Sunday, 1 May 2016

Obsequious and Quietly So The Major Enemies of the Throne

“Olga Picasso” by Pablo Picasso (1923)

An army stomps on at the will of a lone man, rough through the walls of stubborn people
The dictator emerges
With his dick in his hand
The uniform worn by sad men
Isn’t a colour at all
But the mentality of weak genes filled in by the furious, poor with the fidelity of trust
The ferocious is among those, to swallow their victims, a whole 
At the threat of being deposed
Crown your children, your siblings
Before the heir could even be sprung
There is an intruder all ready

On the high chair
Resides and rejuvenates from deprivation, the more deserving of your treatment
There is here
And here is where
You have your dogs
Barking aloud the intention of turmoil
There is a mountain of shit under which are your lungs contained, preserved in the juices
Soaking in the breeze of bullshit
You’re so full of yourself, so full of air; train your children to bite superiors
Where least expected
There is a tonne of logic birthing from your ass

Dear you the king, who now the eunuch who still lives on
How is it like to live in fear of yourself
And the past
What does the brain contend
During the night
Does silence fall on all eight of its feet, when it crosses the bed, and plots for revenge
The brat                                          
Who called you their family
Who worshipped, who bowed, who was the suck up
Have shed their skin
For the world deserves to see: their king replace their king replace their king replace a king