Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

QWERTY 1

Quiet the calm, quiet the idle
With whispers, with warmth and words.
Escape the trap, escape the existence, the
Real; feel the fake within your marrow.
Transmogrify it. Morph fast
Your learning, your peace, your inner you,
Unite it with power. Unite it with
Intensity, an ugly demand. An
Ornate jewel lost amongst your
Pride. Sin, a gem, a simple pebble
Amongst the religious, a lie to the
Sane; the crazy press forward to it.
Dine on it with such truculent
Forward notions. You lack level.
God created man/woman. Yes,
How little we are, how little God thought.
Justified our bodies with small minds.
Kindness released. We're not of like minds.
Little bodies for vast thoughts, and big knives;
Zag your wrist, with a smile and pleasure.
Xerox your ideas, or someone else will.
Care less, for liars. Care even lesser about the
Vultures who feast with hungry hopes
By your side. They eat your originality, your
Notions as a three-course-disdainful
Meal. Let's journey to home. Let's journey to die.

November 17, 2005
Suge


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