Matt Earl 4h

Maybe Tomorrow

False hopes of a generation, tell-tale signs of a broken nation.
Tower blocks decayed and grey, different types of vermin hide away
In the shadows, in the cracks
No one around in case of attacks
Monoliths of misery reach for the sky, where poverty lives and the forgotten they die
Hooded teenagers like outlaws of old count out the money from the powdered death that they sold
Scarred burnt out vehicles, faded police tape a constant reminder of murder and rape
Violence is hidden behind every door, bruised dirty faces the badge of the poor
No food on the table, no shoes on their feet, for love and affection they have to compete
Girls on street corners sell love at a price and for one fleeting moment life feels so nice
Time rages on and bodies grow old, nothing to show for the dreams that were sold
Men with no prospects sit and decay, on broken sofas they watch the TV.
Where people and programmes have nothing to say
Old soldiers sit and dream of before
Storming French beaches and fighting a war
Remembering old friends who forfeited their lives, for this now septic country where misery thrives
No police presence in this modern Gomorrah, things will surely get better I’m not sure just when but maybe tomorrow.

All this talk of crying, all this grief and sorrow,
The worship of dying, the Light of tomorrow,

All this promising of peace everlasting,
All this eulogising of prayer and fasting,

All this stuff about Sin, original or otherwise,
All this reincarnating of dead people's lives,

It's the mother of all bullshit, it's hypocrisy and hate,
It's a religion of commerce taxed by the state.

It's chocolate and glitter, it's a dressage of delusion,
An endless repetition of power doing the using.

They are selling you incense so you can make smoke.
They say only they walk down the true road.

It's a pantomime of rhetoric perfected over time
So we look the other way Deaf Dumb and Blind.

Who wrote these rules, carved them into stone?
What have they done to us we let them rattle our bones?

It's all hidden in riddles of Tax Laws and Treaties -
100% of the future owned by 1% of the species.

It's in every paper, it's on every screen,
The drumbeat is progress and money is the dream.

The hard times are here we must all tighten our belts,
We must put up with sacrifice, every little will help.

But listen to the beating of those soft silver tongues -
They're not fasting they're feeding, until tomorrow never comes!

wit laz Bermoodah shores n aqualurngs
werbah dem mer-jayhaydeens surfgunj
bur gud, en Beg Depp o fifday...urm, Ah ferget,
bur arnat day tire flate depthly gart wyett!
NoAh caint raywahnd waves geronimrawd
jayhard Jonahs wept enta Katreena Nams,
bur wiv dare-x urb dare-i-yeahs o
oil-leannes, Ah mane dem ay-leannes,
Saudi Raypublek Navy surge-jinn-sea
bay stumped hinda aye-bull! Ray Nothing, hay

wungo 'Yippee-qa-e-da!' lark hay wahs
badseed brudda o Bruise Willies - he wo
arn hestree disc en ma grayskull - but dis
Bruise bro's
benna Loose-fur's tannin paliss.Hint no
squit wit cullurd folk tho, cuz bran ar grain,
Ahll speshilops tha lot! Hail o ha warders
hair urreddy, bur Yoo Wezzle ace n-game
wunz Marzpans sheet slicks ta raypay karnez
o hour corralen carsma caddleproads. Aint maple
fo Marzlimbs now starkpals o desert dayzil

nart own-loil zippin moderbows urlung.
Congy, sinka pitcha o scuppernung
ef yooz bolls fo diz bill. Paz et fo hour
fellah Mericonz n Allarz devowed
bah Impravarzd Dayloovienne Dayvizes
- holeast coast cloodin Trumpopliss, wetch Prez.
Trumpya Bush cooled Noo Yark: sgarn. Daird Sayshorz
o Izril Die-yesh dooshez dayloojd tow. Slez
arble hour bahbuls: 'Lard, Thy Will Be Dung!'
Novta Vice-Prez Garth Vader, sAh say surlung

n Guard Bless A Merry Cur.

DJColzz 4d

I conclude that I hate the world today
Everything people are and what they say
They speak no kind words by gesture or sound
There is no common decency around
People are not nice like they were before
I hate that there's no respect anymore
We are seriously lacking dignity
To a human race no affinity
We're all offended or aggravated
Whilst we act so cold and calculated
There's very few out there who won't pretend
Everyone's an enemy to a friend
We are ultimately in regression
Forcing ourselves into an oppression
Like we've gone back to the days of the cave
Not so the Stone Age ways should we enslave
Is it all about tearing someone apart?
Does anyone have love left in their heart?
Don't mean to be unkind
But if you wouldn't mind
I'd like to step off the planet now please
We are giving such little guarantees
I will take you with me
If you would like to see
An end to this damned scrutinising show
Time to leave ~ to somewhere only we know

Anyone have a TARDIS laying around they're not using at all? I was told to ask for The Doctor?

