INK

Sovereign Canvas

Sovereign victors of war paint pictures of fame...
Slaying in the name of Holy Scripture remains
When sustaining their reign is the real flame...
That flickers in the realms of their evil brain...

Glorified violence by titans of times gone by...
Immortalised by the licence of an Artistic eye
With lighting took straight from biblical skies...
The last supper of lives that have physically died...
That willingly tried for the King with his lies...
To win but got fried, now just decorate castles
Side by side hung with yesterdays battles
A test of faith, men leapt in faced with the barrels...
...of cannon, arrows, the challenge of famine
A ravenous rabble tryna tackle adversity...
Nervously wrapped in the shirt sleeves of uncertainty
Then splashes of burgundy, red flecks on the fabric...
Represent the dead sketched looking graphically tragic
The magic of War is death for the most
Etched, froze in a pose on show by the host...
That turned men ghosts, defending his hopes,
Commended by those befriending the throne
Intending to own, overthrowing the king
The next in the gallery of sin expressing his wins!

History repeats, the truth’s lies in the hallways...
...of castles in shadows, old châteaux wall space
Camo’d by ornate gilt frames and antiques...
Is the pain that was reached in the scenes we repeat.
A stylised2-D relief of what lies underneath
Brush strokes of crushed hopes that hide cries of grief

This December night rages to stop the warmth of the season
Like the North plotting treason into the Cali Valley of the Dolls
Even the ally stench fall victim creating the fourth night of pleading
But the reasoning of heat is a hostage in the galley in the walls
Being in the 20's didn't stop the community festivities
Giving temporal immunity to civility and punitive humility
James Brown cadences filled hearts like full hot chocolate mugs
Sugared kids fidgeting and murmuring in front of a shag carpet rug
An empty seat with the pleasantry of a home cook meal
Gleaming in the cheaply lit spotlight, in ghetto charm
Then a roaring "Ho Ho Ho" make those shook squeal
Continuing the melodic entrance with his falsetto warm
It was like the Superbowl Champs had came to make dreams
Take the rim of belief, proving truth can't change things
Or at least in those infantile eyes looking at the present time
Santa sits giving instruction to the waiting ears in line....

And they are happy, rattling on about impossible, expensive items
Santa giving them advice and fake promises to excite them
Parents claiming the responsibility of bringing Ole St. Nick here
Walking with pride on tilt, giving looks of new recognition
But off in the distance stands a girl who hate is clear
Waiting for digression to subside to her violent attrition
Her heart commissioned a hit that would clear paths of pain
Reverberating laugh strains and rearrange her normal lane
Making the straight and narrow curved around actions defiled
Evil guile smiles each step close as righteousness is exiled
4 kids from the moment, the elves give Santa a breather
Exiting to the parking lot, smoking the last of his cig's centimeters
A "Die Bitch!!" follows shots whizzing his furry brim
But Santa turns and deliver a gift that suspends her gluttonous grin......

Sirens and lights deck the halls of this folly
A note in her pocket reads "This St. Nick ain't so jolly....."