War
War, whore
death and sex.
The great woebegone
Harlot of Babylon.
A succubus that drives and derives
satisfaction from bloody entrails
that haruspices
inspect and say
that men will undergo fresh tides of woe.
Love and death dance hand in hand.
He kills that which he loves most
instinctively.
Suicide, fratricide, homicide
and matricide
all seem to co- incide with twisted lust..
Christians reborn recoil in disgust
at the putrescent smell
of tolerance that is enforced.
Be gay and love your fellow man
Cybernetically.
Keyboards of the world unite
vent your spite, electronically
in bits and bytes.
Perversely converse
with pediatricians on expeditions
and gynaecologist apologists
intent on investing incest.
With an aura of respectability.
the almighty dollar wears a roman collar
Absolves all sins.
Repentance is free but piety
an extravaganza, in fishnet tights and scarlet spikes
that haunts the streets at night. To satisfy your appetite
ye stiff necked generation that hold in veneration
innocence and purity.
Under the surface lies a festering cesspool
That will and must overflow into war.
The scarlet whore that swore what she wore.
her uniform of shame was part of the game
That she was trapped inside,
a slave to liberty.
We all have the will to kill and the ability to love,
but we want more. We covet what we have not got
Forbidden fruit is sweeter when it is stolen
from another who has less than we do.
The human race is a disgrace
That lacks all humanity
Their major skill to co-operate and kill
in ever increasing numbers.
In the name of love and or religion
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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