Friday, December 13, 2013

Queen of France

metal flowers

Objects of philosophical dominance.

I was gonna deal with the prop objects of my fathers
repertoire of displayed behaviourism,
but after a while, that turns me into a snitch.

The snitch, the possible listing of accruant objects,
wanting as info a policement headquarters,
completely indoors...
rather than the drive-by fun, they may know of,
of a reliced car or truck here and there,
just dumping garbage.

They tempt on, the tell of the trade mechanism weapon.

What a decadent bunch of men
who entertain life,
through the direct handling
of their self-defensive protective paraphenalia,
objects entertained...from the dawn of time.

A romance with protectionism,
for him was there, into elements?
we're only growing up a new feng shui way.
its called moderization,
and I guess he supports constructionism.

A cost there? and why so fast,
why support the glass ceilings all the way to everlast.

A diehard do-goody,
who's the churchboy now?

Losing respect here,
He's the puppet,
of the oversaint...
corporate cow of aquaint.

doomslayers work in other ways also,
as I'm hippin on the hip-hop on,
jumpin from stair to stair,
reggin' in, on quiet spoken out declare,
gonna learn to multiply there.

danger, risked-in
multiplication numbers
way too high
numbers too serious,
edging in as the irs
or some gambler recall
of a pay-up there.

deep punching that wall?
that's one of those tells,
its a stop for me,
just day trading, found an emmo trader.
drop it back... your just a little girl
this is not mathematics around me-ever.

Never for you,
maths do not a represent numbers
free to you.
free, free at last, martin chimes in,
they always have it worse,
its blacks first,

stand down, equal rights to women,
it's not an ever to go on, not for you,
it his self-defense
his rights to continue to spur the beast.

Do I need a second sight in,
secret love to a table on the tiny,
gracing quiet into the study of school,
It was a pretty table,
light oak, a great shape,
perfect to learn from,
everyday and afterschool.

gone in sixty seconds, yeah.
calm out and be a weaver,
weave the woves
on the in and the out,

yeah I guess so,
who needs old math,
or tables that wear calculators.

I could of written out my report card there and then,
b-, c+, with despairs of a d thrown in.

no way to that table, not ever,
not even a hand-me down pen.

pretty much gone, probably the last in its design,
let's mourn the table,
I'm, going eco,
yeah I guess so, no passive way?
retaliative eco...
what kinda flower is that way?

A new business idea, metal flowers,
perhaps not a great seller,
cameras eye spyin...
buyers of their blings and blatts.  

respect your father, everyone.
just get out of here,
he doesn't deserve your red-haired
wordy weapons of overdo.
just cook and feed the cat.