Dead, found guilty of political violence
(author's note - not rhyming violence with silence)
Sixteen feet beneath the topsoil
Rictus stretched atop the rot-foil

Human nature ugly design in punishment finds its reward
Otherwise a stapled piece of paper feels adored
Clunky funking clatter when we scatter to the wind
Die inside, before I stop your heart for which you've sinned

Clock stops. Electrical impulse.
Disturbing levels of pediatrics, thin pulse.
Elven clockwork dances round the center table, grand
Jesters laugh in octaves high as reaper shows its hand.

Violence, violet violence, a color rich and deep
Seems when under influence a secret it must keep
Strings, the pretty strings I pluck, I scratch them with a blade
Oh is that the killing joke, upon me it was played.

I am not a razor blade, a razor blade I'm not
Oh, but Mr. CEO thinks he's the one on top.
Die ASAP **** you're poem isn't go
Play along for long enough, and welcome to the show.

I am made of serpent flesh, my coils wrap tightly round.
This, you see, a snake den, is where me and kin are found.
Would I bite you? Yes, it's in my nature to do so.
Sink into the water, and be taken by the flow.

River grand and river wide, teach me how to turn the tide,
News and nuance unbeknownst, wither flowers in the growth
Death becomes the ego and the mind plays ***** tricks
Even in the end, it seems I'll never get my fix.

I'm a ******* pistol, or a rifle - I'm a gun.
See if you can figure out my idea of fun.
*******, *******, *******, die, you rude, pathetic ****
Wither in your carcass, it's the only place you fit.

Ay-Kay Forty-Seven says, "your sacrifice was bold"
Yea, that's fucken rich bro, but the story WE were told
Says you froze to death when winter's flurries took your life
****! Oh well, who's keeping score? This story isn't nice.