Seattle10 July 2011 at 5:45pmPosts: 41 (0 today)Status: offline
It stands to reason given the investment that the parochial savage made in prior brainwashing what would become traumaconic screams for help that something of that style was carefully researched and linked viciously to the impacted neuroplasm.
Zappa used to write these terribly insulting lyrics that he would speak behind his playing, and no one really understood them because of how loud he was, and he'd say those few who follow what he was on about are probaby furious and yes it's real Pittsburgh style torture tonight, then he'd slap his guitar quiet and sneer, "but you all love it, don't you?" and the crowd would erupt in cheers.
This is the nature of an English and its puke battalions. They torture a child, they leer and spit, they hired a hottie to derive a life that might be meaningful and then they poison the heart, the stomach, the bowels, repeatedly, they rape a deaf orphan girl and they say, but we're the Beatles, you're going to apology aren't you?
The Reagan Administration, acting in secret before coming to power, as they did during the assassination of JFK, wove a spiderweave of anti-communism through my father's house, who entered public service as an educator. The controlling concept was that such a man was a parasite. Julian Lennon's queers bought the parasite argument and advanced, under the banner of Elton John, Reagan's Holy War. This is known as the Great Backstab, the Beatles' betrayal of the AIDS Generation. They even validated a war game based on unprincipled lies in pursuit of Holy War, while defecating on a child mutilation trauma victim who went to unbearable lengths trying to get help for them. Here are two poems you may not have read from a bard who witnessed the great backstab.
the enemyÃ¢ï¿½ï¿½s sorrow was so beautiful
that I wept for fury knowing it elixirÃ¢ï¿½ï¿½s mask
I saw a thousand miles of kids standing still
for the crocus mowdown
the bellwhyte his bloody mailed fist of rings
a god and a master
gnarled with the teeth of the innocent
and he belched a malodor British laugh
of turpentine tears
the fanged remorse of goblins.
The measly poison of the English royal's sloven, wraithlike hand purred as it slank its touch of death and hate
towards poor, noble Bobby Sands.
Its English penis tongue stank with Japan thought it had it an offer he couldn't refuse,
as he blessed his walls
with the fecal heart of Ringo Starr.