Sunday, June 29, 2008

We are all orphans...

[There is no internet where I be until after the 8th of July.

Until I get back, I leave you all with a small but somewhat convoluted essay penned by Elmer Eggplant, that incorrigible iconoclast, philosopher, autodidact theologian and critic of religion in the Third Galaxy which he referred to as the "Godbiz". Here, Elmer gets his dander up here about "faith" as compared to "belief".

For those of you not acquainted with the religions of the Third Galaxy, those known as "single 'tater" religions (mainly the Peelers, Mashers, Strugs and the Seeks) all teach that there is but a single deity they call the "Great Potato". Here begins Elmer Eggplant's essay]

The dominant religion in Arrogance, that of the Peelers, takes as revealed truth and fact that "salvation" only comes through Holy Idaho, the only besprouted Spud of the Great Potato. In order for the salvation thing to work, the Great Potato arranged for the sacrifice of His Only Spud, Idaho, who was "peeled", a gruesome form of execution used by the rulers of the Roamin Empire. On the third day, the lid of the garbage can blew off and Holy Idaho, His peelings intact appeared in all his glory and promised to Return one day and take his followers up to live with him in the Great Colander in the Sky -- from this came the name of the religion: "Peelers".

When I was a kid growing up in Poosah City, I remember seeing "Did you go to church last Sunday?" printed in letters 5 inches high on the benches at bus stops as well as giant billboards along the highway proclaiming, "Holy Idaho Saves!!!". People would sometimes demand to know, "Are you saved?", "Are you a Peeler?", "Have you accepted Holy Idaho as your Personal Savior?". That's how it was sometimes back in the Poosah City of my youth.

It's rather bizarre -- imagine if I went up to people and asked "Do you believe in sex?" or "What kind of orgasms do you have?" I would certainly deserve the negative reactions I would most likely get.

Similarly, people who think they are "spreading the word", deserve the comments they get. However, I know they take it upon themselves as a little martyrdom and ascribe the profanity they sometimes hear to "evil spirits".

As a matter of fact, back in those days in Poosah City, people were a hundred times less likely to ask or talk about sex than come on to you about religion. What passed for sex education back then could be summed up in the single phrase: "Boys have god-sticks and girls have shame caves."

What I am driving at is that, just as human sexuality is an expression of deep, intimate needs or drives, human religiosity is an expression of deep, intimate needs or drives -- in the latter case, the need or drive is to find meaning.

Where there is no meaning there is no hope and where there is no hope there is nothing but despair. To slightly misquote Dante: on the iron gates of hell, letters writ in barbed wire read, "Despair all ye who enter here!"

The function or "purpose" of religion is to bring meaning into an often chaotic existence. That said, religion(s) neither have nor give meaning in themselves. They are tools which, through rituals, sacraments, prayers and such, can help the practitioners of a religion to find or experience meaning in their daily lives. That is no small thing -- the wilderness out of which we evolved is a frightening place...

However, any tool can be misused and the sharper the instrument the more harm it can cause...

I have had the good fortune to spend most of my adult life in the Happy Little Kingdom. In their language they have a single word, "tro" which covers the meaning of at least two words in the language of Arrogance: "belief" and "faith". The word "tro" is also seen in our language as "truth" and "betrothal".
Having thought about this for a while, perhaps too much, I have concluded that one should distinguish more sharply between belief and faith than is commonly done.

For example, does a small child believe in the love of its parents? No! The child has faith that their love will be there. Or, in the Book of the Holy Idaho, Marc 17:20, where it is said, "Because the mustard seed has faith, it can grow into something so large that the birds of the air can sit in its branches..." The obvious corollary is that íf the seed only "believed" it could grow, it would quickly wilt and wither away...

Distinguish between belief and faith in this manner: Belief is generally quantitative, whereas faith is qualitative. That is to say, beliefs can be counted, but faith, if it can be measured at all, is measured by its strength.

Being a cantankerous old coot, I maintain that too many beliefs can be a sign of lacking or weakened faith. Beliefs have been behind some of the ugliest things people have imposed upon their fellow humans. I can't think of an instance that faith has ever engendered harm -- on the contrary!

All religions are human creations distilled from human experiences. That is to say, they have not been revealed -- that is, except in the sense that every thing in the manifest universe is imbued with the possibility of revealing ever deeper insights into the subtle nature of the underlying reality of What-Is as it unfolds into our experience of life.

