Sex Lies & Babies

Born to folks with dodgy hormones,

 mummy fakes it with her whore-moans.

Daddy thinks he's Mr Rider, 

accidentally spunks inside her.

Another 'Fuck Trophy' joins the life/death cycle,

 "Congratulations, it's a boy" "We shall call him Michael".

Conceived by casual mind-numbing bonking,

 child in a state of wanting.

Mummy, Daddy have their limits,

 replace their love with plastic gimmicks.

Loss of lust leaves both folks lacking, 

Mummy, Daddy give Michael a smacking.

Motherhood leaving Mummy tired,

 Daddy with selfish desires.

Little Time For idle nookie, 

as Baby cries for his Chocolate cookies.

Bottled babies- neural derangement,

 titties are for Daddy's entertainment.

Mummy, Daddy live a lie with zero telepathy,

 baby cries a river no tears of ecstasy.

Rather than a nuclear family,

 a nuclear explosion kicks off, far from dandily.

Daddy goes crazy,sexually frustrated, 

his wife is now his wifey-belated.

Mummy no more gets her cheap thrills so,

 hooked on fake plastic, phallic drastic dildo's.

The Growing children are missing the guidance, 

on T.V. Is more sex, drugs & violence.

Fed-up with images dished out by the media, 

each generation, each year they get seedier.

Mummy & Daddy so uncool, unenlightened,

 so like a fool, kids act out just like 'em.

& if you ain't done it, by the age of consent,

 then you're either butt ugly, or you're Christian or you're 

bent.

The meaning of life- to hunt down the women, 

get them all drunk, set out for a 'killing'.

At a loss as what to do next for excitement, 

as life pursues, more perverse the enticement.

Your whole life purpose is to mate then to snuff it,

 what, that is all that we've been told, so fuck it.

All mating must be performed strictly in private,

 to bed a woman, you have to contrive it.

The sexual perversity we believe it is hidden,

 yet the energy of the whole show's masochism.

Naive in our thinking that kids born of this energy, 

shall not sink in the sorrow, rather magic a remedy.

Kids left to clear up the mess from our errors,

or else do as we do, 'cause we've convinced them we're clever.

Taught by our folks that somehow sex is naughty, 

and that your life is over once you approach around 4o.

By then body's falling apart & bits sagging,

 & the rest of your life, you'll be desperate & gagging.

Taking your clothes off, of course it is dirty, 

but it's your only calling until you hit 3o.

If by then you ain't got a man & a baby, 

you must be anti-life, Satan's pawn, or just crazy.

Your Genitalia, your scrotum, your ovaries,

 are your master glands, or else, you are nobody.

The true master glands are pineal, pituitary, 

kick started by true love, living green, sexual purity.

As children our play & expression is molded, 

so our natural essence, is never unfolded. 

We have been blinded by all who surround us, 

we Think sexual freedom means sex when it bounds us.

A web like a black widow spiders we get caught in, 

ties us in knots, every time we are courting.

We wont find the one when we ain't found the oneness,

 energy fragmented, dampened down into numbness.

Not a word uttered about cosmic awakening, 

our upper chakras are sadly forsakening.

Our mummy, our daddy, our culture and our peers, 

dictated by pussy without love, fueled by fear.

No-one to show us another way forward, 

everyone's inner voice is ignored 'cause it's awkward.

Each one of us knows we are dying too quickly,

 no space to grow inwardly, 'cause we're sickly.

Desperate to 'do it', 'cause we cannot be,

 long-lived, full of frolics, wild natured and free.

Afraid of expansion, of our experience deepening, 

so we place all our cards down below, 'cause we're weakening.

Fear of taking the response ability,

 to take in our hands our own life and our liberties.

A fear of being the one who takes action, 

rather live life like the rest, life by fractions.

Afraid of expressing our very uniqueness,

 & stepping outside of our shoes, digging deepest.

Afraid of the Earth, of our own vulnerability, 

of our delicate nature, our potential, infinity.

We are so afraid, that we're willing to fuck it, 

the bed we have laid on, which we made, kicks the bucket.

We are killing ourselves, every death is a suicide,

 yet the action it's self, makes us blind to the truth, the lies.

The sexual vibration of the whole of the Universe,

 runs through us, crown chakra to root, in this loony verse.

Our heart so wide open, when we love unconditionally,

 is like we're transparent, everywhere, no more bitterly.

Death culture may view it like you're sexually impotent,

 but the truth is each playing their own musical instrument.

Until now life has been black & white, blind to colours, 

for the first time we have gained our eye sight, love for 

brothers.

Before we've been crippled, inside a straight jacket,

 but now is the time, to rip open the packet,

& step into the beauty we're forever surrounded in,

 no more prisoners to the ball & chains we've been grounded 

in.

No longer addicted to the dopamine chase,

 no more self- inflicted, primitive human race.

An expansion that grows at the rate of the Cosmos,

 - a cosmos within, no more yearning, no love loss.

Letting go is like living through the process of dying,

 except the truth is far from it, when we do, we are flying.

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