Upon circumcision
The father threw his foreskin
Into a freezing salty lake
In the hope that his progeny’s promiscuity
Like father like son
Will bring contraception,
And no pox
To scar a conquering past.
And though snoring is done
It is no good for the soul
For it leaves but must stay
Stays but must leave
And by what passageway?
Out through the mouth
Or in through the nose
Or be lateral and do both.
His feet will never touch the ground
His hair and nails are rarely cut
The sun is unworthy of warming him
Rains come
When he is relaxed upon his throne,
His eating implements are for him alone
He is friendless and retired
And too great to be admired.
Misfortunes that befall the world
May be put down to
The fetishes and taboos
Associated with the sea
Where none must gaze upon it
Nor bathe nor swim,
And to fish from it
Is to draw up hatred.
When a person falls asleep
The soul leaves for a time
And the person is spiritually dead,
For the soul becomes a thing
That seeks and inhabits dreams
Until it is caught by light
And it returns through skin
To rejoin the person waking.
A True priest of the Jesus Christ
Is akin to The Holy Milkman
Who is therefore celibate,
And whose lips will touch no other
And who wears a flimsy garment
And who sleeps out of doors
And who is first to tackle Demons
And who rises after the dead.
A homicidal maniac
Who suffers epileptic fits
And is manic one minute
Depressed the next
Is revered by Extremists
As one who is their shadow,
When vengeance is needed
The maniac is their likely hero.
The soul that departs the corpse
Is exactly as the body
In features and proportions
Two bodies as one
And weightless it leaves
The body to infinite lifelessness;
This is Death
In the language of Savagery.
So that Australia may prosper
And no sorrow befall it,
The Prime Minister must not
Attend horse races on Fridays
Toss a two up coin left handed
Eat a snag whilst talking
Wear a blue collared business shirt
Favour Holdens over Fords.
The General Manager of Business
Attained the position thus;
At lunchtime in the canteen
Witnesses by all staff
On Boxing Day morn
The GM fights every pretender
To the lofty throne
Until just one thereafter stands.
For this particular god
Who walks unknown amongst the people
Special words describing his behaviour
Are made only for him;
Thus words for when he eats and sleeps
And fornicates and defecates
Are unique and separate him
From the peoples of the world.
Rock Stars believe
They are the reincarnates of Krishna
Making believe to women
That by carnally joining with them
Women will enjoy the highest bliss
Since Rock Stars are divine,
And the women make believe to Krishna
That their passions are truly sacred.
When American housewives
Have had enough of pooey nappies
And other domestic disquietudes
They are said to have a holy spirit
Invade them,
And very soon their husbands are in adoration
And they are no longer wife
But a Queen to them.
A mutual worshipping society
Was formed
By a Christian sect
Who believe that each member to be a god
Exclusively mingling amongst their fellows,
Jesus amongst Jesus’
The Trinity amongst trinities
Gods the Father the Son and the Holy Ghost.
In a remote corner of the globe
The shepherd is revered as a deity
And none may touch the shepherd
Except another,
And all must worship the shepherd
As they worship the sun
Since together they are
The life givers.
A woman outrageously attired
Believed she was integral to the Godhead
And had men follow her,
And upon communion with divinity
They shed their clothes
And naked they walked the world
Until arrested and institutionalised
And they died joyful and cheery.
A new Messiah will be recognised
For he will speak in all languages
And he will live in Roman opulence,
The one who is to pronounce doom
For all those who do not repent
And seek his forgiveness
For he will be none other
Than the Saviour of Mankind.
Only by force shall dissent be suppressed
The force of time and history
The force of repeated words
The force of weaponry,
So that truth is gouged out from rock
Carved and made art
And placed upon a pedestal
A likeness to something.There was born a child
Who when asked
Knows the habits of the President
Where the President lives
How many advisors the President has
What the current foreign policy is
What the unemployment figures are,
And when it will be President.
Only the Sun rules,
Over the seas and lands of Earth
Over all nations
Over creatures’ great and small
The orbs and miasma its rays strike
The void within its sweep
The shades that alternate
Between darkness and light.
The King of Rain
Has the belly of a Zeppelin
Believed to carry heavy storms
That will erupt each spring
Upon gifts from the farmers,
And they will rip his belly open
If it doesn’t rain
And the King dislikes their gifts.
Only Sacred Kings
Do not die a natural death
When thinking of Jesus and Kennedy
And Caesar as another,
For their reputations
Would be lowered
If their extraordinary lives
Ended ordinarily.
Olympic swimmers
Famous for their gold won
Famous for their endurance
Who, upon birth
Had their severed birth cords
Cast upon raging seas
In the belief
They would become great competitors.
His insults has travelled the world
As an internet virus,
And the hurt shan’t be healed
Until dandruff flurries from out
The head of the sorry insulter
And his words floating in cyberspace
Are neutralised
By soaping the sorry wounder’s mouth.
The car that injured a pedestrian
Was soon quarantined
And washed inside and out
Fully serviced and tuned
Its warranty renewed,
And it is expected
The pedestrian’s injuries
Will naturally heal.