None of the sacred or canonized texts were dictated by the "Great Potato" to "His prophets". No prophet in any literal sense was chosen and/or was called by Someone in the Great Colander" in the sky. The notion that any of these texts are infallible and immutable is not only ridiculous, it is dangerous and has been the source of much evil and human suffering.

If, for the sake of argument, I accepted that these guys were prophets in the sense it commonly understood, I'd have to say, "So? Does that mean that the misconceptions which spring forth in your mind like weeds when you read your prophets words have the same revelatory validity?"

For example, Masher, the founder of the Masher religion, supposedly read the Eternal Book. He is known as the "last and greatest of the prophets" and the transcriptions of his spoken words, The Reading, is sacred to the more than a billion Mashers with whom we share this poor world.

However, this Eternal Book, assuming its existence and that a mortal could read it, by its very nature, would present different readings according to the time, place and culture in which it was read -- and that is not even taking into account the personality of the reader. Such a book, being eternal, needs also be trans-dimensional -- but the reader of the printed transcriptions of the spoken word are mortal, which means their comprehension is limited by time and space.

If anyone has ever heard the word of the Great Potato, that would mean that we are all prophets -- because the Great Potato speaks to us all! True most don't listen, on the other hand those who do listen will to some degree have beans in their ears and be hearing echoes of their own mind. No religious message is absolute in itself.

From the little we know today of how the manifest universe developed over billions of years with the formation of galaxies, stars and planets; how, out of chaotic plasma and cataclysmic explosions, all the elements formed, including carbon with its amazing chemistry.

From the little we know of how life evolved on at least this planet, it seems that there is no way that life could not have begun, not only on this but on many other planets. Furthermore, it would appear to the observer that life has an innate tendency to develop sentience, then conscious awareness and, finally what Teilhard called "Point Omega".

Knowing all of this, which I admit is very little, I can't help having a very strong feeling that all of the religions are approximations of infinity of What-Is. That is why it is not practical to compare religions, in the sense of saying that this one is a "better" or "closer" or a more true approximation.

The reasoning for this is twofold.

First, the "angle" of each religion is, to some degree, unique to itself. Comparing religions is like comparing oranges and apples. Second, the approximation of a religion's "revelation" is, by definition, in relation to an unimaginable infinity.

Can we measure one approximation as being closer that another to an infinity on the order of the "Reality of What-Is"? I think not!

So, to sum it all up: I could not with a clear conscience say, "I believe in Holy Idaho" -- it would make as much sense to me to say, "I believe in Shoe".

I might be able to say, "I have faith in Holy Idaho", but I would feel more comfortable saying, "I have faith in Reality", or "I have faith in What-Is" -- but even then I'd feel kind of silly.

If you are comfortable with the religious tradition handed down to you and its practice fill your life with faith and meaning -- go for it! But please don't use the tenets of your religion to, so to speak, cut your neighbors' throat...

We are all orphans trying to find our way back to a home we have never known and parents we have never seen.

Friday, June 27, 2008

15. The Desolation Before Us...

[In all the other coronas composed by the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy, the concluding, 14th stanza is always followed by a denouement in a 15th poem having a thematic relation to the corona itself.

This is not the case with "Our Common Insanity" -- however, I believe that I have found in the 2nd level footnotes to the Absolute Truth, 21st Edition a poem he intended as a denouement, "The Desolation Before Us". Just as the William Blake of our world omitted "A Divine Image" from his "Songs", he found the poetic vision of "Desolation" too dark.

My opinion is that both Sweet William and the unknown poet were in error. Whether my opinion is mistaken is something my colleagues who also research the Absolute Truth will have to decide. It is a fact, though, that "Desolation" is extremely dark and bitter. It has a vague resemblance to the kvad form which the unknown poet experimented with now and then, with varying success and is written in several voices. Thematically, it is very close to "Ghosts Who Wraith", including the refererence to the Question.]

With the desolations before us now,
and the ruins of the great glory which was
once ours not so long ago -- how?
How could it have happened and what was the cause?

Such questions as these must be asked for sure,
but the answers may be hard for us all to hear.
On the other hand, we'll never find a cure
if we once again give away to our fears...

The fact is that we are orphans you see,
who were lost in a Wilderness of Time.

It all began when we fell from a tree,
and having lost the ability to climb,
began to make up stories about
"Mom" and "Dad" and the great times they had:

"Mommy! Daddy!", we often shout.
We hear answers sometimes and they're rather sad!

