Suffering - Part's 8, 9, 10

8
When confronted by the dilemma of human squalor,
and the inconstancy of natural happiness,
one is steadily made unbearable.
Little flakes of us,
like snowflakes,
settle down into an image of the human ghost.
What’s left?
A corpse, a memory, a devil.
The mother defiled,
the father murdered,
the children slain.
Having been reduced to the savage,
smarting from the eternal admission,
one crosses the threshold of reflection.
In this supple inflection,
in this harmonious recasting
which transfigures the whole grouping of human deformation,
externally and internally,
we can not fail to find precious confirmation
of what we had already guessed.
That a Cosmic sickness pervades every human head,
every foetus and flower,
and that the apocalyptic horse has become Pope.

9
The social id masturbates its ego
and ejaculates
a darkened history of the black arts and animal sex.
The mad ape looks into the wounds of the Christ crucified,
only to find that in His victory,
the Father was not who we thought He was.
The unfinished transgression
cancelled the subscription to the ape resurrection
killing the quantum cat in a cosmic car accident.
Human evaporation, through Christ’s Trinity
finds itself in His holy urine,
cycling in the eyes of St John,
narcissistically in the water of which,
fell in love with the tears in the eyes of Christ.
The horror seen in his eyes
is in the continuous fall down a black hole
giving a fairytale meaning of torture and starvation,
past Auschwitz and ground zero,
past famine and chain stoking
and in a grandmothers incontinence
as her arse is wiped
by a gum chewing 19 year old care assistant
wanting to get home
to her beer swilling boyfriend
(Both of whom will die).

10
Like a dance stopped in mid career,
love cut short,
or a flower with its head unluckily snapped off,
human squalor is no sherry party.
To keep the dead completely dead,
to keep the bedroom exactly as the departed left it,
ten bottles of sherry will not suffice.
Did Christ know how much He took away with Him when he left?
In our paper mind all reality is in ruins.
But then of course we know perfectly well
He can not be used as a road,
for all those approaching Him this way
will not be approaching Him at all.
World with out end,
is no more than a chuckle in the darkness.
Cancer, cancer, cancer cries the universe,
pour a cup of tea over your head,
shout cancer and die.
It is incredible how much happiness,
even how much gaiety we have after all hope is gone…….