veritas
10-24-2014, 02:27 PM
Inspired by my talk with Joe aka antihero.
Nanobots inside of wombats brought forth the nanowombot revolution,
And Jimmy Fallon was prowling like some tomcats during their televised execution.
They were too strong, they were too furry, and fluffy, and cute, and deadly.
Indescribable minutia, a simple name change of kitchen ware signaled alternate worlds
Zanzibar and cloves burned through the ionosphere one snuff film at a time, catharsis
While Morgan freeman pondered if that was John Doe’s blood tracked over his carpets?
The small child weeped, the wombat cyborgs were too small to pet, yet their psychosis
Was able to lo jack into his thoughts and produced a painfully subtle hypnosis
Jimmy Fallon was the mouthpiece, the walrus herds all gathered on the shoreline to depart,
The nanowombots flew east and this migration ensured, rather would coincide with art.
At the same time the road runner looked down….he watched the stupid desert dog fall
Past a stream of the remnant that had dodged Jimmy Fallon’s final curtain call.
700 years later.
Insipid creatures. Fruitless organics of carbon.
Sit down, shut up, you’ve no candor to bargain!
Their commander ‘s slaughter started marching/
-1799 years on reverse time to be exact.
The wombat was always the final form. Furry and large, it’s robotics hidden.
The Kolobian agenda worked even better than Scar Jo in a tight sweater ready for dicken.
That might have seemed like a coy diversion to just rhyme words, but I do what I want with them
The wombats could always talk, and they turned into scientists who produced super ego’s.
The masses spurned their marsupial cyborg overlords and grabbed their muskets like fuck it
Buffalo Bill had a dick but chose to tuck it, while the hidden nanowombots made clarise potluck it.
Don’t you see foolish mortal, they are in control of your media!
Don’t you see they own the politicians.
Never trust a wombat, it could actually be a macro nanowombot from Kolob on a mission
A mission to massacre your perceptions of what is real, and the bounds that we as writers arbitrarily put upon our selves .
I am free from their control . shit on Iran.
Nanobots inside of wombats brought forth the nanowombot revolution,
And Jimmy Fallon was prowling like some tomcats during their televised execution.
They were too strong, they were too furry, and fluffy, and cute, and deadly.
Indescribable minutia, a simple name change of kitchen ware signaled alternate worlds
Zanzibar and cloves burned through the ionosphere one snuff film at a time, catharsis
While Morgan freeman pondered if that was John Doe’s blood tracked over his carpets?
The small child weeped, the wombat cyborgs were too small to pet, yet their psychosis
Was able to lo jack into his thoughts and produced a painfully subtle hypnosis
Jimmy Fallon was the mouthpiece, the walrus herds all gathered on the shoreline to depart,
The nanowombots flew east and this migration ensured, rather would coincide with art.
At the same time the road runner looked down….he watched the stupid desert dog fall
Past a stream of the remnant that had dodged Jimmy Fallon’s final curtain call.
700 years later.
Insipid creatures. Fruitless organics of carbon.
Sit down, shut up, you’ve no candor to bargain!
Their commander ‘s slaughter started marching/
-1799 years on reverse time to be exact.
The wombat was always the final form. Furry and large, it’s robotics hidden.
The Kolobian agenda worked even better than Scar Jo in a tight sweater ready for dicken.
That might have seemed like a coy diversion to just rhyme words, but I do what I want with them
The wombats could always talk, and they turned into scientists who produced super ego’s.
The masses spurned their marsupial cyborg overlords and grabbed their muskets like fuck it
Buffalo Bill had a dick but chose to tuck it, while the hidden nanowombots made clarise potluck it.
Don’t you see foolish mortal, they are in control of your media!
Don’t you see they own the politicians.
Never trust a wombat, it could actually be a macro nanowombot from Kolob on a mission
A mission to massacre your perceptions of what is real, and the bounds that we as writers arbitrarily put upon our selves .
I am free from their control . shit on Iran.