Saturday, October 3, 2009

Christian Supplication List, Volume 1

In the Name of Our December 25

once again Jesus i have
stumbled into the pit
of an American Christmas.
the green gore and the red money,
the fake holly hector me,
leaving me singed and not toasty.
i would like to
enjoy these beatific holidays
but it is raining and these are
the End Times,
and i think i have a tumor behind my right eye.

there are also a number of other
small concerns that
keep me from rejoicing
in togetherness with the glad, hapless
race of cretins, consumptive cattle, and child molesters
that populate the land,
and whom you have
wisely placed all over the Earth
in positions of Power.
their gladness surely is attractive,
though i am equally sure they need alcohol to be pleasant,
and Cialis to rape their servants:

Of course you know
i sort of don't know if i'm waking or dreaming these days, Papa.
it may have taken me longer than others
to see that i am spinning through
time and space with no understanding,
pissing on myself like a puppy
in a state of mixed dread and happiness,
strangling on my own brain, my own tongue,
laughing atandwith others while
i struggle to love, gain approval,
and deceive us all in turn,
forced like a captive insurgent to observe
endless torture, sadism, rape and corruption,
this constant human mess-making.

it is not at all my fault
and you fucking well know it,
Omniscient One.
i resolve for the New Year to reject all blame,
all censure and criticism from
intellectuals, weaklings and club-footed moralists.
if i had achieved manhood
in 1955,
well before the scientific and existential revolutions that now
make a simple and decent life so preposterous,
then i should have no troubles
keeping track of things,
winking at problems, and carrying on,
like a good worker or manager.
but this is 2007, an age of
relentless lunacy, of violent silliness,
of pedophiliac buggery packaged as child care.

i have to wonder, then, why you don't share blame,
wherever you are,
if you hog all the credit and purpose,
fondling atoms and shit while
generally neglecting to relieve
even the slightest suffering
which your vast horde of cross-draggers
has sown throughout the world.

Jesus Christ, enough
with perspective, deliver us
from every person's particular slant on things.
Print life and make a mortal sin of cursive.

I'm tired of argument and stifling Egos
and the ideas of stupid people who
have been born lucky
and never outgrow the megalomania of infancy

lordy Christ
i see you forgot your shroud
when you beat it,
how forgetful.
you left us to fend off the Romans
and join in their many dirty circuses,
left us to depend on their debilitating, clean water,
their mindless Mammonism,
their inescapable phallic symbols and phallic logic,
and their deep-occult rituals,
which in our daftness
we no longer comprehend,
thank you ten thousand times,
Prince of Light and Truth.

will Ye please bless the vegetarians
this holiday,
for their refusal to join in the slaughter
of the ungulates and the fowl,
even the fish,
bless these holy soldiers
but smite them behind the ears,
for paying taxes and fealty to the Empire,
and worrying so much
about other species
when their own lacks
proper scrutiny and care.

Jesus will you pay a visit to Africa,
when you get a chance,
and help them smash the shackles of Anglo/Arab/Class/Tribal-hegemony,
will you send to them a scientist
brave and capable enough to prove
that man made AIDS, fausting away
in his laboratories for
the perfect depopulation mechanism
to use in that land
of precious minerals,
fuels and memories?
Jesus, have pity on the blacks for once.
People will begin to think
that, like so many other orthodox Jews,
you regard the negro
as an inferior, animal race,
and believe in the curse of Ham.

O Lord, will you call
upon your sea-monsters,
as in the old days,
and affix the largest and hungriest,
most terrifying
Serpent to the
mind of America,
bid it suck dry our stuffed,
nearly rusted-shut brains,
and make room in there for ethics and journalism,
and free enterprise guided by civics
and sober state planning?
I'm praying to you Lord.

Son of Man, will you add salt
to the cookies of the money-rich?
will you withhold from them
every cheap bauble that they pray for and covet
in their dementia,
and then rape their retirement plans
as they have raped ours;
will you play on them a dirty trick:
eternally rouse them from fatty, peaceful,
drugged slumber
with bloody phantom shrieks
that dissipate immediately like liberal guilt
and cause them a maddening, paranoid confusion...
looking about in terror
for the lower classes and their knives?
It is petty of me and mean
but it is all i ask...

i know, thou baffling, wiry old contrarian,
that you lack the fanbase, notoriety and weight
of Santa Klaus,
but see to it that i get some fucking
action figures this time around,
and the diamond bracelet
whose hints i have dropped
to my husband for the past two years,
on this fearful American christmas.

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