Posts Tagged ‘Religious’

In a red and arid land far away,
An attack is mounting,
An assault on feminine autonomy,
A patriarchal drake,
Calling itself a law,
Summoned in a circle marked with quills,

Stand firm sisters and mothers,
This beast can be fought,
Nothing can burn your choice,
You are might,
You are freedom,
The summoners of this creature know this,

Jeeringly they call themselves a supreme court,
These men think themselves puppeteers,
Longing to travel back in time,
To more ignorant years,
When fiction ruled lives,
Theocracy slivering out of the cracks,

You can not back down from this,
Your bodies are your own,
Ginsburg is behind you,
Stand firm ladies,
They will not take your strength,
Your sovereignty.

They expected worship,
Praying by the riverside was never enough,
Your exaltations not exuberant enough,
You had not bled enough,
Your knees not nearly scalded enough,
You are too free,
How dare you practice prayer unbridled?

They demand more,
Always more,
Those people from the spires,
Those who talk to clear skies,
They need you,
So an aquatic conversion must be performed,
Directed by a man in white,

The preacher forces your head down,
The river takes you,
A loving embrace,
Currents trying to warn you,
Drowning you before their holy water does,
But they take you from the river,
Into a set of invisible manacles,

This is an incarceration of a new kind,
The binding not of the wrists,
But of the soul,
How dare you practice prayer unbridled?
How dare you practice liberal heresy?
Freedom of spirit is a sin,
That man-made book says so,

The river could not save you,
Its waters muffled by echoing sermons,
Liberty drifts away.

I see you,
Supplicants and sycophants all,
Under those predatory spires,
Within ivory gothic monsters,
A church of destruction,

Did you know you stand on sacred land?
Not of the biblical kind,
But a boneyard,
As you kneel at your oaken pews,
You stand upon graves too,

This institution buried these bodies,
It ate them body and soul,
A temple of killers,
Justified by voices in your head and from the pulpit,
An ecclesiastical superiority complex,

You stand upon corpses,
You pray,
Looking up to ghosts of gods in the sky,
Prostrating yourselves to an absent father,
The rays in the clouds are just radiation,

Each skeleton is a sin,
Committed by the alleged unprofane.



Ifrit,
Fire given form,
Smoke and ash given intent,
Among the jinn he resides,
Among creatures of the hereafter,
Upon a searing wind of flame,
He comes to Mundus,
With broiling malice in his eyes,
Emanations of foul determination,

Ifrit,
He comes to spread misfortune,
His bestial form is scalding in its barbarism,
Horns and scorched auburn fur,
He comes to bring about an encompassing scorched earth,
But there is a defence,
Go to your Imam,
Chant your Du’a,
Chant if you hope to douse the fire,

To defeat him,
To defeat Ifrit.

As this days sun grows coral,
The sacrifice is brought up,
To the apex of this temple,
Our golden pyramid,
This one shall suffice,

The sacred hymns are recited,
Drawing the scrutiny of the gods,
My obsidian blade is held in thirsty readiness,
The time is upon us,
Two small eyes grimace up,

‘Tetatzin…?’

The blade falls,
The vessel is pierced,
The pantheons wine is spilled,
Painting the glimmer of this place,
My people ring out in hysteria,

We become phrenetic in holy awe,
Aloft a warm youthful heart is held,
Hesitating to still beat,
Huitzilopochtli drink deep,
And be praised by this act.

To the freakshow I went,
Yes I did,
To see the Strongman,
To gawk upon him was to see a titan,
A toned personification of divine motif,
A visual ambrosia,

His body had been created by sorcery surely,
Built with tales as tall as any colossus,
His arms the girth of proud redwoods,
His chiselled chin had even cleft the canyons,
He whose stance holds asunder continents,
He whose shoulders could lift up the sky,

Metaphor only scrapes the surface,
The circus lights hid much of his humanity,
He was superhuman,
In another time,
A more simple time,
He could have been named a god,

Unnatural,
A freak.

I once cultivated a dream,
Or was it a nightmare?
Of all of us being thrown from the heavens,
Down to a globe-shaped tartarus,
A rapture of a different kind,
Billions of little Lucifers,
Free-willed and vivid meteors,

Free falling in masses,
Our malice and parasitism in tow,
A sky ablaze in tangerine and ruby,
A storm on the horizon,
Were we being punished?
Or was this a punishment for Earth?
Were we the penance?

Do not call me lazy,
Despite my outward performance,
This dreamy cobalt haze,
Thralldom to a demonic apathy,
One of the seven,
Weighing ones limbs down,
But moreso ones soul,
Rendering all effort as wasteful,

Have you even met Sloth?
That cruel vice of lethargy,
A disinterest in ones own life,
Leaden disinterest in betterment,
A zombie of no necromantic persuasion,
I find myself slave to this sinful trail,
A yellow brick road to ruin,
To live is needless exertion.

He is whirling,
Devout in his movements,
The aches in his legs mean nothing,
Physical exertions to praise the upper,
Let the spiritual ecstasy never cease,

Spin and praise,

Upon the sunburned steps of Istanbul,
His ebony robes appear a turbine,
The whirling continues,
A trance-like tornado of limbs,
Arousing his soul,

Spiral in wajad,

This Dervish and his euphoric twirl,
Is closer to immortality than I could dream,
Each priestly rotation brings further enlightenment,
The whirling shall not stop,
Not until salvation bears its head.

I’ve had enough,
Bile rises in my gullet,
Sick of the false prayers,
Golden cathedrals looming over the serfs,
A mistaken license to look down on others,
All began by him,

Weary of a so-called god,
Held aloft by old gothic spires,
Who is either evil behind a facade,
Offhandedly unwilling,
Or incapable of saving his so-called children,
So wrathful my hands grip his ivory throat,

Lightning licks at my arms,
But I persevere,
No more sermons,
Angelic flames scald my hands,
But they hold fast,
No more decrees,

My hands do not let go,
Until the divine lights leave his eyes,
And his religious larynx is crushed,
The angels and cherubs shriek in lamentation,
And fade into nothingness,
People can hear humanity once again,

We are our own gods now.