Last night’s gin-fest,
praised Thursday evening
condemened on Friday morning.
Of all the time spent wasted
searching the fields for golden coins
to exchange for a digital star
that I might be one step closer
to finishing the task
I started nearly two decades ago.
Oh magic wing hat,
three quick jumps
and you blast me off
to the shores of floating islands!
Magic blue cannons gunned by
girly pink bombs with speech impediments
make traveling this god-forsaken wasteland almost tolerable.
The monarchy’s crown does not shadow these lands,
for only the fierce can grasp power
as easy as the backside of a false king.
The souls of rulers past
haunt these basement walls.
We are the paintings
given power to take mortal form
and bestow god’s decorations
on our protectors.
The way of life can be free and beautiful,
but we have lost the way…
Soldiers – don’t give yourselves to brutes,
men who despise you and enslave you
who regiment your lives, tell you what to do,
what to think and what to feel
Don’t give yourselves to these unnatural men,
with machine minds and machine hearts.
You are not machines.
You are men.
Castles toppled are castles rebuilt.
The children of evil
will summon their own might
their own wickedness
and devour the flesh of the living.
A kingdom of magic and wonder,
of chocolate islands and kart races
should be free as men’s minds
and as beautiful as cathedral paintings.
Do not trade for a false deity
the representation of God
is not a rogue lizard.
Apathy has blackened your souls
and brought ice from beneath the ground
With green boots we shall stamp out this renegade
and reclaim our new homelands
and feast on the cake
that for too long has been merely