To wound a suburban person
Who is your enemy
Is by finding shoe prints on pathways
Tyre marks on highways
Impregnating them with your curses
And inserting sharp objects,
And soon that person will be lame
Their SUV impounded.
Through the Botanical Gardens she walks
And the man who loves her from afar
Gathers after her footprints the soils
And places them in a terracotta pot,
And in the pot there grows
A single white rose
Its petals that will only fade
Should his distant love for her.
The ancient worship of trees
Replaced by the modern use of trees
Replaced by the preservation of trees
Replaced by the mass felling of trees
Replaced by the modern worship of trees,
And then there was only one
Drooping and withering
Panicking the people into loving it.
Remarkably for Great Forests
They are not merely atoms and molecules
Water and bark;
They are inhabited by supernatural beings
Which come from rains and winds and fires
Above
And from clays and soils and silts
Below.
It might remain a custom still
For couples to make love
Beneath a billowing tree,
For if they make love
On the East side
They will bring into the world a boy
And on the West side
To the world a girl.
And to this moment has come
Enlightenment
After long generations
Had passed on their beliefs
To their brainwashed
That their god exists,
As it is new minds are wary
For life speaks through bad seed.
And the Chairman in an Armani suit
Upon the draft Prospectus entering him
Became violently disturbed
In a most astonishing frenzy
Convulsing and distorting his features
Rolling about in the Boardroom,
And to shareholders the board members
Shall soon reveal their Dividends.
The crippling from Christian faith
May be reversed
If a Catholic priest bedazzled by Satan
Recites Eucharist prayers backwards
Drinks the urine of one unbaptised
Crosses the chest with the left hand
And dryly solemnises a Black Host,
At the midnight hour in a ruined church.
To stop Economists making prophetic failures
They are set around in a circle
Within it lay a bleeding corpse,
And at a given signal
The Economists rush at the body
And engorge on the corpse’s entrails
And satiated in front of their computers
They prophecy the future once again.
Life struggles to have meaning
If there needs be a heaven
To house the souls of the dead
For loss is too great
To imagine
That there is nothing beyond death,
And to be sure of this
Religious faith subverts.
The Oracle of Lung Cancer
Each year is heard to scream
And enter into violent spasms,
Whereupon the inhaling
Of the Smoke of a Million Cigarettes
Is said the put the Oracle in a trance
And thus predict the outcome
Of the addict’s inhalations.
Corporations each have a god
To whom sacrifices are made
Some of which are macabre
Like the head down hanging janitor
Like the drawn and quartered clerk
Like the beheading of the tea lady,
For these gods are like men
With supernatural powers over all.
There is trust in the venerated woman
Who will stand by flowing waters
And listen to their murmurs and sighs,
Taking comfort from what she hears
She will stand before all her men
And call them to rationality
When they bellow their disagreements
Giving ground instead of causing blood.
Not much is left of their God
When the eyes the ears
The senses that feed one’s brief being
With the fruits of living
Landscape and the weather
Friends and all that uplifts one
Is enough,
More than enough.
At an end of financial year tribute to the Analyst
A chosen employee
Would dance naked before the bosses and staff
For five hours
To the charivari of heavy metal music,
Crouching then jumping like a monkey
Demonstrating the Analyst’s
Physical strength and mental agility.
The extracted truth
Placed in an unwatered dish
Will mean the person
Who gave it
Has had their will submit
To the disease of torture,
For toxic air
Favours the oppressor.
Her heart passed through the hands
Of her mother
And her mother’s mother
And her mother’s mother’s mother
And it was not tainted
By disappointment
When returned to her,
And she will be ready for love.
As the soldier walked past an IED
His young soul was burned
For his uniform
Manufactured back in his homeland
Was an effigy
Designed for his enemies
Who remain unknown,
To others and to themselves.
She bore his stomach cancer
By ingesting grapefruits
Whole and mashed
And passing the remains
Through her tracts,
So that her brother
Dying in the next room
Might yet be saved.
And they stripped the politician naked
And clothed him
In tracksuit daks and t-shirt
And for a time
He pretended he was ordinary
And one of the people,
Then a sorcerer revived him
And he was dead no more.
Around the totem of the dollar
Dance men and women
Singing revolutionary songs,
For abundance
Does not come without struggle
Nor without the trust
Of those unbelievers
Who do not dance for more.
When the green effigy says go
Pedestrians should walk straight
And not amble
Lest the course
Of their lives
Arrests,
And the future of their dreams
Baulks and turns back.
Should the native bird
In the hunter’s sights
Clasp together its claws
In mid flight,
The hunter might turn away
Cross his arms
And cross his legs
And cross his gun with providence.
For the righteous armies to succeed
In the deserts of the Middle East
Their leaders must be motionless
In their castles,
For if they move
The turbulence of the deserts
Will rise
And their grunts will be destroyed.
As is a custom of Old Capitalism,
The poor on a given festival day
Will discard their rags
In favour of the attire of the wealthy
To then go around the streets
Mocking and abusing whoever they meet
And giving vent
To their natural frustrations.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, you might like to return to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase a copy for yourself. Thank you for respecting the work of the author.
Smashwords edition copyright B F Moloney 2013
