Bene Traitor

 

I

Penetrate, Penetrate, let thy ears bleed, contemplate;

press the lewd-speeker full volume, let me scream.

On screen, on stage – to choke yet another faith!

I don't want to rate your sir Francis Tate, Hate;

just sleight of hand, for the smoking rot-stream:

can you hear me loosen all colours, Curry bean Dreams;

fighting for my attention spasm to Bene Trait armalite!

II

Benedicting the scions who're addicted to teen-spirits;

but grunge is too Emo, so you had to choose another blues.

Punks on steam, roaming around Harayuku, teesprings;

then the I-chings raise chihuahuas in Gucci for Mr. Gringe.

Let me steal your Christmas, the Spirit of Communism rues,

“Where hath all the precincts gone, what has them crude?”

Nobody under-Stans, nobody Understrand, follow the Kirin.

III

How many copies can you carbon emit for Elmyra Mentalist;

stoak the flames, for the labour day, as I clean my cock'n'balls!

There's a thorn in your side, like St. Paul, the demon to fist

your eyes, feast your minds on this lullaby of a Whiteraven digest.

More raving madman rantings, even Isayah can't stand in galls;

Ingalls had to close down shop at Little House in the Prairie stalls!

Charles was the best Father, you could ever dream come as a Priest!!

IV

All the World is Full of His Honour, Holy, Moly, Golly – the response;

whenever you down Bama and Ariel, who askew to bother El Shaddai!

All the cups and shards of China, shall be filled; entranced –

with the finest wines Burgogne ever offended to Jean D'arc en Manse;

fire the witch stakes, for its time to hunt some inquisitors Rabbi;

who is ready for the Wild Hunt, to clap my other cheek, daddy?

For War; Famine and Death are closing in, Conflict needs to trounce!