Poem for the Proles.
Oh Mr Dutton…
I`m the twisted smile in Bishops eyes
Your next contender, you despise
The end for you is very near
A dagger for your heart of fear…
You fail to see the wood from trees
Your psychosis is not harmony
Your noise is cacophony
I`m the man who sat in front of you
The Muslim you screamed as a Jew
You lie with frantic fervor
The truth is illusive
Your childhood was abusive?
Do you feel your own pain?
My name is Marx, I`m on to you
Your superficial Motley Crew
Will not survive the months ahead
Your ideology is indeed dead
So please step down now I ask
If not you face a huge task
For Marx will expose your lies
You cannot hide the truth with lies
DLATP will expose your filth
We have a lot of form
Our culture is not the norm
People before your hate!
The collective is your enemy
Your corporate greed is tyranny
Please oh faker, will you stand down?
Or do I have to use some force
Against your deadly black horse
You can not win this human game
Despite the way Murdoch frames
Your lies as truth…