I hear you calling my name.
You almost had me already.
There is no shame.
Slow and steady.
You are not tame.
I come intrigued.
I see a dark figure.
Your words are egged and leave me fatigued.
You want to see a transfigure.
Though you are leagued.
There are plenty of you.
This is not your mind.
There is no breakthrough.
No way to bind.
This leaves me blue.
It should have been.
The grave is not the final destination.
The proof is my skin.
You will go through castration.
I can't help but grin.
The African Cartel has been on a "clean up" mission,
filled with stories of debauchery and extortion,
Their trails stretch from the streets of the Financial District
to families that are ivy leagued and filled with prestige,
Their goal is, an outrageous accumulation of wealth
to gain power and strength,
Their rackets include drugs, human trafficking and
kidnapping, to accomplish their missions they will stop at nothing!
From "shaking folks down" in the middle of broad daylight
to absconding with their family members in plain sight,
No one suspects, because they hide behind Burberry coats
and specs........,
But, if the powers that be reflect,
They will find that their cleverly master minded crimes have left
a long trail behind.
With Southern charm
He forged the hold
Of foreign gold
On town and farm.
He gave us two
Proud presidents—
No accidents--
Yet hid from view.
I guess he felt
That Wilson could
Be used, as should
Be Roosevelt.
He coached the game
To win us all:
The Federal
Reserve’s its name.
And he’s to thank
For nations leagued
And then intrigued
Behind One Bank.
You ask my source?
Read his own book,
A blood-bathed look
At rule by force.