TORTURE NEVER STOPS... (Thank you, Frank Zappa !)

REMEMBER: DON'T CAVE IN TO ANY IDIOTS, ESPECIALLY THE religious farts such as the ISLAMO-FASCISTS and other fishheads from various denominations!!! Did you know, we are nothing but a spermatic, cosmic co-incident? This site is dedicated to the members of the GIANT group - Global Idiots Accelerated News Tips. PLEASE VISIT/CLICK ON THE ARCHIVES (on the right side) FOR MORE OUTRAGEOUS, LIFESAVING MATERIAL...

Sunday, March 05, 2006

A poem written before this Cartoongate madness...

And their apologists

Drink that green tea
In which you’ve just drowned
Your own miraculous fish.
Swear to everything you didn’t have and never will
That you
Adore the smell of blood,
Especially when
Sticking to the walls.
Your virginal erection
Is wrestling with kidnapped legends.
Yes, go ahead put extra sand
Into your 1000+1 bodies mouth
And caress the serpent’s crescent.
You heard me right.
You can kill everybody, the whole world!
And then continue with
All those virgins up there
You didn’t have time to kill.
Yes, you and you,
Hiding behind
God’s dirty robes.
Lovers of cut-off heads
Haters of pets.
Wrapping your mama
Into a special delivery package;
Raping, beating, stabbing and cutting
Depending on what side
The prophetic wind blows
Through your teeth.
Your brains are on high poles,
Getting dry
From all that shit rammed down
Your illiterate nostrils,
Pious, pompous
Beam them up!
Up to another
Planet, star, meteorite or non-solar system.
Peaceful and Loving?
Just asked your own poets
Whom you
Roasted and served
On the Caliphate’s stolen plates.
Worshipers of infected god,
Borrowed from the other
Sun-burned minds,
Chewed and spat
On the reflective
Damascene steel.
Holiest than holy
DNA & TNT thieves
Beggar imitators,
Afraid of statues.
Somehow we all know how
Empty everything is.
How your childish martyrdom
Is nothing else but
A straw in a pig stale Purgatory
Leading to even more stinky Heaven.
Oh, I see! I’ve got it!
Is this what you wanted in the first place?
To reward your loved ones
With your gift-certificate intestine
Still full of shit,
Hanging from the severed head
Your brother and sister?
You have separated yourself
From the rest of us
No empty words
Will change that;
Not even the most
Ornate and delicious ones,
Bringing you to ecstasy and ancient delirium.
I bet you have not noticed that sign:
God slept here;
God died here.

NYC, September 2005


Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home