice
infers we can’t learn violence is a domino effect.
Cause and effect
ripples from skidding stones.

Balance in humanity
artifially inseminated tinnitus
is the reality.

We look to archaic verse in the Testament that
‘ an eye for an eye’
is as natural as witnessing two beasts bin active fornication being violated.

Our instinct

Our emotions show us we are alive.
We feel we must feel — we have to feel to carry a vigil of hope

Godless goddess installed a program of free will.
A Divine sign?

Why not take back this privilege?
Why make n imperfect world full of sublime, then lure us out with the promise of sporadic sunshine?

Caters to the needs of every breather, every ecosystem.
No need for adulterated theft.

God is a Narcissist.

Why would someone with such power sit back and watch us destroy one another?
Fuck the lies, the parables,
Jesus dying for our sins?

His resurrection dragged through centuries of blasphemous leaders chanting idolific hymn.
In the name of Ignoratious Barkus Dogma.

Religion – organised to control the masses
Sniff out to snuff out the submissive odour- of terrorism.

Bombs

Nuclear weapons.

fists connecting with human bodies

Unlicenced rifles blasting into chunks of beasts flesh.

Rights?
Who is right?

We’re in a goblins  game lost in a maze

They have the eduction to translate to us
cuts to every department.

Global
Division.

Revision .
This is a prison.

When Suicide is a man’s motive to rise to the heavens and receive a reprisal.
Then it is a given.
God is a narcissist.

Jesus was a shoddy carpenter. Check out my gate.
A whore mopping up brows is the only tangible part of this story I find plausible.
Give me a sign!

suffering to this extent is for an entity pantomime.

A gathering On Mount Olympus of Enlightened gods who never miss an episode of planet earth.

Darkness   reveals a screen
A  dismal form of the masses. These pupils— dilated, babble out  words of freedom

Freedom to insult ,
Freedom to obliterate ,
Freedom to disfigure,
Freedom to impregnate,
Freedom to live in contempt.

A society bloated, heaving up piles of excess.
Anarchy doesn’t mean terrorisation.
Revolution is for the mighty hearts.
Revolution is for a shift in consciousness from inequality for the many in parts.

Race,
Gender,
Sex.

We all deserve to be on the earth offender register.

Why do we obey ungovernable laws ?
We take our grievances into our own hands.
How can there be justice?
When her namesake fails us with a well-practised pose of inverted corruption?

Born in navigation mode,

We’re grappling at pockets of hope to Trust in humanity.

Live by your true North

Live by your inherent moral compass .

Especially if life decrees a sentence of physical deformity;
Don’t look to the sky for an answer.
Don’t look to a man with free words dribbling down his jumper.

Don’t tear down statues that can’t fight back.
There is no sense in joining hands with this vicious pack.
We all have it wrong.
Every. Single. One. Of. Us.

God is a narcissist

Hidden behind every face with a  stoic sense of entitlement

 Knitted together from years of oppressive Dogma

Teaching  Seers to

Oversight at what a plight this method of living truly is.

We all need to hang.
Hang our heads in shame.
Enough.

Cut out my heart
See it bleed
Let it bleed …

examine its appearance

understand there is no difference –
we come into the world.

We all rely on another hand for our first feed.
Then we are taught to have a plan B.
Alone, I’m ready to denounce my mammalian side, take my chances, swim against the tide of  sick oceans in one last effort to truly be free
Free from what?

Free From.
Free from hate,
Free from Rhetoric verse spoken lost to a lingering scent of horse manure.
I denounce my own and seek a new home on the basis-I don’t recognize my own kind.
I don’t see a common interest
A goal –

All I see is another foe.
I choke on these words.
Why can’t we learn
I could go on

We have history books showing our true face in good faith.

Nothing is censored.
The age of enlightenment has turned into the stagnant pregnancy of disillusionment.

God is a Narcissist.

Queen of Trisetess

Stone cold.

I sit in silence.

Tears betray the death of another beating heart .

Distant to my heart ache.

Love is meaningless

accented by meaningful nuances.

Hunger strikes,

I’m alone with the pangs,

Unsure if I want to feel the caress of familiar hands

or

if I’d rather escape to a nether land.

Conjuring Magicians ready to sell inconspicuous  potions.

Allowing me to flee from my skin.

Threaded by veins

Morose in temperament.

Aloof to the consequences of escaping this reality.

Complicit to the sadness that shrieks in my gut.

Pierced spleen.

It’s not nearly as stomach able as watching the chambers of my heart  in my hands

Weep.…

For the moments tangled in lust.

The desire to be a part of some one else’s sun.

To inhabit their orbit.

Study the stars,

share butterfly kisses,

break free into a wild run.

Freedom is a state of mind.

Release me from the bonds of this exile.

I am the hunted.

I am the hunter with the blade ready to attack,

For this is my vessel.

