deepundergroundpoetry.com
Scary that Mary wasn't a whore, she pleased Jesus and then more
Cocky Clergy got off in a hurry
Sloppy and blurry their blunder condition
I stop and swerve for their
Christ-mistress underwritten!
A half-tale as these ass-pails were terrified of
The real lore lasting with males!
Snap my fingers, black magic lingers,
Lightning flashes and the sky above my eyes cracks
Like the crescendo track of a country singer.
Conquering across the country was a real hungry scene
Until I met Mary Magdalene
Proceeded with visions obscene
Past the shadow of death's ravine
And the guillotine of Nazarene
To steal this queen from off the scene.
A wounded left-winger too soon to swoon
This mudslinger just had to be sure.
No cure for a view through booze
Too interred to slur my words.
Straight sex leaves nothing obscured.
Sin only begins with a viewer’s lens impure.
Go fill your Depends filthy close-minded cur!
Faded and hazy, drunkenly swaying
In a lazy breeze Mistress Magdalene
Slipped behind the scenes
But I'm too tipsy to pull an identity,
The tip of grace even when so shitfaced
I’m hardly seeing in 3D. My mistake?
Wasn't in the risk to take
But the fix of fate for this pirate rake
To introduce undercover and seduce the mother
2 millenium tried to uncreate,
Whose palate and pate
Painted from between her legs
Medieval to modern history of late:
Every native land spanked,
Depraved life span ended by man's hand
Christianity ever did take.
Cocky Clergy got off in a hurry
Sloppy and blurry their blunder condition
I stop and swerve for their
Christ-mistress underwritten!
A half-tale as these ass-pails were terrified of
The real lore lasting with males!
While no mumbling punk or clumsy stumbling drunk
I wasn't faking being so faded as to mistake the maiden face
Of the triumverate of HeCATE and Ishtar out of EuphrATES.
All the distrust of truth left to rust like a junkie spoon,
History held underground too soon
'Til the sound swelled from deep in her
Bellows and under 'em
Like the spells of colors I taste and smell
After eating my enemy's cerebellum.
Expounding to exploding and outpouring
Her crooning voice fell on ears deaf to the Hell
They brought on themselves.
All I could hear was the agony of the years,
Searing like the fears expecting their own back.
Like reflections of collections
Of dismembered tender members,
Precious ages to remember, smoldering embers
Of noses and ears I see in the eyes and tears
Of every home grown to pray,
Thrown away, mowed like whey
Where scimitars slayed, bones ground
Into pavement faded gray child of the crusades.
You historical editorialists are so fucking gay!
Magdalene spotted my play, sashayed my way
Said "You speak ignorant and honest
Like a cunning linguist on chronic and that's okay."
Cocky Clergy got off in a hurry
Sloppy and blurry their blunder condition
I stop and swerve for their
Christ-mistress underwritten!
A half-tale as these ass-pails were terrified of
The real lore lasting with males!
A dead ringer for a folk singer
Who left her mark through the days
I said "You're Joan Baez?
Or Janis Joplin!" as my mind started popping.
She smiled and said "Just Mary."
Off the charts and STILL chopping
I said "Mary?! Where's Peter and Paul?"
Because the Renaissance came to a crawl,
Set me to fall for those who saw it all
Sent the blight before my sight.
Now returned, interred, prepared
Where the despair of witches burned
Churned the soil where rustic truth toiled
So their blues spoiled in a melting pot boiled
Would earn a groove in matriarchal martial attitude,
Music impartial to patriarch's theocratic tragic arc.
Exponential potential lost in intergenerational stunted start,
Runts of mental warts when hypocritical old farts
Made it so... je ne veux pas ces reves... I say no!
Pass! Insist to erase this! Although the past
Misses its place to exist
It says so in every vicious missive.
I didn't ask to roll subliminal splits.
At first it was just a front it seemed,
But thirst at once unwinded curtain seams,
Blind yet certain from behind the scenes.
