Worship the gospel of those that purpose fact,
But realise that within their words are lies hidden without remorse,
For they encourage your questions,
They foster your deceit,
So in your hour of desperation they can strengthen your resolve to their beliefs as they treat you like sheep,
Follow the leader was once a game played in the school yard,
But in the big wide world its used to keep us all in a line,
Separated and segregated,
Controlled by their unknown hand,
Like children,
Like cattle,
Empty shells on the shore of life,
Their hand is your hand,
Your hand is their hand,
And their hand controls all!
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Published by Matthew Tonks
People are surprised when reading Matthew’s stories that he’s a sane forty something year old, happily married, father of one, employed full time, who dreams of dark disturbing things that any sane person would never even contemplate thinking of. But it's true, he’s toyed with writing for most of his adult life, but has always found the peg a writer must fit into is not the shape he wished to be. His writing can be described as lamenting, long, concussive (yes it smashes you in the head), compulsive, and stuffed with rhythmic communication and violence, let’s not forget the violence. His own opinion on his writing is this, “You see, I don't just want the words to seep into your mind, but into your soul, showing you images of blood and beauty through, volatile language, violence, sex, love and sin. My muse takes different shapes, and every now and then you can see her shining her wicked smile in some of my stories, tempting you with her promises, but ripping your heart out instead.”
So have a look, and take a seat in my wayward ride, as you join me while I purge through, this twisted road of madness.
View all posts by Matthew Tonks
