not since when last october lied
have I dared to cry
on the submission of a crusaders sunken chest
where once a souless christian
danced with the drooling saxons experimental holy cross;
high upon the hills of a jerusalem lost
where once a king, mangled the brains of an incarcerated flood
while hanging from an eyebrows twisting limb
where I walked through the parted blood of a disciples peasant sex;
through the veins of an amaranths evicted purple sprouting
disfigured and discarded
now lame between the smouldering breasts of a goddess dealing dope
it is the eternal hope of where a serpent in suspenders
straddles my bereaving taste of a prostates battle cry;
a thimble juice of god
nimble and fucked and tucked up in a heavens ball
a petrified yet pasturised semen glassed between the eyes
it is no suprise
the disguise of a pregnant prayer still peels away the skin that covers my atheist tongue;
it is the queen of old el salvador
that has ruffled the feathers of my chequered flag of uncromponising interlect
where the suspected whore bored into the sunrise of my extreme
and deemed my sorrow as nothing more than an intravenious drip
feeding from the garbage can of a sunflowers medalling squeeze;
not since when last october
drifted on the sleaze of a contrived and infant song
have I dared to become the lyracist
that has dared the world to die and sing alone
with the pretence of a god pretending surplus
with his plastic scent of a costumed savage rape;