Brain Dead.

Prosecute to persecute.

Tailor-made three-piece suit.

Tin crest and a gun to shoot.

Bang bang goes la pistola.

Chain gang they control ya.

It’s a team game and they chose ya.

Public interest gangbanger; trabajo de la rosa.

All black and red, strap in; the mind is dead.

Hidden beneath a hoodie and a donkey’s head.

War is kicking and love is dead.

All that talk; what does your voice mean anyways?

When black and white annals is all you got to say.

Another moron had a heart attack?

Hip hip hooray!

Your fight has just begun; get on your knees and pray.

Cause there’s no chance in hell you’re gonna live through this.

Wanna change the world?

Tough grits, sugar tits.

There’s a plan in play; to unite the globe under the guise of Liberté.

With one people in place to take the reigns; each one gifted 800 slaves.

All those who resist will be dug a shallow grave.

Imagine a homogeneous existential crisis and prepare to be erased dude.

“But I’m on the right side of history!”

Awww; aren’t you cute.

Prosecute to persecute.

Tailor-made three-piece suit.

Tin crest and a gun to shoot.

Bang bang goes la pistola.

Chain gang they control ya.

It’s a team game and they chose ya.

Public interest gangbanger; trabajo de la rosa.

Let’s pull the trigger on some sycophants.

Hold up let me stop you before you shit your pants.

You’re not the only figure full of rants.

The clock is ticking and this isn’t a game of chance.

Pant over grants like ants over their queen.

Take the bribe and imbibe or die; there is no in-between.

All about the size of your rooster or how much money your paying; your contribution to society remains to be seen.

Even when you think you’re experienced; your belly is yellow and your gills are green.

Just giving it to you real, don’t intend to be mean.

What you want is something that can be easily taken away.

The only happiness found is in a neutral shade of grey.

You want a culture of color; you have to enter the fray.

Be a ruthless, selfish, agenda driven mercenary; the way the movies portray.

At the root of Japanese bamboo shoots, the truth shall be revealed, transhuman transition; level the the playing field and repute the pursuit.

Prosecute to persecute.

Tailor-made three-piece suit.

Tin crest and a gun to shoot.

Bang bang goes la pistola.

Chain gang they control ya.

It’s a team game and they chose ya.

Public interest gangbanger; trabajo de la rosa.

War is kicking and love is dead.

All black and red, strap in; the mind is dead.

War is kicking and love is dead.

All black and red, strap in; the mind is dead.

War is kicking and love is dead.

All black and red, strap in; the mind is dead. –Michael Kabu Ament

Evil Man.

I’m surprised you still talk to me.

You know what I am; an evil man.

An evil man.

All the times I toked and choked what you put up.

The cost was too much.

All the grey lines I walked and fences I sat on.

Leaving their permanent indentation.

All the acquaintances left behind, never knew em as friends; and that’s just fine.

They never set their sights on what’s inside of me.

Not that I would ever let them see.

But still they know what I am; an evil man.

An evil man.

Tried to say au revoir; but it’s still there ticking like a clock.

The heart pumping blood through this mess of a self-perpetuated martyr.

And I’ll try to shake this sadness off; even if it means the death of me.

Just don’t let it drag you down.

If you go lookin’; I’ll be around.

I’ll show my face in places I don’t belong; invading spaces with my song.

Making them uncomfortable by remaining alive; for a long long time.

Yeah, that’s the plan, I know what I am; an evil man.

An evil man.

All the times I cornered her in the hall; no escape from my love.

Unreciprocated; but couldn’t let her run.

Though I’m only one; and there were a few.

All the times I shilled my truth.

All the hearts I broke in my youth.

Everything I stole; took it’s toll.

It was never my goal to feign recompense owed.

Would rather shoot for the future; never break the sutures.

But here I am shoulder bleeding; stuck like a ham.

We all know who I am; an evil man.

An evil man.

All the times I toked and choked what you put up.

The cost was too much.

All the grey lines I walked and fences I sat on.

Leaving their permanent indentation.

All the acquaintances left behind, never knew em as friends; and that’s just fine.

They never set their sights on what’s inside of me.

