PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Along the flight-path of angels was a village called Poetry
Under its golden sun I was born, nurtured with liberty

Music is my language, humanity my belief
Little did I know about man’s abuse that led many hearts in grief

Mocking the bourgeois aesthetic and proclivities of the jurors
Inducing the pure spirit of the few left insurers

People tell you how to live with all you’re gonna know,
It’s a shame you pretend to be so comfortable, it only goes to show-

That you fit perfect in their plan to make you just like them,
And when its time to bring up arms, we'll see who’ll fuckin' win..

Go back to her lap old boy, to her torn virginity
To that perfumed corp hiding the stink of traded dignity

And never think of turning back to a garden that hosts no thieves
For truth has already transcended the lies you cautiously tried to weave

And when you wake up from your honey moon regretting what you’ve done
Remember that you once had a light to guide you before I was long gone