Young Donald is so very bigly hoping
that he can rest his fat golden ass in
the Queen's oh so golden carriage
when he visits those green, green lands
as he's used to sitting on golden stuff
& it makes him feel so very ...
special & important,

he's instructed his minions to pull strings
twist arms & just plain plead for this to be
allowed as he is just all pumped about the
idea of sticking his big orange head out of
the golden carriage so as he can wave to
the adoring multitudes,

it might even be better than the time they
allowed him to sit in that big, big truck &
toot that big, big horn ...

oh my is he excited.

Me ... I hope there's a riotous seething mob
that makes the storming of the bastille look
like a rowdy friday night at the pub,
but me,

I guess I'm just a dreamer.

scatbird saddle siddy nowfo You-n-i-dead
Archiplague-o arvUrmerica! Jed
Tarnationatrix frum da Gud Glactic
Neighbership Instute sez hogtyne Spays Shreks
then whammin wilecat wellz urb da jaxies
wel wen Marshan hinds - thail alligndance ta Fraydumb's
hoedown! Lez thair ingrates ho go kez Axis
wit Gog n Maygog-dayfrozdin Marslimbs,
hose Aqua47s ez tritchin
ta hydrajack uz wit Warders Mass Drownen

(dubyaemdee). Sany yooz ho waint withers
gainz bizmillah bergzilla-daychillurs,
Ahll bork yaszez arf! Kint holda holsturs,
god git laz galluns en shuddleboasters
ta Samaraterrorinly envade
Jorja Clay o Marz. Ez veeyennaville ef Slimbs
n Panz Marzipanistan posse made
(tellajunce vanjilists sez they soun lark kin);
Cold Saffrun nuffo Defcom Wun, aymen.
ThAh urshorz thextratesttrials, onest injun,

astramarines juz wailwishious hose wailarmed,
arn Red ta libralarz ay-lan ass farmz.  
Congressgation, ya Prez haz seen tecket
outta tha skellet, onest inuit:
well churg Marzpan pootrolyam larka Chinch
burg! Az ef Guantanama's centenry,
Merica gonna pardy, buck bad moon sence
Lice Hardy Oswald shart Prezdent Condy
en tow-fordy, ar sence thOPECaleps
o fordysects. N win transpordah sheps

Dhaara T 6d

I don't speak for or against
Except that I do speak
For humanity, against violence
If you...pick up that blob of attack
Smother it with vengeance
and throw; then run...and run as fast as you can
Because it will come back
As a bigger, nastier blob
Run, but a hiding place you won't find
How can you run from hatred?
When it has sunk into your very bones
Do you see it in the mirror each day?
It is eating up your soul
How can you live in peace?
With so much ugliness creepily creeping up
How low can you stoop? Another hit will tell
Why can't you control the bad
If it is really so, through good?
What's the difference then, between you and them?
You kill innocents in the process too
Then you too, must be a terrorist, dear government, isn't that true?

I wish we all could just I-hate-you-but-let's-just-chill. Where are you, Utopia? :(

well bust clymet pyrit slamic varmits,
I-tollah Ray Nothing aglubbin 'Quidit
pleez Yoo Wez, yoo wezzunt Q-klux cloots!
Jar reds aint frootzen jethrobelle crackajack
boots,
lark broback mounaineer kinda kafirs
- glope! Mericurz mo akbar, Ahll raybrand
Allah 'Apple Paella'! I-tollah
Rayll trah gater tears, brainwahshen brr-ounz
pleadin ya Prez lark Belzeebubby seal's
fa lean nancy - laz platoona Navy Seals

H2Uzi dem climacide Muzzies,
then libblerate dem Peez Frargs arn Moun Blank
wit streem prayerjudas. Gotta git gastanks
o tha hummerdingies shut o ay-lans'
assoline furs, bur Hundrad Yeahs Croosade
Prez. Rev. Dubyof Lattyday Mallratz planned
backen tholden days o oughtacades
bay pram tenderrump fusta finely whup
wunce weez festfulla foss fuel Marzipoop

- bay lark Texicanz versez dem Mexcanz
agin! So Ah sez ta yall, Congressgation,
stayshun arn U.S.S. Welyum Coldy
hair en thOverglades now thars no D.C.:
tha tarm fa whistlen dixies haf paz daird!
Anna senedders arn tha U.S.S.
Termnader Two Judgmaday, locaded
onna Straits o Honalula, hoo wez
gittin fez aydrez bah netcassd, ma
messedjez marty pottonkickin semlar:

I stood out on the street amongst the riot
Fire flew through the house windows in a flash
Screams of children echoed with the harsh gunshots
I tried to picture the flag but it was ash

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