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8/6/2019 Darby Crash
http://slidepdf.com/reader/full/darby-crash 1/4
DARBY CRASH
(got me inspired centuries after his poetical death)
flow
8/6/2019 Darby Crash
http://slidepdf.com/reader/full/darby-crash 2/4
Born in the land of plenty… for what?
he was a prophet with the spirit
of a reptilian black panther.
He knew the time of the world
and measured his options very well
to drive the poisoned blood to an end.
Poet from the streets of liquid drug syringe
flowered it with the songs of rebellion
against an establishment of darkness
as reflected it in his chains and boots.
He never really needed nothing
cuz he knew… he was also a god
a lesser god among a prominent apocalypse.
Family of distress among his search for religions
brothers and sisters socially running on empty
how many songs more could then need to show a decline
of a whole western civilization of stirred souls
that purchased a non-return ticket
from oblivion to the self destruction of bloody cells
products of a movie of the few into deceived actions and greed.
8/6/2019 Darby Crash
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Boots of leather and dark sole hugged with chains
walking streets pregnant with the phlegm of empty nights
from bad intoxications in past lives
he came to pay a bill of incarnations
before he reborn again
as a Star Seed, clear about his next future.
How many needles visited his stirred soul
in order to heal those scars of bitches in the couch of his guts
he looked for love inside the wrongs of a generation
inside the internet chords of a lost link
but one thing was real…
the changes he imported
to the skin of our planet
to help in the metamorphoses
of an incomplete dream that searches perpetuity.
He is gone but his spirit still flies in circles
over the dirty streets of Richie Zippy Dagger
ever over dreams of forgotten hates
beyond the hopes of a friend in warm dances of love
at front the background of a new Cosmic Energy.
8/6/2019 Darby Crash
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Dragon lady -using his own words… in domesticated relationships
with the mad machine of the media blitz
out of the tunnels that he crossed before the hang
where the toll of right and wrong meet
inside the slow process of evolutions of empty videos
to save our souls or save his own,
cuz that creature in his back, never went away
he is the fall guy inside his truthful silence in quietness
living in a rectory of sin, like he said
against all currents of evil
throwing away himself to the crew for a poem
giving the established shoves to dig his tomb
searching alone for something unknown… then
but clear now in our times, from the occult verses of the suicide machine
that watched he dying with the cold smile of a
“one more down”… but she exploded.
Now lemme give you a little piece of forecast:
I’ll be with you in the thought beyond
where there is no more the power of the lords of the strings puppets
outside that house of fortune
with our dementia in the higher level
because, what we’ll do… won’t be any more… secret-secret.
FIN
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