Untitled for none is deserved.
http://www.nytimes.com/2013/01/02/world/asia/pakistani-militants-gun-down-7-aid-workers.html?hp
Bended knees self-sanctify bloodied ground,
sneering, silent thunder slaps my face,
Those Who Dare Call Themselves Gods,
chuckling at all they have wrought,
murderous, heinous, hateful.
Who is the reprehensible abomination,
us or them,
and their devoted servants
who **** "freely" in their name?
Ennobling man with faculty infinite,
then tempting/torturing, obstacling him
from its fullest usage, lest we recognize,
the imperfection of their sloppy design.
If free will is a gift,
I freely regift it back to them.
Some venerate Mother,
after killing their wives and daughters and
mothers,
laughing about it in
the whorehouses of their souls
What a piece of work are these Gods!
If man is the quintessence of the Gods,
their last, best creation before resting,
are they themselves not corrupted?
So called Gods,
pillory the New York City morn dawn,
a pallor hard-grey nothingness.
a bitter kiss, from things only they control,
a greeting card from on high,
happy new year wishes from
Newtown, Delhi, Peshawar,
and Jerusalem.
At last, I comprehend,
why we minioned millions
celebrate this day with drunken reverie.
---
Jan. 1, 2013
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 3:39 PM UTC
Untitled for none is deserved.
http://www.nytimes.com/2013/01/02/world/asia/pakistani-militants-gun-down-7-aid-workers.html?hp
Bended knees self-sanctify bloodied ground,
sneering, silent thunder slaps my face,
Those Who Dare Call Themselves Gods,
chuckling at all they have wrought,
murderous, heinous, hateful.
Who is the reprehensible abomination,
us or them,
and their devoted servants
who **** "freely" in their name?
Ennobling man with faculty infinite,
then tempting/torturing, obstacling him
from its fullest usage, lest we recognize,
the imperfection of their sloppy design.
If free will is a gift,
I freely regift it back to them.
Some venerate Mother,
after killing their wives and daughters and
mothers,
laughing about it in
the whorehouses of their souls
What a piece of work are these Gods!
If man is the quintessence of the Gods,
their last, best creation before resting,
are they themselves not corrupted?
So called Gods,
pillory the New York City morn dawn,
a pallor hard-grey nothingness.
a bitter kiss, from things only they control,
a greeting card from on high,
happy new year wishes from
Newtown, Delhi, Peshawar,
and Jerusalem.
At last, I comprehend,
why we minioned millions
celebrate this day with drunken reverie.
---
Jan. 1, 2013
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