Flaunt the burgeoning flower; as if it feeds itself.
Given all that it needs from the point of germination; never questioning the legitimacy of it’s wealth.
Thousands of fools begging on their knees; feigning solicitude.
Gaining no more than a petal’s kiss or two.
The salivation increases momentary pacification.
Suspect and pitiable; drained from the masculine tree.
Effervescent and charismatic, the flower shies it’s face from the twelve points of the sun; in exchange for artificial radiation.
A questionable age of technological supremacy, blurs the lines of nature; creating false prophets speaking from a glassen soapbox.
Using their bodies to communicate, to disguise the emptiness of their words, a new language, vapid and rebellious; manifests from years of subservient genuflection.
Maggots in the festering wounds of society’s inborn laws, it’s far too late to save; we need to amputate it all.
Flaunt the burgeoning flower; as if it feeds itself.
Given all that it needs from the point of germination; never questioning the legitimacy of it’s wealth.
Morose is the lonesome wolf; knowing it’s future before it comes to pass.
Entangle the starving bear in the rose bush mass.
Shave the lion’s mane to make it indistinguishable from the social class.
The flower laughs, naturally oppressive and invasive; it sustains itself on the domination of the herculean ass.
Many demand androgynous desecration; yet nothing is what it seems.
Without separation of the two minds; there is no order when enlightenment is still just a dream.
The institution of god, once lackluster; now takes on a steely gleam.
A youthful counter movement; woe unto you and me.
Flaunt the burgeoning flower; as if it feeds itself.
Given all that it needs from the point of germination; never questioning the legitimacy of it’s wealth.
Thousands of fools begging on their knees; feigning solicitude.
Gaining no more than a petal’s kiss or two.
The salivation increases momentary pacification.
Suspect and pitiable; drained from the masculine tree.
Nothing is what it seems.
Enlightenment is still just a dream.
Just a dream.
Maggots in the festering wounds of society’s inborn laws, it’s far too late to save; we need to amputate it all. –Michael Kabu Ament
STÖK 