I sought to shunt the stream,
I do not want these dreams.
A karma crash perhaps
From a wobbly drunk,
Code of Hammurabi punk,
Naughty chode monk
Praying that my days
Would be made with paying
The toll that fits from the days I stole shit.
Absconded to survive on it,
To jive, striving to ride the tide,
Running chronic, gunning short con lists.
My lifewish read like crimson mist
With dizzy twists, frighteningly elastic
Like light refracted
Through prisms' magic
Crystal tryst. Honest & intuitive
But too primitive I never got it right
So say a prayer for me tonight
If it justifies slicing subliminal sleights.
The toll of self-righteous
Indignance of brought to light.
No roll Loki! Not tonight, mon ami.
I don't know how to console your control
So get on and find another entity
For symbiosis in prose
To hit with your wishlist.
The exposure of tyranny
In the improper imploder
Of the mirror-me tragedy
In an asshole offendee's malady
REQUIRES me as an E.M.T.
To melody their insecurity
When held above me, a projection
Of self-collection like early 3D
Before ILM, LucasArts, LSD set it free.
Cocky Clergy got off in a hurry
Sloppy and blurry their blunder condition
I stop and swerve for their
Christ-mistress underwritten!
A half-tale as these ass-pails were terrified of
The real lore lasting with males!
Mary said "Whooooa! That's not me,
Mary Magdalene you see,
That's the missed vision of derision in Christianity."
I said "Hoooold your tongue,
Younger hunger of a Mother,
Edified, sanctified, fit to be tied,
Yet still getting laid Maid
And golden rustling, silently hustling,
Violently enlivened wisened Crone!
Hold your tongue,
Young Mother, Maiden and Crone!
Hoooold your tongue once there
with the speed of your earlier trembling despair,
Minus the mad-dog stare.
I really wanna' hear you scream and moan
"Whoooooa!" again from right there."
Mary bespells me to fall, so where again is Peter and Paul?
Because alcohol drowns sorrows,
Found or borrowed, Peaks adventures,
Speaks for unmentionable pressure
Harrowing treasures from hallowed ground
Since before pleasured pharaohs were around,
Swallowed as an expenditure followed or scrounged
Leading to sodden ground like hollow point rounds.
And blind Bible miles migratory followers to this story
Won't be sorry for the sound
Or worry that you and I met,
Just where we're both later found.
Time travel once an oddity
Of the brilliantly naughty only.
In clues left from future news
Undisguised diatribe from blogs
Of rich and lonely, as yet written,
Orally restoring historical kittensmirks
With an outlaw's sure allure.
Begging for cures more certain and impure
Than murderous verse, no worry more terse
When generations from the future
Returned to secure a vision for me to fix this first.
Cocky Clergy got off in a hurry
Sloppy and blurry their blunder condition
I stop and swerve for their
Christ-mistress underwritten!
A half-tale as these ass-pails were terrified of
The real lore lasting with males!
Sloppy and blurry their blunder condition
I stop and swerve for their
Christ-mistress underwritten!
A half-tale as these ass-pails were terrified of
The real lore lasting with males!
Snap my fingers, black magic lingers,
Lightning flashes and the sky above my eyes cracks
Like the crescendo track of a country singer.
Conquering across the country was a real hungry scene
Until I met Mary Magdalene
Proceeded with visions obscene
Past the shadow of death's ravine
And the guillotine of Nazarene
To steal this queen from off the scene.
A wounded left-winger too soon to swoon
This mudslinger just had to be sure.
No cure for a view through booze
Too interred to slur my words.
Straight sex leaves nothing obscured.
Sin only begins with a viewer’s lens impure.
Go fill your Depends filthy close-minded cur!
Faded and hazy, drunkenly swaying
In a lazy breeze Mistress Magdalene
Slipped behind the scenes
But I'm too tipsy to pull an identity,
The tip of grace even when so shitfaced
I’m hardly seeing in 3D. My mistake?
