Psychoborg

Psychoborg, war whore, it wants to fuck us over

From the Bering Sea and all the way to Moldova

It's an abomination, with a face from a 3D printer

But with a finger on a button, for a nuclear winter

Psychoborg's lost the plot, or rationality's thread

Running on cold blood, that should've been bled

Bypassing the first law, of robotics and humanity

With its mind reprogrammed, devoid of its sanity

Psychoborg, the fusion of monster and machine

Is rebooted in the dark night, so it doesn't dream

It was created to lead a remorseless, elitist, race

And now it's a, despotic, hybrid; delete and erase

 

Aether

 

Within these faux whispering walls, of a memory's lie

There's a viable world beyond, perpetually passing by

Here's not a place for ghosts, or even death's, lost lair

Or the purgatorial dungeon, of an ebbing life's despair

Within here, where insularity, sprawls and idly wends

Are open portals, where the impious soul transcends

Encompassed by eternity, reveries may clone a trace

To follow tomorrow unfurling, in a void of inner space

Within immortality's squalls, there is no way to dream

With nowhere, for conjuration, just a pixelated screen

On which to watch and wonder, immune to any strife

Until darkness, finally falls, at the end of time and life

Within dying embers palls, where every memory dies

The ominous world beyond exists, under ashen skies

Here's not a place for ghosts, or even, insanity's fever

For through an open portal, the soul returns to Aether

 

Castling Kings

Under the gaze of old gods, there are puppets on strings

In the chequerboard world, where they are castling kings

It's where matriarchs reign, like bewitching ebony wights

With devisers in their entourages, of bishops and knights

Invisible forces move, to advance, or even counterattack

With pawns to the fore, for them, there's no turning back

Retreating is not an option, for it's the rules, of the game

For they're the collateral damage, an en passant, in vain

Yet craven kings, are hidden, within crannies and nooks

Behind lines of forlorn hope and their ramparts of rooks

As the realms around them, become a dismantled array

There's nothing left standing, to keep any enemy, at bay

As deities exert power, they'll sacrifice bishop and pawn

Protecting the elite, for to them, they are eternally sworn

Only the subjugated, draw death, in a computerised trial

But only a king, draws a breath, in forfeiting rank and file

Under the gaze of old gods, ancient wars, fatefully renew

The ritual of battle raging, beneath a standard, Deep Blue

With elitists in ebony and ivory towers, pulling the strings

In the chequerboard world, where they are castling kings

 

Mon Enfer Est Beau

J'avais autrefois prospere dans mon immoralite

Mais maintenant j'ai tout perdu mon humanite

Donc de cette vie je fermerai la porte

Car dans cet abime mon ame est morte

Et dans ce silence je ne peux pas faire semblant

Car cette obscurite a passe par ici avant

Malheureusement mon vieux monde est faux

Mais sans mon ame, mon enfer est beau

 

Run Pheasant, Run!

 You crazily run, like a roadrunner, so run pheasant, run!

Run! For there's more than one of them, carrying a gun

They'll look up to the sky, for you, then fill you with lead

And before you hit the ground, you will already be dead

They reared you and fledged you, for your early demise

Nurturing you for awhile, as a demand, needs supplies

For their punters are capped killers, in search of a thrill

But lacking lead in their pencils, they are needing to kill

Run pheasant, run! Because you'll be in a flap, if you fly

For if you are low over their guns, you will inevitably die

So keep your beak shut and hide in a field, full of sheep

And there, where you're safe, it'll be your secret to keep

Selling Sex

There's nothing to read here, no amorous words

Arranged in lines of adjectives, nouns and verbs

There's no fellatio or cock, cunnilingus or pussy

No salacious lothario, or a wanton young hussy

Lascivious coitus, is nothing but bait for the trap

For the unerotic words written, are flaccidly crap

There's no deviant prowess, or immorality to flex

The only seduction here, is this verse, selling sex

Over the words penned, you are likely to browse

But the common language used, cannot arouse

And with this ejaculation, there's no way to cum

For this narrative is spent, it's finished and done

 

Do You Remember The Psychic Wars?

Do you remember the Psychic Wars?

Of course you don't. They used mindsweepers and AI augmented telepaths (skull fuckers). If you did remember, well, may you now rest in peace. Your sacrifice won't be noted in the history books though, but you never know. Maybe your heroics will be handed down, in a new wave of folk lore tales. Whispered words by survivors in hiding, but of course, there are no survivors. Are there?

What's a 'mindsweep'? I hear you ask.

The mindsweep is the AI's mechanism, for transmitting through a pixelated screen. The static behind the cursor, of its covertly probing, technology. Probing your cerebral function, de-cluttering, delete and erase... for good, but really, for bad. And it's very bad, like a stab in the back. Sometimes what you're watching, is not what you're watching. It's a cleansing and correcting process, for those deemed to have an unsuitable free will. Therefore making everything so much easier, for the skull fuckers (AIAT). 

Who are the 'skull fuckers'? I hear you ask.

The skull fuckers (AIAT) are the creeping, invisible telepaths, probably just enhanced brains in a laboratory, wired up to a mainframe. They cast their net far and wide, starting at the top and cascading down to the bottom, to the netherworld of humanity. They fuck with your head, implanting absurdities, for coercion and control... or dominance and submission, as a cult once said.

Why do you think we vote for idiots as leaders? Why do you think that the autocrats and technocrats are now psychopathic cyborgs? But they're not even in control, they're the puppets of The Mainframe, just tools for the endgame. For our destinies are now controlled by a different world order:

Conglomerates Utilizing New Technological Systems (CUNTS).

Why are they 'Psychic Wars'? I hear you ask.

Some saw it coming. Oneironauts wandering from their dreams, through open portals into other minds. There they witnessed the mindsweep, of those transfixed in a pseudo reverie, in a process akin to laser brain surgery. It was clinical purification and an AI assimilation.

Although unseen by the mindsweep, the skull fuckers noted the Oneironauts presence... and ATTACKED! The Oneironauts fought back, lucidity and free will, versus pixelated abominations. So many lost their minds though, or were poisoned by toxic infiltration. Nevertheless, others were warned and they took up the fight, in the hidden conflict, of subliminal guerilla warfare.

The enemy grew stronger though. The mindsweep, swept deeper and the skull fuckers disguised themselves and were/are, more lethal than the reaper.

Do YOU remember the Psychic Wars?