"Do you belive in 'Gawd' they asked me once.
"Spare me your idol talk", I replied.
Did I change my mind when they cut out my tongue?
I forget because, soon afterwards, I died.

The wars we've fought over religion,
over land and natural resources
and over the access to fertile women...
It was all a hill of beans, of course.

Somewhere, along the way we forgot
the important thing, the eternal Question,
"What is it all really about?",
and so, this is how it finally ended:

On the evening news one dreadful day,
between the mudlines the speakers said,
as flags waved and martial music played:

"Our enemies will all soon be dead!
The decision has been made by the powers that be!
We will attack them with all that we've got,
early tomororrow at a quarter past three,
our frontline commandos will fire the first shots!"

"We will win this war in a day or two,
returning home within a week at the most!
Our rewards will be great and our casualties few!
Our fires will turn the enemy to toast!"

But the war, it lasted longer than a week.
Far, far longer than that...

The bombs dropped like rain and wreaked
so much death that rivers of melted fat
flowed down the streets of empty stone.

A Terrible Time of Sorrow it was
with monsters sucking soul from bone!

Once again we wondered, "How did it happen,
and what was the cause?"

Indeed, what was the cause?

Perhaps is was when we forgot
the roots of our common humanity
which then mutated into a common insanity!

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

14. When We Awaken...

["And so, dear hearts, we reach the conclusion of our little journey and close the ring of the corona with the first line of the poem we started with a little more than a month ago -- indeed, I had no idea where it would lead, no more than my reader." -- the note the unknown poet prefaced the final stanza of his "Our Common Insanity" corona.]

As we slip into our common insanity,
with a soldier of darkness and a prince of peace;
ís there anything from the hand of a man you can trust
and what of that "Bright City of Light Upon the Hill"?

"When we get home, I wonder, what kind of future we'll face?"
"We're counting to three and then you better run!"
"Not snake-eyes again! Quick roll the dice!"

What is it, deep down, that we're afraid to mention:
That the "Lord" we serve rules a kingdom of death?

When the wounded heart, so long denied, reappears
behind a pack of lies and flatulence,
is it then we'll hear the Fenris' gutteral cough?

War has become greater than Pestilence!

When we awaken, will we hear dogs barking..?

I haven't found that he mentions it anywhere, but note that he makes use of another device. He doesn't simply repeat the lines, but tweaks them in small ways, somewhat changing their meaning.

Finally, please note that he started with barking, but ends his journey with an odd question:

"When we awaken, will we hear dogs barking?"

Monday, June 23, 2008

13. Our Common Insanity

[And so, we reach the the final poem in the unknown poet's corona. That is, before the climax, which closes the ring by repeating the final lines of the preceding thirteeen poems along with the first line of the first poem.

It is worth repeating here that, according to his own remarks I've found in 2nd level footnotes to the Absolute Truth, 21st Edition, the unkown poet usually had no idea where the words would lead when he started with the first line of a poem -- or for that matter, even if it was the first line. As he wrote elsewhere, "There is no line which is really mine, except that I find it and find it to be fine..."]

A soldier of darkness AND a prince of peace?
A bringer of light as well as blood and gore?
Can human beings be both of these?
I'm afraid so, and indeed so much more!

The time has come, but that's not ´really true,
because, the time has always been -- here and now --
for all of us to learn to know what we really do:
How we maim and heal, love and hate and how
we twist the sacred dreams of all mankind
for silly goals worth a hill of beans.

We turn everything inside out only to find
we lost along the way what it all really means:

Our lives define our common humanity;
and thus we slip into our common insanity...

Saturday, June 21, 2008

12. Soldier of Darkness -- Prince of Peace

[I can find little to say about this, the 12th installment of "Our Common Insanity". The unknown poet hasn't left any notes lying around, not that I can find anyway. However, when he mentions "Poosah City" -- does he mean to say that he actually grew up there?

If true, it would mean that he grew up in the same town as both Ichabod Rain and Elmer Eggplant! That, in turn, brings the interesting question: did the three ever meet or, perhaps, actually know each other? Even more important, could this give us a clue as to the actual identity of the unknown poet?

That would be a feather in the cap of any researcher of the Absolute Truth, 21st Edition! Ah, it is likely nothing more than another of his coy poetic ploys for which he is so well known.]

Is there anything from the hand of a man you can trust?

I figger that's the "Sixty-Four Dollar Question",
like the one you had to answer or go bust,
on the quiz shows in Poosah City when we were children.

