Part One: Gods and Immortals of Morality
Here comes the moment of truth. The fierce battle between the gods and the heavens. For their purpose to be vindicated. Mortals must support their gods without creating enmity with the heavens. And heavens must continue to energize worshippers of the gods, for he was created to give them hope. But mortals want to challenge their gods, questioning at all, the reasons for their battles. They will wish to end their 6000-year mission, careless about its accomplishment. To them, the unseen heavens, with its treasuries and promises are fine. Curse the gods! Praise the heavens are the bitter words from their defiled lips. I am the gods and you are the mortals, you will do just what I say! For the heavens were made to be yours. Sayeth the gods. Woe to you mortals; for my existence is, but uncertain for your future. We love to keep you both but we shall side with no one in this battle. Sayeth the heavens. We the mortals have armor protecting shells, we shall mount them immediately. Mortals replied.
If the dungeons of all species could speak, if the jungles of all the predators could roar at once, if the terrestrials could sing with one melody; pathos of the earth could be sighed. Tiresome super-organisms could be invigorated. For heavens have kept mute, and pieties, repeatedly wallow the same words; their agents have mellowed. Because their artilleries are surrendered. When they were having good days, they didn’t think twice before sharing the same bowls with the prisoners of power. Little did they know about the poisonous crystals in their vessels. Now they seem to wonder because, among them, there are sinister, imposters, liars, fanatics, and betrayers. Worrisome are they, for prisoners of power constantly determine their fate. In their pitiless conundrums, they will trim, for their destinies are destroyed.
But who are you the viewers? Calling yourself a true believer of deists and a proud thumb printer of ballot sheets? How dare you judge the prostitute! Whiles, you are a bastard? You think you are a voice? No! you are nothing but a window, for you are used to determine the validity of the day; in the nights, you shall be closed for their security and secrecy. Heirs of liturgies, shall enclose your brain, for the mouth of the pulpit holders contains venoms; venoms of apocalypse and horror. Venoms of mystics and superstitions. Venoms of deafening and submission. The pathos of your idiotic bliss is the ethos of their impostures. They made you vomit the true aesthetics of breast and butt and forced you to swallow prostitution. Now they are telling you to shun the consequence of super-fornication.
But you are sophisticated and lingering around like a man having his wife in labor. Yet you feel the owners of your food and water are anxious, those prisoners of power, who care less about organisms. You never questioned them when they were giving you papers to survive. You never queried them when they were tilling your gold for your toils. You were happy when they were promising to give you what belong to you. You kept mute when they were sucking your blood; standing comfortably, seeing your veins drained to death. Misery, anguish, and hopelessness. They have rigged your future, and yet you continue to rely on them for your culture. Now you want to know who they really are to you. You seem to be in crisis, but to them is an opportunity; to once again tap into your critical faculties, to once again make your thumbs ready for them, to once again seal your fate.
In the meantime, we have to start repudiating. Leaving no cathedral or mosque, even shrines, unsanctioned, leaving no principalities unquestioned; Bishops, Clergies, Rabbis, Imams, Ayatollahs. There will be no dignitaries in the court of reasoning, for while impunity is at work, austerity has passed its judgment. They have leaned on a shaky ladder for long. Their moment has arrived, and all their strength must be unleashed, for the waiting skeptics to see. Their powers and prowess, though delicate and demoralized, must surge with high velocity with muscular refineries. And the legal faculties, which protect our oppressors have found themselves wanting.
How do we then amass cultural strength? How do we probe the dignitaries? Aren’t we subjected to their credos? Haven’t we defied our own maxims with their dogmas? Are we not done blaspheming? And gone morally far from holiness? Are we not the invaders to our own sacredness? Turning sacrilegious acts into funfairs?
Casting our eyes to the mountains, readying our minds for the pure transcendence, the imagination seems defiled; for those who preached to us are reaching to us, for a successful dinner with the companions of Satan. They aren’t done demonizing our grannies; victimizing our families. They aren’t done collecting the panties of our siblings in temples; extorting their money, shutting their minds with fear. They rape our younger damsels, and bed their mums in hotels; whiles screwing up the lives of our fathers. Their sodomy cases are stockpiled. Their hands are full of blood; because they are genocidal charged primates and orchestral lords of wars and bloodshed. They strike us with demonic waves to shut our thoughts. Aggrandizing themselves with pseudo-scientific rubbishy divinities. The pulpits and the altars are the tools for their immunity. But now, they are radiating.
