all in its pseudo-maldororesque glory.
the first attempt at anything post-sword of angst.
written between ca 22:00 - 02:00, july 30-31, 2020.
"THE SLUT CATTLE"
Yes! Down with its cart and off with its plough;
to become neutered all cattle must!
Because deep from the tripe of a hideous cow,
its throat coughs but vapours of dust!
And gaze down the hole of the tubular tract
of the beast-stinking, astrobleme anus;
Devoid of faeces, like some Rome it is sacked,
But from there drip semen - how heinous!
With tar in their veins and salt on their tongues,
their stomachs are barren, no womb;
called by the kulning, with soot in their lungs,
in tethers toward an abbatoir tomb!
These horrible sins! This veneral crime,
the keenness to experience flesh!
And astray they were lost in Bachanallian grime -
how easily scars open afresh!
The spaying, while gross, of the slut-cattle starts
as sentenced, to much sob and whelm;
the cow-bells are silenced! And soon, no more carts
will travel the roads of our realm!
And mighty the King of the Oxen reveals,
its fur; reddish, beautiful, coarse;
and mighty, its sermons, its passions and zeals,
to all destitute cattle-fuck whores!
The salt has been licked but the oxen still rape,
the pasture succumbed to a war!
the dung is fermenting while ground and hill quake,
the earth purged with blood and manure!
In wanton revealed, with pleasure obsessed
the cows rest, so bloated and full;
anointed, crowned prince, martyred and blessed
by the dung of the Bonnacon bull...
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