Wasn't in the risk to take
But the fix of fate for this pirate rake
To introduce undercover and seduce the mother
2 millenium tried to uncreate,
Whose palate and pate
Painted from between her legs
Medieval to modern history of late:
Every native land spanked,
Depraved life span ended by man's hand
Christianity ever did take.
Cocky Clergy got off in a hurry
Sloppy and blurry their blunder condition
I stop and swerve for their
Christ-mistress underwritten!
A half-tale as these ass-pails were terrified of
The real lore lasting with males!
While no mumbling punk or clumsy stumbling drunk
I wasn't faking being so faded as to mistake the maiden face
Of the triumverate of HeCATE and Ishtar out of EuphrATES.
All the distrust of truth left to rust like a junkie spoon,
History held underground too soon
'Til the sound swelled from deep in her
Bellows and under 'em
Like the spells of colors I taste and smell
After eating my enemy's cerebellum.
Expounding to exploding and outpouring
Her crooning voice fell on ears deaf to the Hell
They brought on themselves.
All I could hear was the agony of the years,
Searing like the fears expecting their own back.
Like reflections of collections
Of dismembered tender members,
Precious ages to remember, smoldering embers
Of noses and ears I see in the eyes and tears
Of every home grown to pray,
Thrown away, mowed like whey
Where scimitars slayed, bones ground
Into pavement faded gray child of the crusades.
You historical editorialists are so fucking gay!
Magdalene spotted my play, sashayed my way
Said "You speak ignorant and honest
Like a cunning linguist on chronic and that's okay."
Cocky Clergy got off in a hurry
Sloppy and blurry their blunder condition
I stop and swerve for their
Christ-mistress underwritten!
A half-tale as these ass-pails were terrified of
The real lore lasting with males!
A dead ringer for a folk singer
Who left her mark through the days
I said "You're Joan Baez?
Or Janis Joplin!" as my mind started popping.
She smiled and said "Just Mary."
Off the charts and STILL chopping
I said "Mary?! Where's Peter and Paul?"
Because the Renaissance came to a crawl,
Set me to fall for those who saw it all
Sent the blight before my sight.
Now returned, interred, prepared
Where the despair of witches burned
Churned the soil where rustic truth toiled
So their blues spoiled in a melting pot boiled
Would earn a groove in matriarchal martial attitude,
Music impartial to patriarch's theocratic tragic arc.
Exponential potential lost in intergenerational stunted start,
Runts of mental warts when hypocritical old farts
Made it so... je ne veux pas ces reves... I say no!
Pass! Insist to erase this! Although the past
Misses its place to exist
It says so in every vicious missive.
I didn't ask to roll subliminal splits.
At first it was just a front it seemed,
But thirst at once unwinded curtain seams,
Blind yet certain from behind the scenes.
I sought to shunt the stream,
I do not want these dreams.
A karma crash perhaps
From a wobbly drunk,
Code of Hammurabi punk,
Naughty chode monk
Praying that my days
Would be made with paying
The toll that fits from the days I stole shit.
Absconded to survive on it,
To jive, striving to ride the tide,
Running chronic, gunning short con lists.
My lifewish read like crimson mist
With dizzy twists, frighteningly elastic
Like light refracted
Through prisms' magic
Crystal tryst. Honest & intuitive
But too primitive I never got it right
So say a prayer for me tonight
If it justifies slicing subliminal sleights.
The toll of self-righteous
Indignance of brought to light.
No roll Loki! Not tonight, mon ami.
I don't know how to console your control
So get on and find another entity
For symbiosis in prose
To hit with your wishlist.
The exposure of tyranny
In the improper imploder
Of the mirror-me tragedy
In an asshole offendee's malady
REQUIRES me as an E.M.T.
