Archive for the ‘Social/Society Poetry’ Category

New poem by ‘Ryan Lyandree’

Fated For Catastrophe

The king is at its castle
Another dumb puppet chosen by dynasty
Let’s crown this asshole
Let’s embrace our own empirical hypocrisy.

Here comes his majesty
The trumpets announce his entrance here
In with the “new” ministry
The surface of this place is flat in this sphere.

And so it’s time to choose sides
It’s time to stay closed, or open out wide
For larva are accumulating in our mouths
What about the dear old worms when everything goes south?

The lord is at its temple
Praise the pagan figures built by mortal men
Darkness is that simple
It enters though the gaping holes of human sin.

And so it’s time to choose gods
It’s time to stay close, or to let go
For dust has been gathering in our hearts
What about the dear agony that comes along with the scars?

And so it’s time to push open that third eye
‘Cause how obvious can it be to read between the lines?
It’s time to swallow the truth and savor the lies
How oblivious can we be about a balance that declines?

Choose now to live or to die
Choose now to give up or to stay alive
For our king has spewed “off with their heads”
And I think he’s speaking about the living rather than the dead.

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The Math
(Written on June 5, 2016)

So the sky fell into the dark days
So the road turned into a swerve way
And the mirage of the divine
Turned your beverage back from wine.

Such a perfect picture of disenchantment
When the wolves hide within the sheep
And though now you’re blinded by this excitement
Pray to God this doesn’t drag you in too deep.

If the result doesn’t add up with the numbers
There’s something certainly wrong with the formula
When fire weeps sound like roaring thunder
Then the conic section is an ellipse instead of a hyperbola.

So it was written a long time ago
But we were encouraged to believe so
When the devil talks like a Deity
We tend to turn our faith into absurdity.

Such a deceptive way to be captured
When our wounds become compulsion
And though then we waited on for the rapture
We decided that this was true absolution.

If the result doesn’t add up with the numbers
There’s something certainly wrong with the formula
When fire weeps sound like roaring thunder
Then the conic section is an ellipse instead of a hyperbola.

I’ve heard the voice of the devil
And he sings like the sweetest thing
I’ve seen the deep roots of evil
And they look like the most heavenly beings.

So when the waters rise soon to drown
We still will never learn the line needed to be drawn
For the greatest fear’s being taken for granted
But we again ignored it for the sake of feeling wanted.

33rd (AAIGA) (Part 1)
(Written on September 10, 2016)

The number of days that took for the resurrection
Is cloned twice in your degree and scribed on your ring
And by the time they wake up for the insurrection
You’ve signed on our foreheads and owned everything.

The number of the fiend is of that of this humanity
The faux minister certainly won’t preach about God
They feed on the chaos caused by continuous calamity
Cause the fallouts of the afterlife’s one thing they forgot.

This is a mate ceremony presented to the Great Architect
Offering progenies to be swallowed by the likes of Moloch
Cause the real symbols here are all about the mathematics
It was a bet made back when the spiritual battle was unlocked.

So when the alchemists disguised themselves as scientists
That’s when the witchcraft became the mother of cunning
The slithering being curled on a cane, denoting the evident
The obelisks erected must’ve given us the signs of a warning.

I haven’t given before my opinion about today’s society’s status. This is my opinion about it all.

SeaSick

Nuke us, nuke us
This world deserves death
Apathy and nihilism
I’m a man with no faith.

I don’t hate you enough to pull the trigger
I don’t love you enough to extend my hand
Die in the corner, where nobody sees you
Die of starvation, the rich-from overdose.

This canvas is all painted over
There’s nothing else to put here
Just throw it to the trash and then
Bring a blank canvas and start again.

Your opinion, my opinion
The facts, the suffering
All of the notion that keeps moving on
We all born, we all die, we all cry!!!

So nuke us, nuke us
So we can truly fucking feel
How the goddamn end is like
Politicians and religious nuts
The politically correct and millennials
And those who don’t give a fuck
And for those who don’t believe in a God!
Die! For all of our sins
Or lack of
Perfect? Perfect is your bullshit
Thinking that we’re not on the same boat
One that is sinking!!!

The wave of so much nothingness
I’m getting seasick by all of the hollowness
The pitch black, nothing is essential
Everything is created, nothing is accidental.

