Vexren4000 May 7
Rolling dice,
Tossing coins,
Probability sometimes our friend,
Other days lady luck is vengeful.
Numerals rolled,
Amounts on a die.
Faces of the coins.
Or roulette wheels,
Random chance?
Or controlled chance?
Man knows but does not,
That is the beauty of,
Probability.
James Khan May 6
Put on your shoes, son,
I'll walk you through some
Gruesome roads of our constitution,

Show you the clues, son,
The views undone by the poverty persecution,

You read the news, son?
The Huegenots lost but it cost a revolution,
The fall of an institution,

And proof, son
That slaves won't take the abuse on,
Nepotists fall from grace and face execution,

But the poor man's sore hands grasp an illusion,
Performing an act of ablution
In blood for the counterfeit union,
For the black-Mass cash communion,

(ruin your nice suit)

Soon you'll know all that I've taught,
Caught short
By those that you though
Would offer support,

Motherfuckers just lie and extort
But you already bought
What they sell and it leaves you distraught,

As the mirrors distort
They contort
The shape of the corporate dreadnought,
It's célébrez la mort,
Bled out by the onslaught,

Self-obsessed, wealth-repressed,
Blessed by the sins of the overwrought,

Lord, won't you throw a fucking lifeline?!
All the poor have are drugs and the knife-crime,
Isn't it time that they followed the right sign,
And saw a star that wasn't induced by a white line?
Silhouette of men
Shadows marked on ground
by orange city lights
Complimented by few cars' sounds.

Sky split unto: little gloomy part
Pure raven on the other
Cloth of stars
And before the infinite beyond thin cover.

Oh how beautiful art thou
To hear nothing but peace
Oh how beautiful art thou lovely night
Reason to live,
                            a blessing,
                                                 a masterpiece.
James Khan Apr 29
Open it up, the dystopian opium-den,

Ten-sixteen don't mean a fucking thing to the holy men

So I'll say it again:

You're all just sheep from the same fucking pen,

But there ain't no room for diversity,

Certainly not in the God-squad global insurgency,

Moral uncertainty

Nurturing states of emergency,

Society bleeding out, needing surgery,

Caught in the first degree murder-spree,

Shit! That's why I medicate herbally,

Deservedly,

It helps me scrape off the motherfucking verdigris,

Invertebrate sheep, you keep the fucking creeds in stasis,

Your 'isms' and 'ists', your separatist nepotist graces,

The way that you raise us

And fucking appraise us

Provides us the basis for prejudiced races

And pays us the due respect we expect from the haters,

Berate us, you fuckers we still won't give praises,

(now, places please, we're about to begin)

Cry sin,

Dive in with the Christ-thing,

Call a man a 'kaffir' 'cos he fears no lightning,

Sees no need for the greed and the fighting,

Doesn't pick sides with the brown-and-the-white t'ing

And stands there indicting

What good-books claim is the 'right thing',

Those frightening lies, (I mean lines) of compliance,

The chains of the holy alliance

Like leg-irons,

Buying your silence

And forcing reliance

On the science of fucking control,

That's why I roll,

Acapulco Gold is good for the soul,

Primes the mind for the dive in the rabbit hole,

Wonderland on-remand but I made parole,

(old smokin' caterpillar fillin' my pipe-bowl)

Sold the trip from the manuscripts,

Pitch your scripture,

Commit to benefit

But only the only the bit

That your literature permits,

(the rest can eat shit)

As you cry from the snake-pit,

Spurning the world and you learn to forsake it,

Your saviour won't save ya' but fucking enslave ya'

And rape ya' but man, you'll just take it,

(Salaam alai-cum)

Undone by the crimes

Of divinity's paradigms,

(I'm pleased, at least that they see me as the Beast)