To melody their insecurity
When held above me, a projection
Of self-collection like early 3D
Before ILM, LucasArts, LSD set it free.
Cocky Clergy got off in a hurry
Sloppy and blurry their blunder condition
I stop and swerve for their
Christ-mistress underwritten!
A half-tale as these ass-pails were terrified of
The real lore lasting with males!
Mary said "Whooooa! That's not me,
Mary Magdalene you see,
That's the missed vision of derision in Christianity."
I said "Hoooold your tongue,
Younger hunger of a Mother,
Edified, sanctified, fit to be tied,
Yet still getting laid Maid
And golden rustling, silently hustling,
Violently enlivened wisened Crone!
Hold your tongue,
Young Mother, Maiden and Crone!
Hoooold your tongue once there
with the speed of your earlier trembling despair,
Minus the mad-dog stare.
I really wanna' hear you scream and moan
"Whoooooa!" again from right there."
Mary bespells me to fall, so where again is Peter and Paul?
Because alcohol drowns sorrows,
Found or borrowed, Peaks adventures,
Speaks for unmentionable pressure
Harrowing treasures from hallowed ground
Since before pleasured pharaohs were around,
Swallowed as an expenditure followed or scrounged
Leading to sodden ground like hollow point rounds.
And blind Bible miles migratory followers to this story
Won't be sorry for the sound
Or worry that you and I met,
Just where we're both later found.
Time travel once an oddity
Of the brilliantly naughty only.
In clues left from future news
Undisguised diatribe from blogs
Of rich and lonely, as yet written,
Orally restoring historical kittensmirks
With an outlaw's sure allure.
Begging for cures more certain and impure
Than murderous verse, no worry more terse
When generations from the future
Returned to secure a vision for me to fix this first.
Cocky Clergy got off in a hurry
Sloppy and blurry their blunder condition
I stop and swerve for their
Christ-mistress underwritten!
A half-tale as these ass-pails were terrified of
The real lore lasting with males!
Published 2nd Jul 2012
| Edited 30th Jun 2013
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 2
reading list entries 1
comments 4
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Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
10th Oct 2012 9:57am
16th Oct 2012 3:36am
Thank you for giving my work a chance. There is far too much that was buried in the annals of history and then rewritten by lame storytellers who didn't believe in fact-checking. When religious stories start to repeat themselves, and events in real life start to reflect, it becomes time for the gutterwise to retell the stories the way they more likely could've happened, versus the way they were memorized.
As it stands the story of Mary Magdalene being seduced in a bar by a wandering bard who mistook her for a folk singer? Could've happened to ANYONE in ANY bar really...
As it stands the story of Mary Magdalene being seduced in a bar by a wandering bard who mistook her for a folk singer? Could've happened to ANYONE in ANY bar really...
17th Oct 2012 5:47pm
Sure, I was a bit intimidated at first from the size, but when I started reading one of your works I just couldn't stop. You're a great writer, in my humble opinion.
I did like the way you wrote this though, I agree with the whole repetitive religious stories though. I was Christian not too many years ago and I was reading the Bible through last year - I'm Buddhist now for the record - and I noticed how they all started to almost run together in similar fashions in certain places.
I did like the way you wrote this though, I agree with the whole repetitive religious stories though. I was Christian not too many years ago and I was reading the Bible through last year - I'm Buddhist now for the record - and I noticed how they all started to almost run together in similar fashions in certain places.
19th Oct 2012 4:32pm
I read the bible twice, and got a veeeery different story from excluding the words that weren't of Christ. Okay, take the King James version sometime. Everything Jesus says is in red. Everything else is in black. Read the book cover to cover and meditate on it. Then read ONLY the stuff in read.....
...then read the Tao Te Ching. Once you take the politics out, it's clear how down to Earth many, many messiahs were, regardless of what name they were given.
...then read the Tao Te Ching. Once you take the politics out, it's clear how down to Earth many, many messiahs were, regardless of what name they were given.