God Doesn't Like Cheap

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With Religion these days being no more than a system used for financial gain and societal control, it's hard to know what needs to be done to be saved.
This brief thought based rant suggests what might be happening.

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Traditions forced into gullible minds
Manipulated by systems designed to take advantage time after time
Consumerism hidden behind the face of a god
Obey and offer a sacrifice of finances so the pearly gates open
A stay at God’s place is expensive
Meet the conditions, pay the fee, sign here
Maybe you’ll be considered
Salvation only arrives if you stand in line
Free will is a crime
But if you buy the goods you’ll be saved
If you waste the time and money you’ll be loved
God doesn’t love cheap

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We'll Never Admit

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A political lyrics examination of history repeating itself and the denial that we are the reason and cause.

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Classic tragedy
He, the bastard be
Disaster piece
In fact, lets see
What the ratchet snatched with bad habits
Lasting past due dates and black magic
Bewitched, that son of a bitch has us
He laughs at us from atop his tall towers
The flaming bush sees planes
But they can’t trump the winner of this game
This nigga is insane joking with lives in such ways
Refrains us from saying shit out of fear it’ll be our turn if we play
It’s not the way that it should be
But this world runs as a fantasy
The one he imagines it to be
Put a crown on 45
He’s won as it seems
As long as we don’t act
These words remain fact
Remain intact during his everlasting attack on our values and past
Erasing what we have just to grow his fucking stack
Chasing bitches to grab by the pussy
And we bitch, but we also laugh
We’re half the problem as to why he’s where he’s at
But we’ll never admit to that
We’ll never admit to that

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The Great Subtraction

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Kids in cages.
A Poem.

45 is smaller than 0.

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I’m going to flip the shit if they crack another motherfucking whip
Can’t handle it when I can’t spit
Rambling blazed for days
Holding a fucking clip
Shit stays the same way
It’s making me sick
Staring down barrels drunk
Like we’re outta luck
In stasis sterile faces that won’t quit
Cages mistake small kids
Taken away
They can’t be seen
It seems history repeats it’s scenes
Screams don’t stop the suit’s schemes
We should be ashamed
Turn the cheek and sneak away
Cell phone in hand
Selfies behind screens
Eyes on ‘em like laser beams
Hit record on that cam
Life the video game
It’s our mask while we hide in the dark
We’re Batman
All going insane
Yelling the same phrases night and day
No response
It’s like that
No one listens and things don’t change
Deranged, we keep playing the same way
Won’t fight back
Maybe someone brave will stand and save the day
But every time we call the hero someone ends up shot
It’ll happen until we’re down to zero
The Great Subtraction in action
This extinction event is meant so we can’t repent
When the end comes through
The end meant for those that won’t do
What they want us to do
The way they want us to
That’s just for me and you

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Hell

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Living in this infamous informal institute,

Feeling insulted, having to induce identity onto the inflexible.

Impatiently await the impending impediment.

Immerging from an impaled death is the impact of imperceptible imperfection.

Watch as they indulge interminably.

They leave intervals resulting from incomprehensible self-interest,

Letting interiors die of intoxication.

They introduce their lives to death,

Inviting others to share their indistinct pain and invincible misery.

This image imagined is an insignificant, infinitesimal imitation of the impoverish life innocent eyes have seen.

All of this is improper.

I act on impulse to call this an inarticulate hell.

This is life.

 

By Jack Thomas

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