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Newsgroups: alt.philosophy, alt.arts.poetry.comments, alt.poetry, rec.arts.poems, rec.arts.movies.past-films
From: galathaea <galath...@gmail.com>
Date: 27 Apr 2007 17:39:08 -0700
Local: Fri, Apr 27 2007 8:39 pm
Subject: the scar (sirblob's 6,923rd poem of the year, ghostwritten as per tradition)
I am no feeble Christ, not me
He hangs in glib delight upon his cross, upon his cross, Above my body, lowly me Christ forgive, forgive? Holy He, He holy, He holy? Shit He forgives, Forgive? Forgive? I? I? Me? I? I vomit for you Jesu Christy Christus Puke upon your papal throne Wrapped I am in the muddy cloud Of hellish genocide Petulant child I have suffered for you Where you have never known me I too must die Will you be shadowed in the arrogance of my death? Your valley truth What light pass those pious heights? What passing bells for these in their trucks? For you lord. You are the flag-bearer of these nations One against the other that die in the mud No piety. No deity Is that your forgiveness? Saint. Martyr. Goat. Billy. Forgive? Shit he forgives He hangs upon his cross In self-righteous judgment Hangs in crucified delight Nailed to the extent of His vision His cross. His manhood. His violence. Guilt. Sin. He would nail my body upon his cross As if I might have waited for him in the garden As if I might have perfumed His body Washed those bloody feet This woman that he seeks Suicide visionary. Death reveller. Rake. Rapist. Gravedigger. Earthmover. Lifefucker. Jesu. You scooped the pits of Auschwitz The soil of Treblinka is rich in your guilt The sorrow of your tradition Your stupid humility is the crown of thorn we all must wear. For you. Ha. Master. Master of gore. Enigma. Stigma. Stigmata. Errata. Eraser. The cross is the mast of our oppression. You fly there, vain flag. You carry it, wear it on your back, Lord. Your back. Enola is your gaiety. Suffer little children (to come unto me) Suffer in that horror. Hirohorror. Hirrohiro. Hiroshimmer. Shimmerhiro. Hiroshima. Hiroshima. Hiroshima. Hiroshima. The bodies are your delight The incandescent flame is the spirit of it They come to you Jesu. To you The nails are the only trinity Hold them in your corpsey gracelessness The image that I have had to suffer These nails at my temple The cross is the virgin body of womanhood That you defile In your guilt you turn your back Nailed to that body Lame-arse Jesus calls me sister There are no words for my contempt Every woman is a cross in His filthy theology He turns His back on me in His fear His vain delight is that pain I bear Alone He hangs. His choice. His choice Alone. Alone. His voice. His voice He shares nothing, this Christ Sterile. Impotent. Fucklove prophet of death He is the ultimate pornography He. He. Hear us Jesus You sigh alone in your cockfear You lie alone in your cuntfear. You cry alone in your womanfear. You die alone in you manfear. Alone Jesu, alone In your cockfear. Cuntfear. Womanfear. Manfear. Alone in your fear. Alone in your fear. Alone in your fear. Your fear. Your fear. Your fear. Your fear. Your fear. Your fear. Your fear. Warfare. Warfare. Warfare. Warfare. Warfare. Jesus died for his own sins. Not mine. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- You must Sign in before you can post messages.
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