Quislings

U are the white noise, of an incoherent hum

An idealogical noodledom, of the vile, dumb

Relentlessly oppressive, your rhetoric's dirty

Everyone must know, your goal's, agenda '30

Some see sheep, but it's a pack, Canis Lupus

Clandestine Fabians, led by a comrade Judas

U are the disloyal quislings, of a paper crown

Mixing, red and green, creating faeces brown

One, Nine, Eight, Four

 

There're numbers there, on an internal door

The familiar, one and nine and eight and four

They're black on grey, they're a yester-date

On the one way entrance, to the Stasi State

Authorities watch from there, they don't deny it

Although they will interfere, to keep you quiet 

And so for collective cohesion; and your health 

They will want your opinions, kept to yourself

What you need to know, they'll show, on MSM

Sanitised half truths, too unworthy to condemn

And without just cause, from then, forthwith 

Your freedom, of thought, evanesces to a myth 

They know you better, than you know, you

Knowing every old post and every new view

For you're their problem, you and your kind

By refusing to assimilate, to their hive mind

It's their cause and effect, it's you in the frame

Actions have a reaction, the victim's to blame

It's a cynical lure, when they weaponise speech

Don't do as they do, you've to do as they preach

You're a minute away, from a knock at the door 

It'll be a PC Droid, model: one, nine, eight, four 

It's duty will be unwavering, but as fickle as fate

When it's following the orders, of the Stasi State

 

Empires Fall

 

There's a moat, that's dry, but full and deep 

Beneath crumbling ramparts, of a castles keep

A standard was raised, twas a white flag flying 

To mark the place, that wasn't death defying

Did a swarm, of flies, over corpses, crawl?

For they'll always feed, when empires fall

And this empire fell, when it failed the test

Yielding meekly, they inevitably lost the West

Some invited those, who were god's marauders

'Come to us' they said 'across our open borders'

And on their knees, hailed 'Our King is yours'

But were brutally mocked, like virgin whores

It was a natural re-ordering, to cede, or kill

In the invisible presence, of some higher will

And the domino's fell, long before the liars

As did cities and states and country shires

They purged the leaders, the pathetic weak

But it was, too little, too late, to avoid defeat

For empires fall, when the virtuous pander

To the ludicrous elite and their propaganda

Now, the winter's here, of the forever night

A moat's covered in snow, rot stained, white

A standard's raised, but it's a new flag flying 

To mark the place, where the old guard's lying

Our Flat Earth

 

Old gods of yore, a sky wizard, and the serfs of flerf

Unicorns, dragons, and the centaurs of our flat Earth 

Reside as one, but not united, as the doubters probe

Fabricating, their absurd reality, based upon a globe

Let them not fool us all, with ancient pseudoscience 

As they lead us, like sheep, let us show our defiance 

They'll drip feed, the insanity, of an alternative home

Even though, that the truth is, we exist under a dome

Albeit, we're as sane as Dionysus and talking snakes

Remember there're malicious agents, if god forsakes

They're fake, but of their doctrines, there is no dearth

Heretical globists, are forever coveting, our flat Earth 

Flesh Hovel Lane

 

They once rode out, for the fox hunting, Quorn

Over the hedges and fields, with passengers borne

But the old, the unfit, the weary and the lame

They'd all be butchered, down Flesh Hovel Lane 

Spent, they were knackered and given no quarter 

Led down the lane and sent to their slaughter 

It's a gruesome story and it's a terrible tale to tell 

For the hounds of the hunt, were always fed well

The butchery's long lost in the macabreness of yore

And the abattoir's gone, by Pillings Lock on the Soar

But it's still a dead end, still narrow, once rutted

It's Flesh Hovel Lane, where horses, were gutted

Autumn Crocus

 

When the heart is empty, the mind might focus

To find, a fiery fate, with the Autumn Crocus 

Although the thought is toxic, like an acid kiss

Nothing else will matter, if not being, is bliss

A clock stops ticking, when there's a broken cog

And reality's a phantom, when it's milling fog

For if the eyes cannot see, a course, to guide 

There's no way ahead, that's not death defied

If there's no aroma, when the flowers bloom

The only time that is left, is a time, too soon

For to feed on a harvest, that's poison laced

Is bitter, though sweet, in it's burning haste

When those, apparitions, were never there

The soul is lost, like an unanswered prayer 

And without reason, the mind, won't focus

As the body gorges, on the Autumn Crocus 

Poetry From The Darkside

 

Evil monsters lurk within and they lurk to reap

They're in my mind and they're mine to keep 

They'll hide from light, but when darkness grows 

They'll whisper incantations, in lines of prose

They're always there, but not well defined

But the spells they cast, are to blow my mind 

They're cloak and dagger, unreal, but stark

And so grotesque, they'll manifest the dark 

They feed off nightmares, they feed off fear

I can hear their vile verses, for they are here

Their poetry from the darkside, is meant for me

For in my direst reveries, there's a hanging tree