TERMINAL HIEROPHANTIASIS (revisited)

we bow our heads in unison & listen

to benisons in latin as we

sit on satin cushions

in silence

with violent visions

of serpents & surplices &

sacred bullocks & cassocks & castration

casting lustral pearls

at lugubrious swine

that wallow in goodswill

on the dunghill of time

popping corn & copping porn

pages from hoary wisdom torn:

O HEAVENLY FATHOPE

GRUNT UNTO US

IN THIS THE HOUR OF OUR SORDID GREED

WE PLEAD WITH BEADS OF GRUBBY CREED

IN CHUBBY FINGERS

from the foulpit to the pulpit

of the chosen pew

we send forth solemn nostrums from the rostrum

to our beloved token jew

FORGIVE US OUR FOREFATHERS' FORESKINS

AND GIVE US THIS DAY A DULL RAP ON THE SKULL CAP

OR SOME CLAP TRAP

oh we think we know we see

whom & how & whatsoever we should be

for all is ultimately

part & parson of

immortality

(so help me)

wherefore this common porridge:

this grim & gruelling gravy

in which organisms sink or swim

suspended in acute & minute animation

doomed to drink & be drunk &

perchance be merry or to suffer

indigestion &/or

indigestibility?

BY THE MONAD'S GONADS,

ANSWER ME!


we bow our heads

over supper sipping soup

but does it really matter

if tablemanners are observed

or if slurping sounds delicious?

after all the tiny whiny citizens

aswoon or aswirl in their own dire mansions

in our soupy microcosm

are also busy bowing pious little heads

over teeny weeny bowls of

perfect beans...

And be it so.

Antares © 1969/1985

AND NOW LISTEN TO THE SOUNDTRACK, FOLKS!

[First posted 24 March 2009, reposted 4 December 2014 & 27 May 2016]