Chieftain’s used to bow and nod their cap in my direction.
And I’d wonder what slice-of-pie would be in store for me today.
Trading North Carolina for Baltimore memories.
And every sconced-lightpost is another story to home that doesn’t exist anymore.
Persecution is the OutLawShit(easily.) Life I formed,
For my own tribulation.
My stakes, The Risk is No-Reward.Ever.
I don’t care much to have my ass kissed.
I grew up with fakers slapping my hands with rulers for being ambidextrous.
How else would one serve the holy-wine of communion
And slipper of cracker.
This undying feel I’m going to do it wrong.
Right behind the whore that bites that Father’s Fingers in wafer.
Sad, sigh.
And I just crush them into the chicken-cutlet dish.
Another slur.
The Negro Nun with Black Hair.
And all the irishmen left, bleached with hydrogen peroxide.
Sold out to Protestantism.
I never thought Dublin would turn so easily.
And the scots would wear lederhaousn
Instead of the good robe of tartan.
I still know how to wrap into dress, robed.
Sanctity in my own responsibility and no one really knows what’s happening.
Gets scared when I demand privacy to no reach and just start praying.
Who cares who hears me.
The God I saw today drives a Tesla and a Hummer on Summer Vacation.
The Satan that haunted me, is a stalker for love and worship by puppy-dog association of gay-quieries.
And the white-devil is a weirdo with bad tattoos that fucks a cob-of-corn for fleshlight.
And somehow the false-prophet and that who did not bear the weight-of-cross.
Is a bland chef and sad white-boi rapper that doesn’t know how to use a wrapper.
Cogulous and imndelible.
Call me you n-word.
And I’ll recite in black to embarrass you once again.
Your beer-bottle nipple of baby’s breath that bore you –
Was inadmissible.
You were born to a whore.
Bastard.
And I made the Recon.
Deacons don’t give up.
And Popa is an Opa of a moment.
Do. Not. Follow. Me.
Save-Your-Own-Soul.
Virtue in every scripture, I’ve written.
Unwitting verse of lines and I haven’t shared anything personal about me since the bombs started dropping in Korea.
Get the fuck out of Town, Ash.
No one wants you here.
And I want the World.
Last train to Jacksonville.
Vengeance for the Conquistoardirasia.
The Nun in Black.
And curly-cues for blind angler-danglers.
I have no interest in your nor your man.
I just remember a broken priest with jezebel daughter and harlequin half-wife-sister.
Fuck up your own apostiliamsm.s hmm father?
To the son you don’t cry about.
To the whores you make by hand for another turducken stuffing.
I ask unto thee.
Thoust must not be too confident with one’s self these days, huh?
It’s like all the women ran out on ya.
And they only got one name in praise to vain to say.
I think Sam has been Ash this whole time.
Pearl of a Girl, indeed.
Woodman.
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