Later, they went for "Sixty-Four-Thousand-Dollars".
Now it's a million or more! It just goes to show
that everything's inflated. That's why we all holler
for more. For what? I really don't know...

It's almost as if a moment goes by without
our being titillated, we begin to fret!
"Gimme the zapper!" everybody shouts.
I know where that leads, so I'm not taking any bets...

It seems we'll all be left alone to grieve
with a soldier of darkness and a prince of peace.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

11. Is There Anyone You Can Trust?

[As we near the end of this poem cycle which the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy called a "sonnette corona", he revisits a theme from his major work, "The Arrogant Prophecies", which might be summed up as: "glory" comes in two distinct and quite different flavors. As he puts it: there is the glory of the Lady of Light and Liberty and the glory of Madam in Her Fat Car.

He then alludes to several sayings attributed to the Holy Idaho, the only besprouted spud of the Great Potato. He concludes with the question, when you get down to it, who can you really trust?]

"Bright City of Light Upon the Hill", o city divine:
it was proven long ago...but for whom...
for whom, I must ask, for whom does your brightness shine?

For whom belongs the curse of the deeper doom?

"Blessed are the meek," the master said,
so long ago, "for they shall inherit the earth."

The only ones who "inherit" the earth are the dead,
they and their blood which cries in silent curse
from the earth, a silent cry for justice to come.

It was also said, "Those who hunger" will be filled"!

Will anything be left when all "justice" has been done?
Will there be enough to fill a shoe, or a sparrow's bill?

When all has been said and all goes down to dust,
is there anything from the hand of a man you can trust?

In the 3rd level footnotes to the Absolute Truth, 21st Edition, I found a reference where the unknown poet answers his own question with yet another:
"If you can’t trust yourself, how can you trust anyone?"

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

10. Bright City of Light Upon the Hill

[In "War is a Racket", General Smedley Butler in the opening lines states, "It is the only [racket] in which the profits are reckoned in dollars and the losses in lives." He then gives numerous examples of the carrion eaters who distill great fortunes from the bodies and maimed souls of the soldiers, the cannon fodder, the grunts.

The unknown poet echoes these sentiments in a slightly different way, progressing from the condition of troops returning home to those who "support" the troops with an easily purchased flag on their lapel to those who would use human sacrifice to build and maintain a "City of Light Upon the Hill". Note that he speaks of "a" not "the" City of Light -- William Blake used this device in "A Divine Image" poem to parallel "The Divine Image"]

When they get home, what kind of future will they face?

Will they ever heal and become whole again?

They almost all have scars in a hidden place,
which no one knows unless they themselves have been
where day is night and each night a dusty hell.

It's easy to talk about heroes and say,
"Support our troops!", with a flag on your lapel,
your chest wide with pride on Memorial Day...

It's easy to sing, "Gawd Bless Arrogance!".
It's easy to jive about national pride
and the excellence of Gawd's Providence long there's little chance that you will die!

"We will prove, no matter who we have to kill:
we're a "Bright City of Light Upon the Hill".
In our own culture, in fairy tales, one often meets the evil ogre, giant or troll who lives in a great house upon a hill -- the peasant's-eye-view, so to speak, of the mansion or castle of his feudal lord. Similarly, a "City of Light" can cast different shadows, depending if you are living on the hill or in the valley below.

We will see this how this new theme develops in the next poem in a couple of days...

Sunday, June 15, 2008

9. What Kind of Future Will We Face?

[Here, in the 9th installment of the "Our Common Insanity" corona, the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy presents us with what would seem to be snippets of speech flashing by -- and yet, if you look closely, you will he is using great skill in keeping them with the meter and rhyming pattern.

In the penultimate line, readers are made sure of what they have already suspected, that the poem, with a few snapshots, is about the horrors and atrocities inflicted upon Wudda-Wreck by the Arrogant invasion.

The poem then ends with the question: What will happen when these people wounded in body, mind and soul return home?]

"We're counting to three and then you better run!
One...two -- bwah-hah! Take that you silly little shit!"

"What's that? He wasn't a bad guy -- just someone
in the wrong place at the wrong time? Here, quick,
put a shovel in his hand and let's get out of here,
that'll make it look like he was plantin' a roadside bomb..."

"Let's get back to the Dream Zone and grab a can of beer..."

"I'm sick of this place -- why the fug did we ever come..?"

"We wasted some sand niggas today, what the fug does it matter..?"

