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good ridance to the pope..

Reality Asylum | 02.04.2005 13:08

Reality Asylum

Reality Asylum


I am no feeble Christ, not me


He hangs in glib delight upon His cross


Above my body, lowly me


Christ forgive, forgive?


Holy He, He holy, He holy?


Shit He forgives, Forgive? Forgive?


I? I? Me? I? I vomit for you Jesu


Christy Christus


Puke upon your papal throne


Wrapped you are in the bloody shroud


Of churlish suicide


Wrapped I am in the muddy cloud


Of hellish genocide


Petulant child


I have suffered for you


Where you have never known me


I too must die


Will you be shadowed in the arrogance


Of my death? Your valley truth


What lights pass those pious heights?


What passing bells for these in their trucks?


For you lord


You are the flag-bearer of these nations


One against the other that die in the mud


No piety. No deity


Is that your forgiveness?


Saint. Martyr. Goat. Billy. Forgive?


Shit He forgives


He hangs upon His cross


In self-righteous judgement


Hangs in crucified delight


Nailed to the extent of His vision


His cross. His manhood. His violence. Guilt. Sin


He would nail my body to His cross


As if I might have perfumed His body


Washed those bloody feet


This woman that He seeks


Suicide visionary. Death reveller. Rake. Rapist


Gravedigger. Earthmover. Lifefucker. Jesu


You scooped the pits of Auschwitz


The soil of Treblinka is rich in your guilt


The sorrow of your tradition


Your stupid humility is the crown of thorns


We all must wear. For you. Ha. Master


Master of gore. Enigma. Stigma. Stigmata. Errata. Eraser


The cross is the mast of our oppression


You fly there, vain flag. You carry it


Wear it on your back, Lord. Your back


Enola is your gaiety


Suffer little children to come unto me


Suffer in that horror. Hirohorror. Hirrohiro


Hiroshimmer. Shimmerhiro. Hiroshima. Hiroshima


The bodies are your delight


The incandescent flame is the spirit of it


They come to you, Jesu. To you


The nails are the only trinity


Hold them in your corpsey gracelessness


The image that I have had to suffer


These nails at my temple


The cross is the virgin body of womanhood


That you defile


In your guilt you turn your back


Nailed to that body


Lame-arse Jesus calls me sister


There are no words for my contempt


Every woman is a cross in His filthy theology


He turns His back on me in His fear


His vain delight is the pain I bear


Alone He hangs. His choice. His choice


Alone. Alone. His voice. His voice


He shares nothing, this Christ


Sterile. Impotent. Fuck love prophet of death


He is the ultimate pornography


He. He. Hear us Jesus


You sigh alone in you cockfear


You lie alone in your womanfear


You die alone in your manfear


Alone Jesu, alone


In your cockfear. Cuntfear. Womanfear. Manfear


Alone in your fear. Alone in your fear


Your fear. Your fear. Warfare. Warfare


Jesus died for His own sins. Not mine




crass

Reality Asylum