Not that I would ever let them see.

Not that I would ever let them see.

Not that side of me.

Not that I would ever let them see.

Not that I would ever let them see!

Not that side of me.

This evil man.

An evil man.

An evil man!

This evil man. –Michael Kabu Ament

One Flew…

Alliteration is the key to success.

So you know it’s time for flexin’.

Perplexion complexion, countless corrections; leading you in eight directions.

Elections of erections; selling you mass deflections.

Infection reflection, affection rejection, dissection subjection, pissing in the wind; intellection reception.

Rusty cogs in the machine; marine unseen.

Green ass grass where the dogs are shitting.

Weaned in caffeine, fluoride in the canteen, recruited at nineteen, packed in tin cans like sardines, shaved heads and vaccines; polyethylene philistine strung out on alcohol and methamphetamine.

Ocean blue is the undertone.

Stoned the crow in the stokehold.

Cold untold souls sold, behold foretold scrolls that hold secrets unknown to the threshold of man’s millionfold blindfold.

Deadened me.

Reddened sea.

Dead-end street.

Leaden feet.

Bread and t.v., infrared and discreet conceit, morals are obsolete; the elite deserve your petite sweet meats replete.

Eyes drooping?

Induction complete.

God, if you only knew what I knew.

One flew over the cuckoo’s nest.

Perpetual stew of unrest.

You molest.

I confess.

You undressed.

It’s a mess.

I’m a pest.

Under duress.

Procuress Elizabeth.

Devil’s daughter; goddess of death.

Alliteration is the key to success.

So you know it’s time for flexin’.

Perplexion complexion, countless corrections; leading you in eight directions.

Elections of erections; selling you mass deflections. Infection reflection, affection rejection, dissection subjection, pissing in the wind; intellection reception.

Gadsden flag libertarian.

Contrarian pescetarian, antiquarian carrion sanitarium; banging on the glass of the vivarium.

Chew-spit cowboy.

Loose-dick plowboy.

Sow-lick yow choy.

Bitch-sick; how coy.

Don’t bother.

Get a drink of water.

Slaughter squatter; rotter swatter hotter than solder.

Married the alma mater.

Criss-cross counting beads in the name of the pater.

End up in cuffs.

Didn’t mean to snuff fluffed buffed sugar puff; rough rebuffed gruff tool huffed when I sent him up.

Let’s talk about tension.

Alliteration is the key to success; and you know it’s time for flexin’.

Perplexion complexion, countless corrections; leading you in eight directions.

Elections of erections; selling you mass deflections. Infection reflection, affection rejection, dissection subjection, pissing in the wind; intellection reception.

Cold untold souls sold, behold foretold scrolls that hold secrets unknown to the threshold of man’s millionfold blindfold.

Leading you in eight directions.

God, if you only knew what I know.

One flew over the cuckoo’s nest.

My mind’s gone. –Michael Kabu Ament

Galilee.

About ready die.

I’m feeling it.

Shaping me.

I’ve already lied.

I’m laughing at it.

Trying its hand at erasing me.

Here I’ve Walken in in it.

Consume me like the mud of the quag that’s a bloom with lilies.

Revealing my gentile nature.

Galilee.

There’s a road between us; but I can see.

You waiting on the other side for me.

Cobblestone and black flowers; cowering in their souring shade.

Misunderstandings towering before our mechanical brains.

Wading through the counter-cultural muck; sick of playing their games.

Desperation now; sucking on the grains.

Spit or swallow; I lick the spotted toad.

Shit and throttle, let it grow cotted mold.

Grit and hollow times; from what I’m told.

Split and borrow; remains of a dead man’s gold.

Embrace the corpses and cry because I’m..

About ready die.

I’m feeling it.

Shaping me.

I’ve already lied.

I’m laughing at it.

Trying its hand at erasing me.

Here I’ve Walken in in it.

Consume me like the mud of the quag that’s a bloom with lilies.

Revealing my gentile nature.

Galilee.

There’s a road between us; but I can see.

You waiting on the other side for me.

Sunken beliefs and sunken cheeks; glass on marble, cut my feet.

