>>2319378 lb
The horned Jesus
Now you now why that call him Lord
All the time.
Because they are really talking about
Satan.
All those fundamentalist ministers shouting
I feel the power of the Lord
Give yourself up to the Lord
And in a frenzy
They convince you
to accept the Lord as your personal savior
But what Lord rules people with frenzied emotions?
Not the God of Abraham, that's for sure.
On the last bread
An Anon asked me
>Why are you typing
>like you have limited
>space on each line?
Well,
There is no law that says
Thou shalt make thy browser window
Fill the full width of the screen
Is there?
Nor is there a law that sayeth
All your words shall you offer up the Lord
In straight lines as the furrows in a field
Being careful to plough your sentences
Right up the the headlands
Under no circumstance, sayeth the Lord
Shall the fields be divided by hedgerows
Rich with God's bounty of berries and nuts
And the fruits of the tree and small game
No sayeth the Lord, you shall serve me
And me alone, eating my daily bread
Which I shall generously grant to you
Out of mine storehouses rich with wheaten grains
Grown in my fields by the labor of your backs
Remember oh sheep, I am the Lord thy shepherd
Thou shall not want while thou servest me
And toileth in my fields
I shall grant you labor to fill thy days
And entertainment for my hilt days
When you shall celebrate me thy Lord
And bless me for the bread and circuses
I am the Lord thy god,
Do not raise thy heads to glance at me
Lest the sight of your Lord Satan
Should fill you with dread
Remember that I might strike you down
For the smallest of slights
Do not trifle with me, Lucifer, the morning star
Who heralds the light out of darkness
Do not write short lines
As if to create poetry
This gift I reserve
Only
For mine priests
Who bear my mark
So sayeth the Lord.
As you may have guessed, I do not like this Satan guy
And I asked God for permission and he said to me
Hey man, that's cool, I could use another beat generation
Those yanks are so stuck up their bums
About poetry
Wait til they meet my Russian children
Where you have to write poetry
To be considered a real man
And real men hug each other
With tears in their eyes
And never have to say "no homo"
Because, like man, it's brotherhood
And brotherhood is cool because I created it.
So having consulted with God,
I write them short.