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Sinister Sycophants for World Domination

Transpose these words spit from tongues lashing. The prose conforms in an eloquent fashion. Framed in a forgotten subtext of silence, an esoteric embrace unfolds to surround all sentient waste. Drawing upon a death dance to resurrect the remains of a subliminal sense of salvation or some fraction of sanity. Confined by chains of vanity, feeding the machines empowering a false egotistical mindset, malfunctioning gears give way to revel a grim glimpse of an impossible perfection as promised, a calumny never to propagate. Your reflections distort as demons dance within lucid dreams of lunacy. Possessing intentions to transmute the tragedies into translucent waves of travesties sent flowing, for the purpose of infecting the sullen souls of the lonely and desperate. Rare is the vaccine within those enlightened enough to recognize these treacherous traps set before them, and still elude the temptation. Interpreting the arcane symbolism transcribed to trick the troglodytes too ignorant to see, the clandestine coffins created to bury creativity and contain the collective consciousness so they may mold it to fit with their pernicious plan. These vitiators envision a day when thoughts can be controlled, and will obtain this power from the overabundance of hopeless bottom feeders offered up as a sacrificial scapegoat to feed the nefarious vampires wanting to drain all life and purpose until all that's left are corpses, breeding brain-dead zombies. This viral vision concocted by sinister sycophants disguised as sincere smiley glad-hands hidden under a cloak of bleak black benevolence. Fooling the masses and fueling the fear with constant blasphemous bullshit flowing from mouths contaminated with lies so vile and ever spreading. Killing all truth with every utterance and undermining the greatest gift given to us all, this being free will which is bestowed at birth, and when lost it fades away during the fall from grace into the depths of a true living hell. Forced back in line to keep marching forth, oblivious and believing everything is fine. Just go back to bed and cover up with the blanket quilted to keep eyes blind to the lies. Patches of pestilence stitched together with the twine of trepidation, to keep you cozy and comfortable in the bliss of living in your wretched womb of ignorance. Pathetic is your worthless existence.

Style / type: 
Free verse
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I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
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Comments

Your title intrested me instantly. This is quite an emotionally charged rant, I like these lines:

Your reflections distort as demons dance within lucid dreams of lunacy. Possessing intentions to transmute the tragedies into translucent waves of travesties sent flowing, for the purpose of infecting the sullen souls of the lonely and desperate.

always, Cat (& eddy)

When you fling poo, some of the stink sticks to you!

"The Book of Styx" can be ordered and purchased on line at:
http://eddystyx.mythramuse.com/

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