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This is a subcultural song

Free energy efficient enthusiasts
Replaced the iroquois punk style
Alternatives, noisy *******; ear
Damaging drum bass boxes in da
Clubs. Ravishing rave parties in
Mini skirts, glam glossy brass on
Ecstatic strobe-light synthesis - a
Synthetic mainstream paradise
Submerged to hypnotic sucklings
On the colourful plastic pacifiers
A gummy retreat before waterless
Collaps. A dehidrated dream that
Tried to shut the world off by the
Tendrils of regression resemblance.
Adult babies aboard going back to
The false long forgotten innocence.

There is no subculture in being above
The depth. Superficiality seems a posh
Pose and a good hiding reason for socially
Awkward childish rebels without material
Issues. The sore tissue of contemporary art
Is people don't believe in subjective objective
Selves anymore. What authorities put on the
Shelves there - it has to be good-when on the
Real deal discount. You think im not of such
Kind. Sheepishly blindfolded herd lives some-
where else. I pity them. Mock the socially meek,
Unajust, fat, poor or a greek profile. It has to be
A button hot child candy nose to **** her or to
Call a beauty per se. Per american dream team.

***** are hot untill they have pneumatics, man
Are man if they whirl the banknotes under bank
Accounts. ******* act like man in disguise greedy
For more. I inhabitated all this inherently ugly
Preachy words instead of puking into a labdab
Lavatory and cleanse myself from repulsively
****** cultural intermittent artifacts. And how
Can i not subdue to its overwhelming pressure.
I'm just an indigo child of flower children. Don't
Throw me the bones fueled with the black golden
Marrow. I'm a new alternative peasant, growing
Carrots and celery at bio degradable villages. . .
Its not a contra cultural venture if your socks
Are made out of industrial cannabis, and yet
There's no need to. Think. Love. Play music.
Listen. Breathe. Live life as if yours favourite
subcultural song is repetedly on...going along
contrasenses Feb 2014
Some nights I tremble
at the images dancing in my mind
of the times you had me under your lock
twirling to your tunes
entirely enchanted by the present moment
I quickly interrupt those images -
"tomorrow is a new day"
one more day I will go without you
and be just fine
one more day you will wake up and regret
the bullets of infidelity you shot through my heart
the dagger of betrayal you repetedly pierced through my abdomen
lies
you deserve an oscar for your 8 month long performance
a dramatic horrific tragedy would be the category
but I wonder what you would disclose in your acceptance speech
regret?   loneliness?   despair?
perhaps I'll never know
my mother said "karma will have him withering and you not even a clue"
let it be true.

— The End —