Skyfall

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It’s not a crime to be pretty
Wearing rented dresses, searching for a breadwinner
Socialites & other plastic people
No redeeming qualities, but she wants to be thinner
Her vagina will accept almost anything
Whether it be dollars, pounds, marks or kroner
A consummate professional at all times
She expects to be well paid for every geriatric boner
You don’t look gift whores in the mouth
Searching for a sugar daddy, anyone will do
Sitting in the bullpen, hoping to get promoted
Waiting to pluck her next victim, how many already gone through
That swath leaving nothing to the imagination
Offended when the whispers mention a gold digger
Everyone can spy those silicone scars
Next time she’ll go a couple of cups bigger
Sucking more than the marrow out of life
She’s trading her youth for money & security
But once tarnished, Innocence forever besmirched
Time is constantly magnifying all your impurities
There are certain priorities in this life
A father must keep his daughters off the pole
But something much less discussed nowadays
What do you do once she grew without a soul
This scene is littered with heinous & fickle creatures
Cloaked, it slowly begins to scandalize & appall
Men with large billfolds & absolutely no shame
The current failure of society & they call it Skyfall

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Nell Zink

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“Even his fucking was binary, a sorting process by which certain practices could be tried and found wanting or approved and accorded benchmark status.”

– Nell Zink, The Wallcreeper

Choosing Certain Words

  

Choosing certain words
With connotations to stir
The hearts of the audience
Cocked crow with pubic fur
Sitting uncomfortably – like whaa?
Where the hell is he going with this
Delusional in this rehabilitating fatigue
Longing for the peace that I miss

Cold War Runways Still Clearly Marked

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Cold war runways still clearly marked
A legacy of certain impending doom
Farmhouse grill just the other side
These suburbanites need more room
Lost family values since those days
Deteriorated grain silos crumble in rust
Red wooden barn needing more paint
Orchard roads merely a path of dust
Good soil to grow your dreams in
Futures not to be hindered by our past
Imagine a world where children are free
Free to imagine a peace that will last