America, Obama's Ctesiphon (A Mock on Humanity) (An Idyll)

Soon Obama's America will demand all Americans to prostrate before ithyphallic deities - (figuratively speaking) If not Allah! (In essence, America's first Amendment is being redefined) To pledge life and limb to demonic ways, from the supernatural world. Of course people have given Obama this power, with no caution in spirit, no discretion, to start this new frenzy, so it doesn't say much for its citizens. Why does Satan use such men? To deny those empty assembly seats in heaven, that the renegade angelic beings left, when thrown out of heaven, long ago, now to be replaced by God's new Saints! And the only way Lucifer can hurt God, is through man! So he thinks. And why can't people see this? Which is still a mystery to me. The souls of the devils are attached to this president, and his image of the new America, that at this very minute, sinks in the sands of sacrilege... He has tarnished America, her eternal beauty lost, her mission to guide the rest of the world at any cost; where as now, we are all-so it appears-subjects, for whatever whim he chooses.

These Men Are Blemishes At Your Love Feast, Eating With You Without The Slightest Qualm:
Let them all come in, the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker for once the circle of love has been created no one will ever let you live it down. But there are far too many things to worry about than just a single blemish or two, defects can come in all shapes and sizes so this is god's gift that has only been given for the likes of you.

They Speak Abusively Against Whatever They Do Not Understand, These Are The Things That Destroy Them:
Do it alone for what might they see, a lonely dog, a cat, fried fish, satay beef, pickled curry. Yet these are the things that destroy them as they never learn. Screaming pigs, bright lights, branded cows, exits in the alley, a bellowing bridge for we know just how badly it can hurt.

We Wish You Happiness:
Here you are the keys of hope. Only you who sees the true light, but for the others it has gone out.

They Are Clouds Without Rain Blown Along By The Wind Autumn Trees Without Fruit Uprooted Twice Dead:
So that is where they go, everything a mystery in the grand cycle, an abysmal circle of unjust ordinary things. But perhaps this is the way it should be because only a fool could believe that all of this is discernible to the abilities of a quotidian eye. Yet some people place faith in extraordinary events, soothsayers, augurs, zombies in the night.

The Door-Keeper:
The Door-keeper stood guarding the closed door to the 'Law Hall of Courts.' Mr. Sterling was told he was guilty of breaking the law: That it would be up to the court to announce him guilty or not guilty, that this announcement was forth coming- And here he waits on a stool sitting outside the locked door to the courthouse, where the Door-keeper guards. He waits for a very long time, not detained in chains, but free-will waiting! Although he is under arrest-should he go too far, he will be apprehended. He actually is afraid to move, lest that door open, and he misses it! So he wants to be available- He actually waits so long, he loses his job, house, all his money, and now he doesn't even have a dime... He has given the Door-keeper gifts to sway him to his liking, but all he does is smile back at him and keeps him company. Years have passed, he was middle-aged when this issue of breaking the Law came to his attention, now he is an old man! And never once had that door opened, nor was it unlocked, perhaps it was when he was sleeping but...

The Victim:
She saw people praying and using the violence in the name of religion at the same time, while no religion is preaching violence. She understood that this kind of violence was too conflicting for peace, and yet too diplomatic for war. And that violence no solution had; nor never none.
I Will Show You The Punishment Of The Great Prostitute Who Sits On Many Waters:
With a furrowed brow and golden hair she plies her trade, providing comfort to all who shall be redeemed for it is in the depth of a sacred place that the purity of the earth will live forever, scattering heavy thoughts, consecrated mind, a demon seed. So let it flow as it touches the river, obliterate any rock that may appear above the water, gliding ever so gently upon a stream running far in silent stone across a gilded bird.

The Locusts Looked Like Horses, Prepared For Battle With Women's Hair And Breastplates Made Of Iron:
On a savage beast they ride with crowns of gold and teeth like a lion's hide. They are the heathens, the locusts with fair hair that blows, a woman killed in battle and the sound of chariots dancing in their wings like the thundering of horses rushing to a stained glass church. Their faces fierce and breastplates made of iron, in the night looks askew, glimmer, glance, glow, simmer in an irrepressible sight. Into a bleeding heart the irascible saber shall dig in deep, blister and sear, shall there ever be any recourse, a means to address the matter, an option, an alternative, a resource, a fine lass, some place cool, hip, far out, beatific, beatitude again and again

A Dog Returns to Its Vomit, A Sow That Is Washed Goes Back To Wallowing In The Mud:
In a pool of motion and sludge, dried feces and dung, basking in the sun, the rave. For there is no reason to hide what has now become widely known. They have returned to their ways sinking in a drop of kak as the drivel will flow in cobblers, bullocks and tripe. Pure poppycock, bizzo and pants because the claptrap doesn't fizzle when you sip it from a bowl.