Suffering - Parts 6 - 7

6
Monkey in wonderland,
sons of the falling ape,
ones the ate the apple
and spat it out in the face of Christ.
A hundred of them bouncing on a universal bed,
the one that fell off and banged its brain,
is the one we followed
and that’s the one that’s lost.
Tickle a badger and run off down the ward laughing,
wear ping pong balls for eyes in front of your deathly mother,
paint ducks on a asylum wall
and feed them with 5000 loafs of bread and fish,
futility makes us this way,
and we’ve made it this way.
We watch helplessly as a tiny Christ falls to the ground,
a ground unaccepting to Christ’s,
bringing a universal snow.
This makes things cold,
too cold for us,
all it needs is a wind to make it unbearable,
and on the third day
a wind springs up,
that shakes an earthly bell
that swings between life and death,
in the kingdom that has no end.

7
There is something going on,
long and slow like the sea,
ticking in this darkened room
where somebody says something and nobody hears.
The darkened room where a dying World is operated on,
performed by a screaming surgeon,
finding the incomplete,
slicing the cancer in the egg,
the more it screams,
the more he screams
and the more he goes on cutting.
Is there no end to the torture?
Is it credible that such extremities of torture are endless?
The tortures occur,
and either way we’re for it.
He was for it on the cross,
why should we get off.
Peter knew what was coming
and the blood of the lamb loved that monkey to death,
killing his pride and shaming us all.
A grief observed
pissing on our fuck-board palace in Hell forever.
“Come out the trees and look what’s happened.
A monkey with a fucking bad idea.
A beautiful child with a brain that’s stormed.
Love your son and your daughter, and don’t let them drown,
if they do, cut your throat and stab your eyes,
lay your life down and hope your pain was ten times more than theirs“.