This Is MAD!

 We had it all, we thought, but it was only make believe

For we had our blind eyes turned, so we'd not perceive

As the automatons transmitted, non-intelligent comms

The despots rained upon us, their missiles and bombs

The sheep 'baaed' in their flocks, like irrational crowds

But the AI dispersed them, beneath mushroom clouds

The fiery end was torturous, in our apocalyptic demise

Incinerating our toxic screams and vaporizing their lies

In the non-now, lightning illuminates the poisonous rain

Where, in a nuclear winter, humanity's sanity's all in vain

And if we could, mayhap we'd look back at what we had

Before raising the pits of Hell to Earth, for... this is MAD!

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