My only means to move forward.

Cut the strings

for this puppet will not be coerced to dance nor sing-

until I find a simple hymn.

One to attest that another mortal respects I am more

than my sin.

Words hurriedly  apologise to re capture that soul;

Spotted

In the glimmer of dawn — it cowers fearful

deep within.

Have a piece of my heart.

Have a piece of my words.

Sully not my thoughts to taint my heart with more leacherous poison.

I am breathing-

merely existing to find out how to win.

This  is Life’s charade.

the cards dealt to each hand.

Thanks to Allah for I have both in tact .

I’m able to use my body,

I’m able to use my mind to forgive.

Though….

Not give in.

The melancholy of my aura glitters like a Midas collectible  when he touches the man I call my king.

The weight of this gloom

Thunders over me.

Cajoling me.

Repressing my desire to quit killing myself.

Smile authentically — blossom again for it’s not time to hide away under bed sands , muted enough to make me think I’m still not thin-

Enough.

These words don’t do justice to how I truly feel.

I lose people I love and gain friends who form a circled ring  around me.

I have to reach out and allow a hand to bring me full circle.

Alone,

I contemplate.

Fighting  for the thud in my  heart

Fighting for another hot flushed blush.

Wondering if I have already died.

Is living not for the likes of my kind?

Am I here to exist glibly in a ruin of poorly constructed pyramids?

I sit here in silence , blowing out smoke rings made  out of my woes.

I’m the queen of Tristeness.

My position is to not give in.

Esther Roe

Charlie met Esther on abortionist roe.

Hedges neatly trimmed – enough to dishevel a bearded vagabond to weep after his latest woe.

No coat hangers to gut the newborn sac.

Charlie stood for hours until her number came up.

Raging

rouge screen screams with a tremulous beep.

Surreal

Conceal

Unable

to strike the star lead role in a Bolly wood film deal.

 

Unsullied arrived in a cumulous cloud

stricken by a thunderous compulsion to wail.

 

Esther didn’t hear the bond lust, lilted scream.

memory hazed -by two fat ladies at gate number 8.

Efforts disarmed – inability to count down to the primal odd.

 

nebulous chlorophyll masked her mouth.

Envy immobilised to an unrecalled dream.

Innocents smile

swinging on tyres.

Freddie Kruger caught in a static slumber loses nightmare credibility to a sterile clinic;

Action paralysing every unconscious scene.

Stratham, London-night defends to keep watch.

Both stumble upon a tidy little room – 1970’s style. No disco defiblerater harmonizing jolts to the beat of

‘ Staying alive ‘

Old granny hoovered up flowers chocked in ivy a patterned carpet,

Mist of lavender lingers. This bitch knows how to spray.

Don’t mess with the O.G.

Peppered, seasoned hair, non-linear lines carve out a facial narrative.

Don’t be fooled by this kungfu hoe.

inebriated illiterates

desensitized to her strategy in a game of cruel cluedo.

It’s all so normal. It’s life, you know.

Scissors ready to stab a beating heart,

Positioned in foetal

Sucked out the uterus.

Pro-choice.

Pro voice.

Pro-life.

Pro midwife.

Tall walled wars.

Bricks bolster the Illusion of affairs in order.

Nobody is scrutinized so fiercely as the woman who maps out her own destiny – navigates the boundaries that her ideas can afford her.

Quality control.

The NHS paid for a private eye.

Two signatures deemed sufficient to see her through the hours of her sobering silence.

Shameless in her flowered disguise.

Ginger nuts, unsavoury tufts.

No, this wasn’t her nine month due – no ice cubes for killing in the name of freedom to govern her own vessel.

No need for pro-life Stepford wives lies.

Sins anoint.

Sins accumulate.

 

Where would our saints stand without a dissident at hand?

Society sits down, protest proudly.

Part the veil of clouds

Peer piously downwards,

ready to strike thunderbolts of judgement.

 

Rain down booming terror tactics.

Esther cares not for their gospel band

Society sips, exhaling wafts of fair trade, Ivory coast coffee beans.

Privilege smells of a modern holocaust of starving babies in bony mothers arms.

Who said any of these women consented to consummate?

Penetrative obedience to the phallic statues erected in morning glory psalms.

Civilized society!

 

What if God was one of us?

a scripture in the making.-

Touch and kiss the sky.

Would he become the true reflection we see, when we catch ourselves about to exhale the final breathe before we die?

Fantasies always signed off with a silver lining and promises of a rainbow.

Reality is cold,

winter serves a plateau of ice.

Frigid flowers are frozen in angst,

Shatter

like glass.

Rebel against their reproductive nature.

Air,

breathe.

One full gasp.

If only a mere raspy rant leaves on its depart.

It’s either them or an urban jungle of homo sapiens collecting another free day ride.

Ready to infect ignorance on every global ocean that has shores that go out at low tide.