Torrid, swells
The aquamarine aquatic, torpedoes
To the zealous fate of antlers
Bucking in the wood
Of jousting imbeciles
Wondering, nonsense is the word
To the arrows of squalor pits
In the southern sphere of the flat earther
Birther, certificates of divorce
Yet, reacquaint with me
For none know their murders
Their slanders
Their thefts.
All are murderous
To the wretched swells…
Thus, deeply laden is the sin
Which torpedoes to the crux of civilization.
Into the demon reality
Goes the weary mind
To the swells of the oceans felt
Yet, flee from the nonsense!
’tis only nonsense.
That is what it means
When Jesus washes away our sins.
The mermaids live in the yellow submarine
The giants in the plane beneath the earth;
To this yellow submarine
Goes our sin.
Wretched, redeemer Himself
Ran to us with blood soaked hands
Redemption
Our spotted souls
Need only succumb.
Flesh rots, stunk up the carcass
Of our six hundred and sixty-six lies.
For money, for fame
To see the lands beneath our lands
In leviathan’s belly;
Torpedoes the soul
To the land of candy and answers
Where the childish souls
Seek to die. Oh how they seek to die
In a land of candy and answers
Where above that, say, is the heavens of heavens of.
I skipped to it, yet was freed.
By blood, soaked in the cloth of Turin
Where my heart was made and ripped into bands
Knowing the full breadth of sin
Could be laden on my
Time phased heart.
A thousand lives, a thousand lives
We live it, and are shifted.
The blood and water washed them all away.
B. K. Neifert 