ACHING MINDS

I pardon the sometime guest,

Whose sane lips yoke mine mind york,

That perhaps a coin has but three faces,

To the fop a fountain of flawless rage,

A truth whose eyes vex convectional beauty,



I tread lightly with those,

Who steal food from the mouth,

Of those crippled in age and mind,

For ebony is to be found in the bones

Of those in a cradle,

A place where mind carcasses are

fed on by those old and grey.





I am with those,

Who in their stupidity

Rebel against them selves,

For the only thing worse than a criminal

Is but a politician.



I stand with those,

Who do not believe what they see,

With those who do not need hands to catch faith,

With the tribe-less degenerated seed roaming the pearl,

With the bastard whose inheritance is enclosed in egg shells,

With the woman whose sagging breasts never define her beauty,

With the law and its impurities to be purchased with coin,

With injustice for justice has no place in the face of truth,

With friends who are but a rare commodity,



With the egg of my bliss,

With the forsaken for they find solace in death,



With institutions of brainwashing for it is only accurate for unfairness to exist

With Lou-bega for she is my heart stream,

With those who find muse in aching minds.