Lap up the milk and honey whilst I can’t breathe.

The sky is sunny; yet here I freeze.

Flesh decaying; I’m ripe to sink your teeth.

Tis the season to hang me with your wreath.

Chair of misfortune; precursor takes a seat.

Given all this time but only now I choose to see.

Not worth the hassle if I can’t be freed.

Embrace the roses and sigh because I’m..

About ready die.

I’m feeling it.

Shaping me.

I’ve already lied.

I’m laughing at it.

Trying its hand at erasing me.

Here I’ve Walken in in it.

Consume me like the mud of the quag that’s a bloom with lilies.

Revealing my gentile nature.

Galilee.

There’s a road between us; but I can see.

You waiting on the other side for me.

Cobblestone and black flowers; cowering in their souring shade.

There’s a road between us; but I can see.

You waiting on the other side for me.

Flesh decaying; I’m ripe to sink your teeth.

There’s a road between us; but I can see.

You waiting on the other side for me.

Waiting for me.

Waiting for me.

Waiting for me. –Michael Kabu Ament

Interesting..

Apparently I’m predominantly Anglo according to CriGenetics.com Ancestry test.

I also have Iberian, Chinese, Japanese, and Nigerian ancestors as well.

Trigger.

The never ending rain is like pearls before swine.

Falling from the sky; another year of wasted time.

Tell me like you mean it; our hearts are open wide.

Give it one more day, don’t you dare betray our lives.

And if your mind is hollow, in the face of trouble; what will you be willing to do now?

And if you got friends to call on; it’s best you call them now.

Cause we’ve faced the storm with lightning in our eyes.

As the thunder rumbles the ground; it all comes tumbling down.

I’ll never forget what you said to me.

Take the gun and pull the trigger!

One more silly passive aggressive advance.

One more Achilles heel cut before the dance.

You’re filling me up with anxiety, no love, no comfort.

Is this a mistake?

I don’t want to suffer you; anymore.

So hit the fucking door!

I’ll wave at you from the windows.

The god awful stench you left behind, it’s like rosemary and rhyme; trapped inside your lavender shadow.

The never ending rain is like pearls before swine.

Falling from the sky; another year of wasted time.

Tell me like you mean it; our hearts are open wide.

Give it one more day, don’t you dare betray our lives.

And if your mind is hollow, in the face of trouble; what will you be willing to do now?

And if you got friends to call on; it’s best you call them now.

Cause we’ve faced the storm with lightning in our eyes.

As the thunder rumbles the ground; it all comes tumbling down.

I’ll never forget what you said to me.

Take the gun and pull the trigger!

Challenge me; make me feel like something more.

Anything to know I’m not just your chore.

Let me be the prerogative.

Let me breathe as if we’ve never been.

Can’t you tell that I’ve been torn?

Dig deep of the well, compliant only if you let me in.

Never knew you were such a mad hatter.

Drown me now as if it matters.

I’m tired of waiting.

The never ending rain is like pearls before swine.

Falling from the sky; another year of wasted time.

Tell me like you mean it; our hearts are open wide.

Give it one more day, don’t you dare betray our lives.

And if your mind is hollow, in the face of trouble; what will you be willing to do now?

And if you got friends to call on; it’s best you call them now.

Cause we’ve faced the storm with lightning in our eyes.

As the thunder rumbles the ground; it all comes tumbling down.

I’ll never forget what you said to me.

Take the gun and pull the trigger!

Pull the trigger!

Cause we’ve faced the storm with lightning in our eyes.

As the thunder rumbles the ground; it all comes tumbling down.

Take the gun and pull the trigger!

Pull the trigger!

I’m tired of waiting now!

Tell me like you fucking mean it! –Michael Kabu Ament

Castle.

Laziness is just depression.

Sort of drunk.

Sort of high.

Sometimes low; feel like I could die.

Walking the line.

Hundreds of feet deep; this can’t be right.

Pull me to the surface so I can see the light.

A thousand years invade my sight.

Raven wings aid my flight.

Beyond the end, the edge of resurrection.

A stranger in my reflection.

Ascension to Asgard, pills that comfort me; course correction.

