Life = Death - volume 5 - Poems on Life , Death

ARTISTS VERSUS TYCOONS

Artists assimilated the vibrantly unfurling beauty of the atmosphere; majestically on the resplendent palette of their lives,

Tycoons traded the same in the spuriously stinking stock markets; savagely marauding their bountiful fragrance in the web of indescribably salacious savagery.

Artists inundated vivaciously enamoring color even in the most dolorously deadened entities; spawning a civilization of ravishing sensuousness on even the most obsoletely decaying step that they tread,
Tycoons ghastily buried live organisms into threadbare mud; erecting castles of their invidiously malicious wealth; upon unfathomably tyrannized blood and skull.

Artists wonderfully absorbed even the most infinitesimal iota of charismatic voluptuousness from the planet around; eternally making it the ravishing mascara of their philandering eyelashes,
Tycoons ruthlessly boiled the same in cauldrons of manipulative malice; beheading man and animal barbarically alike; to bombastically toast for their nocturnal delights.

Artists insurmountably titillated even the coffins of penalizing midnight; with the stupendously enchanting melody in their vividly wandering sounds,
Tycoons mercilessly invaded every speck of this gloriously palpitating Universe; with the overwhelmingly bizarre cacophony of lecherously crippling monotony.

Artists fulminated into an unsurpassable ocean of fantasy with every unveiling minute; tantalizing even the most alien mountains of absolution; with their
beautifully mesmerizing footsteps,
Tycoons fretted; fumed; made life an irascibly unforgiving hell for every entity around them; after stepping out of the realms of the dastardly superficial office.

Artists perpetuated a fathomless garden of spell binding fragrance on every single occasion that they exotically kissed mother earth; erupting into the flavor of timeless humanity for times immemorial; and with the consent of the Creator Divine,
Tycoons tirelessly slithered their way through the gutters of crucifying corruption; asphyxiating the breath of countless innocent; in their quest for reaching the epitome of baselessly empty supremacy.

Artists treated every organism alive as an unshakably ubiquitous paradise; profoundly saluting the scintillating path of compassionate righteousness in every heart throbbing with enamoring life,
Tycoons parasitically lambasted the diminutively poor; uxoriously licked the sordid feet of the domineeringly rich; in their never-ending hunger to posses the ludicrously white collar; for a countless more lifetimes.

Artists irrefutably believed in the sacrosanct cradle of beautiful proliferation; timelessly evolving a township of astoundingly redolent newness in every conceivable direction; that they cast their intoxicating eyes,
Tycoons deliberately impeded God's most cherished process of procreation; on the meaningless pretext that their palaces of sleazily glittering gold; would become a trifle too overcrowded.

And Artists perpetually worshipped nothing else but love; love and perennial love; bonding with its heavenly spirit to immortalize the spirit of ingratiating life on this boundlessly gregarious earth,
While tycoons insidiously broke hearts like a pack of soggy matchsticks; criminally philosophizing an insipidly emotionless environment; sanctimonious cigar smoke; raunchy vixen and wine; as the only mantra to forever survive.