"I'm starting to see rag-heads in my dreams..."

"My buddy, his guts were all bloody and splattered..."

"If I don't get outta here soon, I'm gonna scream..."

"Wudda-wreck we have made of this place,
when we get home, I wonder, what kind of future we'll face?"

Friday, June 13, 2008

8. We're Counting to Three...

We continue with number 8 in the a series of 14 short poems which the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy called a "corona" or "crown" -- he produced several of these poem cycles and this one has the title, "Our Common Insanity".

Knowing his views on what passed for religion in the Third Galaxy, one might think that the title was a parody on a phrase supposedly coined by Elmer Eggplant, the philosopher and part time theologian, "our common humanity". Although this very well may be the case and it is tempting to think so, the most I can say is that many researchers of the Absolute Truth share this opinion but no one has yet been able to prove it.

But, back to today's verse -- it pretty much speaks for itself, that is if you have read at least the forgoing poem. However, I would like to point out that in the middle the voice of the poem changes to that of the author, which he indicates with the use of bold italics enclosed in hard parenthesis

"Not snake-eyes again! Quick roll the dice!
No one's looking -- the croupier's out to lunch!
Yeah, we know, cheating's not so nice..."

"Men gotta do what men gotta do -- we're not a bunch
of girlie boys playing with girlie toys!"

[That life is real is what I'm ranting about,
dirty tricks and game theory ploys
won't save us now. It's time to stand up and shout...]

Instead it's,"Get outta our face muddafuggas!
It all belongs to us because -- we're entitled!
We need and therefore we take the world's resources!"

"The case is closed because we have so decided!"

"If you don't like it, you can kiss our Arrogant bums!
We're counting to three and then you better run!"

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

7. Snake Eyes...

The unknown poet of the Third Galaxy has elsewhere stated most emphatically that the efforts to ameliorate the effects of the global climatic catastrophe were as ridiculous an useless as a drunk swearing not to open a new bottle of booze before he gets out of bed in the morning.

In this version, it's a group of drunks rolling dice to find who will pay for the next round drinks before they give up the juice the next morning -- unfortunately for them and for that poor world -- the dice come up snake eyes...

Is it something deeper, that we're afraid to mention,
which fills us with shame and follows us wherever we go?
Is it mortal sins or simple sins of omission?
Indeed, it's hard to name, but this I know:

We need to understand it soon because
the time is short, in fact, it's running out...

We've trashed our earth and disobeyed her laws
and now, like drunks, all bleary eyed, we shout:

"We're gonna give up the juice -- tomorrow, we think --
but we haven't the time right now to pay the price,
that is except for another bitter drink..."

"who's paying for the next round -- let's roll the dice!
Sixes and seven will get us to heaven in the wink
of an eye -- o, no! Snake Eyes! That wasn't so nice!"

Monday, June 09, 2008

6. Something Deeper...

The unknown poet of the Third Galaxy expands here upon yet another one of his main themes -- that religion had been hijacked, so to speak, by charlatans, hustlers and madmen. But, why was it possible, he asks? Was there a deeper fault line in the human soul? Is there a fatal flaw, as he elsewhere implies, in the entire concept of sentient beings?

As he asks elsewhere, is that why the stars are so far apart?

If so, would this imply that the Creator itself is a raving insanity or just cynically wise beyond our comprehension?

The "Lord" they serve rules a kingdom of death?

That's what I said and that's exactly what I meant!
How dare they do what they do to Holy Breath?
It's exactly as if the coin of the Kingdom was spent
on dried snot and used toilet wipe.

I try so very hard not to rant,
but when I hear them selling rancid tripe
as the "Will of God", to keep silent -- I can't!

People are not as "stoopid" as they think.
We understand how they bamboozle us!
We know what's in the kool-aid they make us drink!

So why don't more of us make more of a fuss?

Is it because we're all afraid of perdition?
Or is it something deeper, that we're afraid to mention?

Saturday, June 07, 2008

5, The "Lord" They Serve...

If you are the least acquainted with my postings about the work of the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy, you know that he was fascinated by the coming of the what became known on that poor world as the Terrible Times.

He was most emphatic, however, in his denial that they were in any way ordained by the Great Potato. Indeed, all who did trade in such lies and fantasies, he considered "false prophets" of the worst and most literal sort. One of his core themes was that everyone is a prophet if they but take the time to listen to Reality and dare, in a small or greater way, speak truth to power.