World’s and words that heal; outside convention.

If only I could steal the darkness inside of you; spiritual dissection.

It all comes back around.

Life is a dream; the sound of God’s voice astounds.

Waiting for a way out to be found.

Is death the only cure?

Listen as I free my thoughts aloud.

Just another narrow road.

The haziness of affection.

I could jump.

I could cry.

Cold wind blows, frozen saline; halt my eyes.

Running in the night.

Struggle as my lungs empty, in this life; put up a fight.

Still another six feet bleak; pale mercurial wight.

Ten thousand fears strangle; ten bony fingers tight.

A woman’s grace infection arrives; In my heart through my veins and left to lie.

Crows feed on the remains; entrails provide the tree of life.

Beyond the end, the edge of resurrection.

Stratocaster intentions; wavelength distention.

Explosive connections, bourbon hollow, straddling helheim; bow my complexion.

Wounds and wars that feel; my confession, my redemption.

If only we could run away; obligation introjection.

It all comes back around.

Life is a dream; the sound of God’s voice astounds.

Waiting for a way out to be found.

Is death the only cure?

Listen as I free my thoughts aloud.

Just another narrow road.

To walk it we must derive.

Sort of drunk.

Sort of high.

Sometimes low; feel like I could die.

Walking the line.

Hundreds of feet deep; this can’t be right.

Pull me to the surface so I can see the light.

Just another narrow road.

Just another narrow road.

Build another castle, confidential home; my one and only hale hearth and hold. –Michael Kabu Ament

Sour.

If there is a hell; God isn’t merciful.

If there is a heaven; what’s the point in living?

Speaking in tongues is the closest you’ll get to its voice; super seven sieving.

Use of words; a spell and a choice.

Author of platonic release seeding, menthol cigarettes and dirty streets; lonely men are grieving.

Syntax eleven complete; the architect is fleeing.

What does it relay anyway?

Believing and achieving a lasting and freeing undulation of seeing and breathing stardust and feeding the black hole forever consuming all that we’ll ever be.

Hold your breath and count to three, if you’d believe in anyone; you can believe in me.

There’s meaning in spiraling through the astral sea.

Superceding this verse a hearse and a curse upon the wishing well.

Question yourself; do you have a soul to sell?

Shallow the grave the raven-haired goddess will raise.

Fertilized ground the cattle will graze.

We were once mankind; now we’re sour to the taste.

Our blood cast forth a river long as the Nile.

Bereaved, consoled, and beguiled.

A dozen individuals the same as a dozen rank and file.

We gave it an inch and it took a mile.

Erudite felled and incontrovertible.

If there is a hell; God isn’t merciful.

If there is a heaven; what’s the point in living?

Speaking in tongues is the closest you’ll get to its voice; super seven sieving.

Use of words; a spell and a choice.

Author of platonic release seeding, menthol cigarettes and dirty streets; lonely men are grieving.

Syntax eleven complete; the architect is fleeing.

What does it relay anyway?

Believing and achieving a lasting and freeing undulation of seeing and breathing stardust and feeding the black hole forever consuming all that we’ll ever be.

Hold your breath and count to three, if you’d believe in anyone; you can believe in me.

Superceding this verse a hearse and a curse upon the wishing well.

Question yourself; do you have a soul to sell?

Shallow the grave the raven-haired goddess will raise.

Fertilized ground the cattle will graze.

We were once mankind; now we’re sour to the taste. –Michael Kabu Ament

Falling Off.

Instinct and intuition telling me to abandon this spherical headstone.

Never had much of a silver tongue so I spit my truth from the hedgerow.

Maybe I should just let go; be a toothless doom merchant smelling of piss and petrol.

Refine apple seed powder crushed beneath the pestle.

So weary and gone, tired of the trogs in soggy bogs clogged with hogs obscured by the heavy fog; just another cog blogging a monologue about their latest emmenagogue.

What a wheel!

I’m falling off.

Conceptualization on the backs of work-horses.

Utilization of tacks and red string on cork boards; connect the illuminated courses.

When the secrecy forces porous Horus eyes to resonate in a chorus; synapses fire in unison creating a Taurus.

