Antlers covered in the blood of another Who thought they could just slaughter In this holy place the beast and their own Have always known to be home, Entrails decorating sharpened bone like a crown, Hooves trudging through the blood That drips upon the ground, Eager to bring back another trophy So it could be mounted on the wall, But now their insides are mounted Upon a cervid’s head, the would-be killer forced to crawl…
Teeth clasp around the throat, On the blood, the bastard chokes, Several pairs of jaws from the pack Dismembering while the trespasser’s on their back Claws digging through the chest As the fucker’s laid to rest, Spilling guts while they eat, Life’s liquid leaves the body and slowly depletes, Dirt stained red, A potential killer dead, Jugular is leaking, Blood junkie no longer fiending…
Beaks peck at the sockets Of a scumbag with shells Nestled in their pockets, Slumped up against a trunk With the roots growing ‘round their ankles, Body long since having long been slumped, Food for the little ones that nibble at the flesh, Delighted to have food so fresh, Flora and fauna nourished by the dripping crimson, Having foiled another scumbag’s mission, Branches and bark having made their incisions, And those who don’t partake Gaze on appreciatively, for this specimen that tried to Walk among them was never, to them, ever great…
Wound up in a body bag All so you wouldn’t get Called a little fag, Riddled with holes like Swiss cheese, Bodies piled high As you beg, plead, and cry, Never again to see that home Who’s dick you were told to give a little dome, And here you are, dead from your desire to please…
Is this what you wanted?
Is this what you needed?
I guess not…
Destined from day one, Another doomed fuckin son, Told to be a slave And send some to the grave, Building up that hate, Fellating away (what’s so fucking great?), Yet couldn’t explain why They should all just die…
Because you knew nothin else…
Because they sold you into Hell…
This is what it’s like…
This they couldn’t hide…
Come on out here, boy, Go and get you some ol’ joy, Since this is your fight, Joining up, you know it’s right, Forget the things you’ll do And how they’ll ruin you, How you are not yourself, Compelled to feed an appetite that won’t Ever come close to being quelled…
Because the pressure was all too much…
Because your hopes and dreams they crushed…
Now you’re lying on the ground…
No one you loved is anywhere around…
Quench that never-ending thirst, To satisfy it, you are cursed, Except it will not leave, You’re granted no reprieve, Now your soul will go and burn Just like those kids (a death is what they earned)…
Every poison, every disease, every plague, whether it be liberalism, egalitarianism, democracy, socialism, capitalism, pacifism, rationalism, utopianism, totalism, statism, populism, substance abuse, collectivism, solidarity, is born out of its foul womb, a stench that reminds one of nauseating corpses left to fester in opulent wood carvings.
They claim that every other train of thought leads to death, reveres the reaper’s touch. Nay, I say it is not true at all. While we have great respect for Señor La Muerte, unlike the pissant filth that erects mosques, synagogues, and churches, for without death, there is no life, and that which dies lives om elsewhere, renewed and restored, for cosmic energy, matter, does not dissipate, we do not “worship” death. We love life. Greatly. We don’t run from it. Sure, it is suffering, it is pain, it is hate, it is war, it is strife and struggle and misery and setback after setback, disappointment after disappointment. Yet, it is also joy, it is also love, it is also beauty, it is also art, it is also greatness and glory and wonder and excitement, a bounty of treasures no gold, silver, platinum, or diamonds could ever hope to eclipse. We accept life as it is, for perfection shall not be the enemy of good. As accuser, I say that it is the Abrahamic scourge that hates life. Rejects it. They claim animals and plants are not nexions to the great Beyond, such a ludicrously false statement if I ever heard one, overtaken by Cartesian nonsense and Thomistic lies; rich coming from those whose souls are as dead as the meat in the market, and guilt trip humans into thinking that they must self-flagellate constantly, kept in a constant state of paranoia, fear, and loathing of everyone else, and especially themselves. That the soil, air, and water are mere “material” things, and do not speak their own language. Contain their own hidden truths, that which many will never understand. It scoffs at the idea of living, truly living. Not just existing, ad dead flesh walking. Their “life” is somewhere else. Not here. That’s why they stand idly by as their ilk are allowed to wreck it. Because they think life is ugly, and should be killed.
You know what I say to this? We should help them to their desired home. Send them to the putrid, pallid palace they grovel at the feet of. They’d be all the happier for it, wouldn’t they? They don’t want to live. They’ve come down with suicide ideation, but are in denial of it. There’s nothing more that an Abrahamic adores more than death.
Many think that we should tolerate them. It doesn’t look well when one persecutes the three biggest faiths in the world. While I don’t disagree with the idea, I should clarify what I happen to mean.
Their existence should be tolerated. That’s about it. They can be amongst their own kind. They can have their little communities. And as long as they leave us alone, then we shall let them be. But, for the love of all things worth loving, do not, under any circumstances, let them penetrate what it is we stand for. They are like communists. Once they get in, they’ll subvert it. And it will be ruined. Tainted. And they will be to blame. They’ll contaminate it under the many guises they take, the many masks and cloaks they don to still maintain and exert their influence upon the world.
Let it be understood, however, that war must be waged upon them. Upon their institutions. Their buildings. Their congregations. Their ideals. Viciously and savagely attacked. Ravaged. Like wolves annihilating a freshly caught bison carcass. In the ensuing collapse of the current order, they will have to be swept away. Which shouldn’t be all that hard, thankfully. Civilization facilitates this sort of nonsense. Perpetuates these scornful ideologies. Without nation-states and other such geists and phantoms, their nonsensical philosophies wouldn’t flourish. Not at all. They’d be relegated to certain regions, their cults festering amongst their own, a cruel cycle, clinging to their dead man on a stick, their martyr on a pike. Feebly clutching to carvings of that feeble joke of a human with a crown of thorns and an emaciated physique. Slaves to each other, as is their natural instinct, for they enjoy living on their hands and knees, heads facing the floor, beaten down and pulverized, so their infectious degeneracy wouldn’t be allowed to be master of anything except excrement, mountains of shit gathered together in human form.
A botched birth, a sick old man, a bleeding corpse, a disfigured cadaver, a puppet held up by desperate onlookers and pleading fools. That is all that would be left, I would imagine. Any attempted revivals should be snuffed out harshly, and swiftly.
And they’d enjoy it, wouldn’t they? They’d get their rapture. And as they’re trampled, they’ll get to go home, their real home.
A World In Flames 