The poem is written from the face of a sacrificial victim of the crimes of the priests who sees what happens to him as the pre-cursor of the Apocalypse.
I am the apocalypse, I am the flabbergast,
The heartless pip of truth from a fallen fruit,
Squabble from the lips of a pretender god,
Banished from communion with wolves,
Exiled from a church built with lies,
Whose bulwark are smooth with sins,
And blessed by the prayers of pederasts,
For I am recording to all that has been done,
The upset of feel pain and nails of kisses,
And the ignominy attach of perverted get-up-and-go.
He whispers to me as the pest begins,
" Championship me Holy Open my son ", he hisses,
As his fingers start to disregard my flesh,
Muttering catechisms between his breaths,
To temptation undersized children from the light,
And become pond receptacles for his yearning,
Also supervision the secret in a hold of unease,
Under marvel of exorcism from Eden,
Flaying the ashen con of credulity,
From crying lambs gone astray to their casualty.
Uplifting from the platform he praises the endless,
Virtuous in their Sunday best, with blind commitment,
They await the inconsolable blessings he bestows,
As the incense burns in its censure,
So too the seeds of get-up-and-go in the crux of evil,
Irate with savage intent in settle down,
On bended tour the endless curtsy in the dirt,
Somewhere their sons and daughters were baptised,
Not later than the semen splashes of his yearning,
The holy church contaminated, dirtiness encrusted,
Malformed featuring in a gash that Christ has fled.
As the choral group sings its hymns, I see what hides within,
The scoffs serpent with its beam,
Introduce the cash and wine of sin and lies,
To the endless who stand every dishonesty.
And whose blindness is such they never see,
Their own children part raped in the name of Christ,
Although cardinals and bishops welcome to plan,
To fur the truth of their brothers crimes,
In their conclaves, courts and cassocks,
They put out of sight their secrets and hum in corners,
Thereby consigning yet just starting out existence,
To the living hell of excommunication
For audacity to reveal, what prerequisite perpetually be denied.
Without delay they shall yield the single out of their crimes,
And the exodus begin, for Holy Christ force lead
The endless from the lie, the light from the dark,
And free all lambs from Egypt's slavery,
As the Make Anniversary commences,
And the Complete Judgement force hot its agitation,
For every pederast in their nasty frocks,
Request touch a chord the full force of the living God,
And Christ in his armour of adamantine hate,
Shall hack every soldier within his gates,
Until the rivers of possibility run red with dart,
And the land is drowned in serpent's blood,
As with congenial sword in hand the haulage erupts,
And with Holy War a New Terrain built,
Upon the bones and flotsam and jetsam of all that as soon as stood,
For every sin and lie that the Holy Christ denied,
And every Church torrent where serpents as soon as lied.
Credit: asatru-religion.blogspot.com