Toroidal flow every time you relax the asshole like quasars out of control; belief in a firmament is their last hope.

Bury the brain in memes and a relevant trope.

Lord have mercy!

Whatever you have to do to cope.

Could use an Irish coffee and a line; doing time for a crime that isn’t mine.

No reason, no rhyme, if I say I’m fine; I’m lyin’.

Sometimes it’s tough; but no use in cryin’.

It’s all an illusion; and the rope I’m tyin’ shows im tryin’.

Firing line; I’m dyin’ because all we choose is violence.

And that’s just the beginning; the tip of the iceberg.

Capillaries burst from blue light; my eyes hurt.

Try as I might, no satiating my thirst, for knowledge, if you wanna form a modus operandi; then I’m first.

Keeping in step with the times is just an excuse for shallow minds.

Grind as you must; even distant stars shine.

All we are is dust, blowing; forming a spinal shrine of the divine.

An asterisk in quotations; that’s just nature.

Nomenclature erasure before the science is even put to paper.

Aligned in hindsight is rightfully mein flight; forget the haters.

Yeah.

Instinct and intuition telling me to abandon this spherical headstone.

Never had much of a silver tongue so I spit my truth from the hedgerow.

Maybe I should just let go; be a toothless doom merchant smelling of piss and petrol.

Refine apple seed powder crushed beneath the pestle.

So weary and gone, tired of the trogs in soggy bogs clogged with hogs obscured by the heavy fog; just another cog blogging a monologue about their latest emmenagogue.

What a wheel!

I’m falling off.

I’m falling off.

I’m falling off.

Fuck this planet; I’ve made my peace with this rock. –Michael Kabu Ament

My Eyes. (Atman)

My eyes see with adaptive resolution.

Filtering out blank stares and confusion.

Fostered within; amber water illusion.

When I cut myself; You know I choose it.

Hey now check me out, I’m glowing.

Amongst the black background; distance growing.

What’d you say to me?

I can’t hear you.

Is it that hard to believe?

I feel too.

Atman upon the waters; refracting unseen colors.

Another unknown caller; you know that I won’t bother.

The great mother guides my hand.

You won’t see me again.

I got this shit on lockdown.

Memories I need to jot down.

Words that cut the bots down.

This that demi-god sound.

I got this shit on lockdown.

Memories I need to jot down.

Words that cut the bots down.

This that demi-god sound.

My eyes see with nuclear fusion.

I promise I won’t abuse them.

Wanna be a part of me; get used to losin’.

One day they’ll put me in a mental institution.

Hey now check me out; I’m stoic.

Source of the disease; I’m so sick.

Hidden in the crowd; I’m flowin’.

Never know what’s in my hand; I’m foldin’.

Atman upon the waters; refracting unseen colors.

Another unknown caller; you know that I won’t bother.

Die for the fatherland.

You know my kin are banned.

I got this shit on lockdown.

Memories I need to jot down.

Words that cut the bots down.

This that demi-god sound.

I got this shit on lockdown.

Memories I need to jot down.

Words that cut the bots down.

This that demi-god sound.

My eyes see with adaptive resolution.

Filtering out blank stares and confusion.

Fostered within; amber water illusion.

When I cut myself; You know I choose it.

Hey now check me out, I’m glowing.

Amongst the black background; distance growing.

What’d you say to me?

I can’t hear you.

Is it that hard to believe?

I feel too.

Atman upon the waters; refracting unseen colors.

Another unknown caller; you know that I won’t bother.

Yeah.

My eyes see with nuclear fusion. I promise I won’t abuse them.

Wanna be a part of me; get used to losin’.

One day they’ll put me in a mental institution.

Hey now check me out; I’m stoic.

Source of the disease; I’m so sick.

Hidden in the crowd; I’m flowin’.

Never know what’s in my hand; I’m foldin’.

Atman upon the waters; refracting unseen colors.

Another unknown caller; you know that I won’t bother.

Yeah.

Atman upon the waters; refracting unseen colors.

Another unknown caller; you know that I won’t bother.

Yeah. –Michael Kabu Ament