The blockade before the blockbuster, this ain't no fake paid-off newspaper.
The reality is the power centers and the oligarchs prepare a slippery floor for the youth, to live a dogmatic life governed and directed by many a folly infused directors.
Take that little toy gun and shove it up your mouth and shoot it, considering how encamped the elderly seem to be on the "Future of the World."
The youth, who shall come for their pound of flesh, for all the torture and coercion by some "UNCLES" with a little experience in all the dirty work.
Somehow the uncles always bring "values, principles and culture" to the table, when you pursue things that make you happy.
Quite the repetition, I see with the UNCLE tribe, UNCLE Gang.
Looking at us with skepticism when all the drug dealing, prostitution and human trafficking is happening below the nostrils of the most benign and lamb looking UNCLE.
Nothing Legit, Nothing Legal, Nothing Praiseworthy.
Wannabe Mafia-Uncle.
// poetry
No real job in the world
Middle-aged goons with a gun
Some disproportionate gang upon one man,
From the baby faced do they shamefully run.
Hideous cowards with no real cause
Shoddy job at their Front Business do they do
The next Conquering Thug waiting for applause
They get spat out before they begin to chew.
The Gun is a spiritual downer
In the hand of a coward overtly physical
Coercive goons in a hierarchy of fools
Nothing but bullies with attempts so satirical.
This ain't no Bollywood complacency
Washing machine to tumble dry and clean blood money
Some little big boss, the face of lawlessness
Gangrene-infested scripts posing as intellectual honey.
The real movie is being made by me
On this Wardrobe of Visuals and Words
You can play with that little water gun by your side
While the Creator shoots you down like birds.
I'm a bloke with a free soul
Not a blunt knife with a gun
I reject all your bullish deals and coercion
Yes... this is the part where you run.