The Gadarene swine,

The vilified Philistine,

The Wormwood star-shine,

The motherfucking sign of the cross with inverted lines,

Ad-Dhajal singing Last Times,

The Rapture captured in fast rhymes

So let me correct you all,

Infect the intellectual,

Inject the metrosexual,

Fucking disconnect you all

And set you all free from the spiritual mirror-ball,

Deliver y'all unto reason, direct you all

Straight to the ancient statement of Saint Paul,

Say three-twenty-eight,

Equality's mandate,

Reminders to be kind and don't differentiate,

Offset pride with a sanctified counterweight

And segregate nothing but the notion of your prejudiced hate,

So call to the fallen angels,

The strange, all the pained

And deranged, all the fucking insane

And contagious,

All the fucking outrageous,

The ones without wages,

The armchair sages

The sick-pay crusaders,

Stand up to the system that made us,

Labeled and fucking betrayed us,

That grades us on status,

That rates us according to archaic pages,

Bastardised lies from the Babylon ages,

Take Paul, take John

(bringing Ringo and George along),

The world can argue about where it all went wrong,

I'll hum bars from a Cypress song,

Fetch my four-footer, take hits from the bong.
John 10:16 is an interesting verse in the NT. My take is that the 'other sheep' are the other people, believers in a different faith that are all united under the one fold of a universal God. After all, there's only one. Apparently.

Galatians 3:28, according to Saint Paul the Apostle is the other reference:

"There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus"  

The swine of Gadarene are famous for being the vessels that Jesus used to contain two demons (according to Saint Matthew) before driving them suicidally into the sea. Poor piggies.

Philistines are Old Testament antagonists synonymous with oppression and religious intolerance. The word has now been coined to mean anybody ignorant of culture and spiritualism.

Star Wormwood is the herald of the Antichrist, known in Islamic culture as the Ad-Dhajal.

Interestingly the inverted cross isn't synonymous with Satan but with Saint Peter who was crucified upside-down at his own request, due to his feelings of inadequacy against his Master's model.

Cypress Hill recorded the top tune 'Hits from the Bong' in the early nineties.

Acapulco Gold is old-school Age of Aquarius weed, very rare nowadays and very expensive
Vexren4000 Apr 27
Does desolate buildings,
Decaying infrastructure,
Destroyed humanity,
Loss of revenue,
Mean we are any less human,
At the end of all things?
Most likely,
Then we will have found once again,
Our true humanity.

©BAS
Vexren4000 Apr 21
Small silver keys,
For lock boxes,
Chests of drawers,
And forgotten doors,
Hidden in attics and basements,
These little keys,
Can hold the passage,
To secrets long past.

©BAS
Vexren4000 Mar 28
Cafe's Coffee,
Courting Patrons,
To its doors,
The aroma of fresh coffee,
Flooding the town streets,
Little cafes,
With scones and lattes,
Making people feel some peace,
Before work begins.

©BAS
I loved the honesty.
Netflix, chill then what.
I'd love to unfold you all night.
A reiteration of
Laying on our backs
No longer hesitant.
No longer ignorant.
Transcending the labels we both  keep inside.
Suggesting that there's more to appearance.
Standing in the chills of liberation.
We soon were caught in
Organized noise
Lost in flims of smoke
All night long.
Shall we roll another or two.
If I told you right then whose wrong,
Two separate interpretations.
Each to send tremors of truth of what's really happened.
Netflix waits in response
Mahogany fingertips.
Intellectual stimulation.
Damn I forgot errythang I was supposed to be doing.
I concur wholeheartedly with this unexpected attraction.
The television a distraction.
Current circumstances.
Thinking about you
Open invitation
at the top
of the National Museum,
there is a bed of Highland Gorse,
tamed by a rope of metal, and
given Latin names.

dirty, moon white branches
barely hold
sickled leaves which
fall into gloam drenched soil.

transplanted, and
awkwardly placed,
between two concrete slabs,
it looks and sounds alien to the city.

displaced, amongst the dull
incomprehensible squeal of
tourists and gulls, the heavy
roar of dim traffic, muted
bagpipes and the occasional
camera click.

looking upwards,
the shallow blue north
of an uncluttered sky,
and the thin
uneven line of an aircraft,
divided in two.
National Museum of Scotland, written across a period of four days.
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