When the wounded heart, so long denied, reappears,
is it really true that the earth will quake and shake
and that the sun will hide and the moon cry bloody tears?

Myself, I've little patience with those who take
our ancient texts, twist them into bits
and rearrange them in screenplays about what must come next!

In my book, they are all a bunch of little shits,
sending us all to hell on phony pretexts!

Shall I really speak what's really on my mind?
First of all, disaster does not have to be!
Therefore, calling them false prophets is far too kind!

To speak truth to power, that is prophecy!

Come close to me and smell the bile on my breath:
The "Lord" they serve rules a kingdom of death!

Thursday, June 05, 2008

4. The Wounded Heart

The "Bankers of Illusion", another recurring image of the unknown poet, is thought by many students of the Absolute Truth, 21st Edition, to refer to the mass media of the Third Galaxy. I don't quite agree. I feel quite strongly that poetic imagery, much in the same manner as dream symbols must be understood as meaning several things at once. The Bankers of Illusion is a conflation of mass media with the interests of the Mega Corps along with anti-spirit and moral bankruptcy.

The period up to the beginning of the Terrible Times was indeed antimonian, an age of ignorance, avarice and arrogance. As the democracies devolved and the lights went out, all that mattered to the ruling classes was power, money and privilege -- the one enabling the possessor to acquire more of the other two.

Behind a pack of lies and flatulance
and finely carved and polished wooden masks
projecting simulated excellence,
the Bankers of Illusion go about their tasks...

Stripping Purity and Innocence clear to the bone,
they serve them up with spicy barbeque sauce.

True feeling can now only be felt alone!
Love becomes a commodity that costs
not only your heart's blood -- but cold cash!

And so, as the Age of Arrogance begins,
all human values are shat upon and trashed,
and holiness is counted as a mortal sin...

What then, my friend? What will you do with your fears
when the wounded heart, so long denied, reappears?

Tuesday, June 03, 2008

3. A Pack of Lies

The unknown poet of the Third Galaxy had a "thing" about the Fenris Wolf. Since this poem cycle began with "dogs barking", it was inevitable I suppose that the Fenris would appear because of his well-known associative way of producing poetry.

Fenris is the child of Loki and Angrboda. The name of the chain with the creature was bound is Gleipnir (deciever or entangler). It was made of the footstep of a cat, the roots of a mountain, a woman's beard, the breath of fishes, the sinews of a bear and the spittle of birds. Fenris was chained by this wisp of magic to a rock a mile under the earth. The name of the rock is Gioll (scream).

"Fimbul Winter" is another recurrent theme in his work. A fimbul winter is a blue winter of intense cold. According to prophecy Rawnarock, the Nordic equivalent of Apogalips, the twilight of the gods will be preceded by three fimbul, or blue winters. The Fenris will then break free and Rawnarock come on, so to speak, the wolf's heels...

I thought I just heard the Fenris' gutteral cough!

On this, the nordic vision is very clear:
"Wars and rumors of wars" are not enough;
Three Fimbul Winters in three consecutive years
must first appear before he can break his chain.

(The magical silver chain, dwarf-woven and forged.
The magic chain which bound the wolf in pain
after Tyr had left his arm in the Fenris' gorge!)

But on such a summerly day as we have today,
how can anyone lend to such dreams any credance?

There are many games afoot and many who play
with our hearts, minds and souls with no pretense
except a mask of rightiousness esconced
behind a pack of lies and flatulence!


Sunday, June 01, 2008

2. The Fenris Coughs...

[The first verse of "Our Common Insanity" referred to the rape and pillage of a small village during one of the many wars that burned for years on the Eurapean continent. It concluded with the observation that our modern technology delivers atrocity much more efficiently.

The second verse plays with themes from both the images from the Aberrations of St. Jawn and the Nordic prophecy the Fenris Wolf who, when released, would usher in Rawnarock]

War has become greater than Pestilence?
How odd! Do the Four Horsemen now compete?
For what prize do they strive to show their excellence:

A crown of shit? A diadem of rotting meat?

What strategy will Famine now employ?
Will Disease pull out of his sleeve a new tactical trick?
Will Death again reunite with his own true joy?
Will the winner be able to make his victory stick?

Those are sick questions to have to ask, are they not?
Do we really need to have four Horsemen at all?
Could we not get by with One - or would that ruin the plot?

Two bites from one apple, weren't they enough for one Fall?

One Horseman for all -- I think that might be enough?

I thought I just heard the Fenris' gutteral cough!