Poetry by Youngblood Elixir
I like an Irish Goodbye
Better than a Noble Lie,
Heart between the blade and the chalice,
A generative phallus,
Walking erect,
Free DOM, Free Dominion I’m the only elect,
I elect myself as the sovereign of my land,
So motherfuck a shadowban,
Instead of experience the sea span,
Yall would rather watch C Span,
Talking about Greenland,
Instead of walking on Green Land,
These Talking Heads saying they going to make changes,
But “I’m Still Waiting,” Crosseyed and Painless.
Down on your knees, in the front there’s food to eat, in the back there’s a boner,
Don’t sleep, you’ll get fucked like Jimmy Saville’s a donor.
That line’s not fair, got your head spinning like Linda Blair,
“Cause the power of Chris Compels you.”
Got to point out these tyrannical hoes, while I exit like Derrick Broze.
I still retain the Starseed,
Testosterone got me naming the Yellow King,
That’s why these fucking bars bleeeeeeeeed. (Check out True Detective Season 1 if you don’t get it).
Jump into the fire like Henry Hill’s last day as a gangster,
Guns on top of the van but I’m still a Merry Prankster,
I’ll still stir the sauce at home,
Not helicopters all I see is Drone.
Videodrome, or a Dome to keep the cattle from roam, or better yet storming Rome
But no one notices or cares cause they wrapped up there in scares, not wanting to ascend the stairs, they just want to stare.
So I’ll go care in the real, not the desert but the feel, while tending to my field.
I want to exit the warm cave, the shadow I left bathed, the maiden who took but never gave back; I still laid.
Metaphysics ground up in a blizzard helped me become the white wizard,
Now I’ll roam like a B - 52 but keep the weapon sheathed, sticking to the creed,
Mike’s will get grabbed, staging raging like a CNN Saudi invasion,
Ditch the digi, bout to have fun,
Uprising like Bob Marley stretching for an early run,
Cause we don’t know what’s real or what’s fake; like Rick Deckard,
If I start my own label it will be called Akashik Records.
I’ll turn the wool over our eyes porous,
Blood soaked written notebook specially ordered from the Amazon Forest
Exit the wounds but like the wombs I’ve entered this year,
Leave em coming when I exit, so quick they won’t shed a tear.
I like an Irish Goodbye,
Better than a Noble Lie.