Hail to the prince of the kingdom of the Holy Spirit. Peace be unto the speaker of the Lion of Judah. Your Majesty the God’s servant; daringly prove your innocence of the abominations of the earth and live longer! The source of our comforts, and solitude. Arbiters of our moral maxims, sorcerers of our destinies and agents of our salvation, and the anointers of the Most High indeed!
You poor congregants, for how long will you close your eyes for your children to get raped, tortured, and disgraced in the mind by unsanctified doctrines? For how long will you wait for your moral impetus, inwardly dented to unleash the humane in you be distorted and caricatured by unsettled dogmas? You are bound to suffer inward indifference. You were destined to inculcate abominations. You were trained to consume absurdities. Now the time has come to call upon your heavens. The time has come to pay the price of your orchestrated insanities. You were sitting amusedly behind your televisions when your godmothers were preaching porn. You were shutting your doors when your pastors were teaching how to be prostituted in bed. You still call those who give you pornographic technics celebrities. Now you think the unthinkable has come?
You never reported to anyone when your mouth was forced to jerk him off in the counseling room. You’re still keeping mute because you understand the behavior of the Holy Spirit towards His anointed ones. Dumb! Chewers of foreskins, for how long do you think your lips will be sanctified to be fit to proclaim the forthcomings of God’s wrath? In your age where labia have become so edible to your appetite, do you still think your tongue has a share in the echoes of His angels? Sexual fantasizers, why make noise? Prisoners of dildos, will you also join the crusade? You poor users of vibrators, why open your legs for electrons and radiations and still think you can judge the nature distorters? Why beg to be at the mercies of soaps, lubricants, toys, and pillows; grieving on the shoulders of your sperms, and still think it will be today that the heavens will descend?
You never questioned why your tissue quickly gets finished at the demands of your sexual hormones and yet you think you can stop some pitiful adults from using pampers?
Heirs of abominations are now preaching morality. Pity! Seekers of greed and hate want to proclaim sainthood. Prisoners of pornography, erotic maniacs and hunters of sex have been called solemnly by their mystically created almighty to echo some apocalyptic warnings to all mankind. Their heated rotten canals can’t vibrate them. But they are mere mammals, destined to commune with primates. Among them are sleeping preachers who had kissed the goddess of evil and had raped the gods of abominations. They have threatened the city of Atlantis, defied the oracles of Poseidon, and are now pledging to take off the curses of the people by killing the minotaur. It is as mysterious as the tower of Babel, with it riddles like that of Delphic oracle’s. The enigma to fight is as vague as the Athenian gods. Nothing to think, difficult to reason, and impossible to understand.
Now they are on the verge to reclaim the truth. To keep the proclamation of doctrines and sanity to their follies. But it shall never be well with them. Because they are ill in spirit. In their hearts, they are filled with reptilian creatures. Physically, they are tortured by fungi of sex. Vainly are they in minds. Screwed they are in physique. Nothing seems raw to their taste. While they inhale the perfumes of barbaric sodomy, the smokes of their orgy erotics, steam their faces. They are bodies without spirit, minds without soul, eyes without sights. Useless! For the time has come for their jejunity to be exposed. Their complacency has not been worthwhile. Now the ashes of scrutiny will debase the firestorms they called from the heavens. They aren’t relied on genes, because their generation is full of sins and gogs. In their churches, they harbor treacheries and scums. They are pretending as if the most abominable is about to happen. But in their baneful discourse, they have held several openings and welcoming ceremonies for abhorrence and anathema. Their secret cults have woefully been defiled, scattered, and deposed.
Anxiously hooking around to seek refuge. Waiting for their divinities to outrage. As they keep their eyes on the so-called apocalyptic battle to unfold; the prisoners of power have opened their arms but for a few moments for them to keep mellowing.
Torn between legalities and cultural nuances. Voraciously paranoid with constitutional swellings. Their unhealed wounds have crippled their ambitions and wishes. Their arrogant spree, greed, foolishness, and insanities have demoralized their existence. Inwardly useless, outwardly noisy. Now they are appealing to the emotional proxies of the helplessly used and neglected people to resent on the victims of their supposed abominations; to rain violence on their surge and to marginalize their freedom. But it will soon turn to their own vulgarities. The abominable tags will soon reach equilibrium because fornication and sexual distortions buffer. Those who have kissed, fondled and squeezed vipers must tell us why they can’t share the same cup with pythons.