march your piggy  that was once a lamb,
into the land for the 30 breadcrumbs of judas,
march him in, and america and israel too,
march him in, the banker's  gold gilded flint,
march him in, and exile him from
europe that i might reclaim it!
march him in! march him shoulder
to shoulder left right left right!
i'll take pity over him like
pilate washing his hands: freed.
but i'm sure you'll make a crucible of
silver with his name, which i wouldn't,
i'm sure your child would reap
positive economic consequence
from his death, which i wouldn't,
and i would have my offspring slaughtered
in kinship to his death on the crucifix resembled,
as a quest for that thoughtless thing, the heart,
seeking honour.
i'll have you walk the pig snorkel of the flattened snout
till the lamb emerges... should circle encircle circle,
i'll watch you guide the last evolved jew
into the depths of the first devolved egyptian
readied to accept the pyramidal necrotemplum:
so you can tell me the football pitch wasn't the modern
coliseum with missed decapitated limbs but for worth
of ordeal kept sword axe and bow in a leathered sphere
kicked and headed in a stadium...
here, 2000 years or olive skin rule over the ivory skinned
ones of the north, take your crucifix worship
and i reveal the blood eagle as the ultimate suffering...
take your olive skin god, export him to the cinnamon skinned
indians... sell him there... i say this to you
may the northern wind warmed erase you into the depths
of your oared gold blackened with greed's revenue of
invoked reverse goad, as ***** lipped sons
as ******* daughters that were stances of forbidding
surahs of the prophet dead.