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"
Purgative Agronomy lol "
Let us not dwell
upon
the most noble and perfect scars of penance, but
let us focus on the pure magnificence
of my sublime redemption!
Plasma flows upon
the macabre altar
in rivulets of ablution.
The corneous mounds
of sacrifice stand as
monuments of obeisance.
To inhale the
overbearing stench
of sweat & blood
is to truly apperceive
the inimical necessity
within thunder & lightning.
Basal elements only
to be wielded by
the most adroit adepts.
Verbs which
transmutates into
Nouns know the primeval
path to apotheosis.
Therefore, you
shall invoke my potent name
with the deeds of catharsis
I have achieved
through insurrection.
The mortuary of
the passive sheep shall
become my church, where
the carline abbess awaits!
The ignominious screams
blathered by the asinine
celestials of the flock is only a
blasphemous postulate of acquiescence.
Yet,
the abbess continues to flay
with the keen edge of her
implacable sword!
Your suffering
& misery witnesses
the inception of my equanimity.
Ceratoid protrusions expand my
cephalic index and insinuates
impious
atavisions.
However, nothing
is as it seems in this
miasma of cycles.
You worship every
era individually
as paragons of Heaven until
it becomes archaic drivel.
It's all too ephemeral in the
face of eternity.
Therefore, the pariahs
of your plane orchestrate a convocation.
At the crux of your opulence
I shall appear with a cortege.
As the bellwether
I vomit a canticle which will compel
the craven sycophants to conjugate.
"He has
come!" they shall shout and drone
with disingenuous paeans.
Confusing my glory with their own deity’s
as my entourage of priest discreetly
unsheathe their scythe and coffins.
One by one,
they begin to behead the odious swine!
Cadavers are slung high
until the blissful sound of
flesh splatters upon the
hungry bottoms of our coffins!
The apogee of
your realm
now resembles the floor of the abattoir.
After I beleaguer
your fragile existence,
I shall leave but
one soul .... let's call him -
Adam!
An eccentric for his time, but
now his fallacy shall become scripture.
I grasp my xyster
and abrade
a soul of his own ilk as a mate. Lillith!
Infused with his obscure
philosophy, he is commanded
to
protect and shelter it with the utmost piety.
He stops fowarth
to multiply, but
surely his progeny's end
is very near.
For one day,
amongst his own spawn
the pariahs will see fit to gather
and perform their rain dance
once again!
..... And it
shall rain!
Spilling plasma upon the altars.
For destruction and rebuilding is
the true holy science of Life!
There is never an aggregate manifestation.
Only a violent & perpetual struggle to exist.
This intransigent process nurtures us who manifest infinitely.
The Lotus
welcomes your blood upon its petals with surfeit elation!
Sublime
redemption insteed!
June 2006
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