Tangents And Abstractions Not Known to You Or I

Tangents And Abstractions Not Known to You Or I

A Poem by Bob Bob

Ghosts.

A clown parade.

The festival of the crossed arms.

The school bells have rung.

A clown has a chalk, ready to devour minds.

An army armed with chalks.

That’s a lash for poor dimensions, distribution and the layout of the text.

Student Protest.

Squashed by dawn.

 

Clothe yourself in the rags of the riches

Clothe yourself in the coat of materialism

For you are forgetting the porous odour which is stamped on top of you head

The stench of victimisation.

 

Don’t worry my children.

The bull is here to save you.

It comes on horseback

It comes from messengers

Open to all

Accept  my message

Prithee

 

Come to the pit.

I will show you the grave of heroes

I will show you the grave of evildoers

Welcome to the middle ground.

Lord Mithras has granted you initiation.

Be Thankful

He has prevented war against your brethren

Be Thankful

He has prevented contractual differences with your brothers and sisters

 

 

You cannot reject the macrosom of order.

Forget the sobornost ideals.

For when they come asking for me

I will say “I didn’t know you, Get away from me”

Mithras

Where Are You?

Your altar lays empty

December 25th was his day.

How dare they

Substitute an pagan for a pagan.

It’s beyond human comprehension.

Skinny Dip.  

 

The  tauroctony has started.

Rip off his own.

Rip  off his mother's

For she cannot gain any more gratification.

 

The one called female was part of the process of subjugation from the start

The one called female; a horrendous product of nature

I am not satisfied with my current female, for I will get a new one tomorrow.

I will dominate you

The man will dominate you.

I will greatly increase the pain of your pregnancy

In pain you will give birth to chlidren

Your longing will be for your husband

He will dominate you

 

They raise their voice, they ring the bells, they form groups.

Their cries fall upon attentive ears.

The ears retort “For we laughing at you don’t you have any sense”

You take swords of truth to us.

We give you decrees of lies

Indecisive action.

“You are easy to manipulate woman”

 

O God rid of her sodomy.

O God rid her of sodomy

It’s not the action,it’s the thought

O God rid her of life..

The process of societal rapture has begun.

 

The nations have heard your dishonor

And your outcry has filled the land

For warrior stumbles against warrior

And they both fall down together

Anyone feeling the terror will fall into the pit

And anyone coming up from the pit will be caught in the trap

 

 

Hide from the one that derails from true worship

The feather quills have started writing

Their fate is sealed for the very day that they conceive, they, they perish into the system.

 

 

 

“You must be the best”

“You are my favourite”.

We all know the rhetoric has multiple faces

Clouded by opinions, panegyrics of themselves.

The clouds themselves reflect their opaqueness.

The Pontiff and the chemarims,  are laughing.

 

 

You will not see it coming.

For my day will come like a thief in the night.

Keep On The Watch.

For the voice you listen to, your heart   is deciving .

For you woman, you are mixture  of ideals.

You will not find your place of resting place.

And I saw and look  a pale horse and the one seated on it had the name Death. And the Grave was closely following him.

 

By Callaghan



© 2017 Bob Bob



Author's Note

Bob Bob
Ignore Grammar Problems
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Added on June 12, 2017
Last Updated on June 12, 2017
Tags: Religion, World, Acopolyatic, Estachological

Author

Bob Bob
Bob Bob

London, United Kingdom



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