Laurel (v2)

Oh, this thunderstorm here is no surprise
Lilith is for the hunt and she smells blood
Saving the grace of the Children of Sunrise
Fugitives of the left hand’s grasp of Ehud.

I was raised to sit down, listen and obey
And though these shackles were strong enough to hold a mountain
It came down to traits I simply cannot feign
‘Cause that voice in my brain filled up with pain is now shouting.

Oh those whackers!
Don’t they love it when snakes crawl beneath the grass?
Those mother rockers!
Don’t they love it better how it was then in the past?
They do, they do, they do!
Cause every prince needs a trophy princess to set on display
They need their mechanical mannequins to advertise their victory
To boast their ego as their golden halo’s glow beams blindingly like the sun
I don’t think these majestic pimps need a golden rod but rather a golden gun.

La-la-Laurel
When are you going to stop these men from claiming us as prizes?
Maybe when the stream of the Rose Sisterhood rises
Not until then, not a minute earlier, not an instant later.

Oh, this rattle noise here is not uncommon
Eris is looking for harmony and finds none
Unravels the principles of events to summon
Being sanctuary to those in need of a home.

I was molded by fire, steel and diamond cut
And though these pillars were designed to keep my monster confined
It came to the point that the weight abrupt
The pontifical colloquial symmetries of this cyclical cylindrical sine.

‘Cause every ruler needs a maiden maid right by their side
They need their long string puppets to put a on a good spectacle
And all the mistress they can get for the when world seems just a bit empty
For when their servants contravene after the fact they cannot find any sympathy.

La-la-Laurel
When are you going to stop these men from claiming us as prizes?
Maybe when the stream of the Rose Sisterhood rises
Not until then, not a minute earlier, not an instant later.

Oh how they ride inside their modern day cortege
As they always seem to be late for their own funeral
Well I should apply for a brand new confident entourage
One never knows about those things that might become ephemeral.

The Appositively Hypocrisy

Still tired, bored with this pc world?
About all the fucking shit we still cannot speak of?
Still tied to, biting off your tongue?
You can get away with almost everything if you write it in a song.

Fuck tolerance!
There’s some shit I need to get off my chest
Be irreverent!
Still it’s irrelevant if you try to do your best.

These pacifist assholes always being violent towards me
Why can’t see the irony? The appositively hypocrisy.

Still in awe, up in arms about this?
You can only fight about what the majority agrees on
Still in grief, aggrieved about this shit?
You can’t speak the truth when everyone’s convinced you’re wrong.

Fuck ignorance!
There’s a lot of shit you don’t know about here
Be observant!
About how stagnant you become when in fear.

These political-correct maggots always warping the facts
Why can’t they see the bigger picture? It’s all an act.

They got us by the balls
Even if you profess yourself to be a full-time feminist
Soon your name will be called
When it’s time to jump off the ship and into the shark infested sea.

Autochthonous

Fear is your weapon choice
Calculating your damage control
One with an angel’s voice
Screeches like a fiend on a roll.

Your cowboy eyes won’t tell a difference
No, since you’re coming from the deep south
Don’t you love it when the present interference
Comes from the side of ones who own in oath?

White-wash your white-guilt
(You’re) a solid branch in your family tree
Just to do what thou will
Roots pay with their blood to be free.

You say it’s your “God-given-right”
To reclaim whatever it’s in front of your eyes
But you have built the foundation of your city
Over their natal graves and their stolen lives.

Fanatic skepticism applying
One assemblage set to take arms
Self-gratitude, exemplify denying
To think anyone’s safe from harm.

Your leather boots won’t feel a thing
No, since you’re dancing through the war zone
Don’t you love it when the level tilts vertically?
Sitting proudly, hereditary callous to the bone.

Bleach this box full of crayons
What can you draw when the canvas’ blank?
Whatever picture’s being drawn
It’s always set on the spine of the rainbow.

You say it’s your “God-given-right”
To reclaim whatever it’s in front of your eyes
But you have built the foundation of your city
Over their natal graves and their stolen lives.

Now you all sleep silent
Over the air where countless of voices screamed
Cause for peace you need to turn violent
So now you can rest, in your sweet, sweet dream.