At Least I'm Still Their Chosen Father

So, I've been culled.  
Thus I flow, mulled
 
Jesus, Ghandi, Lincoln, JFK, Bobby Kennedy, MLK, Medgar Evars, Malcom X, John Lennon
All said “Let's slow down and love each other, make peace and equality the standard.”
All were killed for it.
So while I respect each of them, my statement is a bit less universal, fits more personal.
 
Wizard of withering grooving,
Obliterating illusions.
Hack some prattle and grin.
“Back in the saddle again”.
 
Track the math roll when I begin.
Battle soul gritty spins the city's din!
My gleam pops, the scene is hot, at the green spot.
Eleventy-three! Fiftwentylast!
 
Remedies in THC, spliffs rend me fast!
 
Loose screws in? I'm used to proving
True shooting to rue confusion
Blue with looting like the New Putin
But if it's your groove I'm boosting?
 
Won't be no painful stain-hold forming.
Like Juice Newton
Call me “Angel of the Morning”.
I'm due to moving and reign storming!
 
I'd rather be baiting an unfurled range
Than “Waiting on the World to Change”.
Too impatient with what I'm making
To play with lazy statements.
 
It's not a tourney to scope on harm
Like Journey I come with “Open Arms”.
I used to be concerned about what my listener could swallow.
Felt so hollow.
 
Truth isn't edible
And I'm blue and credible
When I'm through editing my roll.
 
Spitting and slaying
'Cuz there's shit I can't be containing.
I bleed hymns that seethe
And drop seeds down every chimney
 
Like Santa practicing Tantra
Hiding in tingled styles
Or Banthas
Riding single file
Is my mantra
 
“Most powerful women understand and favor me.
Most powerful men like and respect me.
Most weak men fear and envy me.”
 
It's not propaganda,
It's what pops out of the sands, da!
Everywhere I've ever taken my stand to caw!
Whenever I dare to quaken my RAM so raw!
 
Close comrade gabbed last bit
“It's also not against the law to be sarcastic.”
But it's often dangerous to be honest.
 
Sarcastic isn't any more deceitful than reading ahead in your own timeline.
Just means you don't care if the other person bothered to look forward before stepping on their own tongue.
By that tactical track, sarcasm isn't crap pattery.
It's trap mastery.
 
If I'm flowing like it's a job to be killing chodes
Showing gobs of villainous nodes
Owe-ing mobs of debilitating loads
To a knob titillating by lustful prose in throes just wrote?
 
If I'm going Bob Dylan's road?
I'm aligned to the “End of the Line”
But Loki of Literati awoke to being prodded see
Oddities deposited to score and beat?
Make me go all “Positively 4th Street”.
 
Rotted social disease like hypocrisy
Was caught up in the history
And some hyped up crotchities?
Got jotted into my spree!
 
I can't appease, just rant and release
Please don't ask any more of me
Don't ask for clarity from me.
 
Here's some charity:
Fall out takes place in the land.
Like radiation's span.
 
No call outs means you were spared
A statement that also ran.
That's my therapy.
 
I caw for free, beware the Law of 3.
 
I was never a flunky lent,
But where I found a funky stench?
I sounded a hunch and spent...
 
A chunk of allure and my whole.
Started on the avuncular role.
Punch drunk and bent
 
Over the stumped punks clenched
Wherever I was sent.
 
I played my soul
And like David Grohl?
I'd “Never Be Your Monkeywrench.”
 
But that wasn't just clunky sentences.
I've trumped sense by bumping aside the dense
And coming to ride in the present tense.
 
Running to twirl and vibe
Gunning the world in my stride.
I picked up slack unfurled
And cracked my own pearls
 
With no hesitation whence!
So every day I made fateful for the ungrateful?
Is a day I was remade
And by layers my heart escaped, full!
 
I was culled!
But now I null limits within.
Like Krull with infinite mulligans!
 
Whoever changes the greatest range?
Can rate their claims on the greatest gain!
 
Aftermath:
 
Because patter grows
And shatters prose.
It would've been afterglow,
But this is me in raptured throes Divine chose
 
Loosed with a shudder, it's afterglow
When I seduce your mother!
But captured and stowed in the rafters like crows,
I lapse with no control mid-throw
 
And laughter blows!
Aftermath always means there's a gleam after that,
But human language can only bandage
 
The rip in spiritual fabric,
Even when spherical and magic.
Miracles tragic that barely match
The blare I catch,
Vibe and collect
From the original dialect!