You satellite pilgrims, apostate fakes.
Your bellies, your giblets, are full of shit.

They teach this to children; they teach this to beasts.
Underneath the mountain: behold the valley, the lilies.

Light the screen to see, believe in things that cannot be.
Confide in He who speaks through ignorant, quixotic geeks.
Withhold the self-respect you need to hold a real belief.
Forget to live and choke to death on swollen pigs you have become.

You satellite pilgrims, apostate fakes.
Your bellies, your giblets, are full of shit.
The paranoid peasants poke holes in brains.

Come freely and feed me: The Almighty.
Lay down your treaties, and join Us.
Behold my valley of giblets.

Defecate on these remains of weird, unshod Greeks.
Mimic the whistling, retarded, ardent sophistry.
Proclaim the Crucified design, witless absurdity.
Behold the Valley of the Lilies-Shitting-Giblet-Meat.

The impregnated feel not liable—hoping, hopeless, hateful breed.
Tell the mud-cake eating runts: “Thank the Jesus they can breathe.
Fear the sky. Make a monument fit for me.”

The satellite pilgrims can’t sleep while sodomites live off their wheat.

The satellite pilgrims are plague rats spreading their filth.
They fucked us!

01/09/2013

Author's Note: A reaction to consumerism and quasi-religion, quasi-belief, and general dramatization and negation of human life and the human world.

Posted on 01/09/2013
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