The Scourge of God

These poetic ailments
Of non descriptive nature
Debase the inspiration
Aesthetics suffer through negation
Words are but words
Even when lost in translation
I vy a why for their scriptures
Asinine burdens, fake damnations
Undeveloped still
Pose a corpse for their bloodletting
A choice of martyrs if you will
Unquestionable, it's themselves they seem to kill
Now wrath is up for grabs
Unholy cults are cursing your ass!
From the waist you are gut
A stream of blood
Satisfies the religious slut/nut

We are the nails through your flesh!
We are the horns of distress!
We are the black blood that feeds the dogs!
You're outwilled and outnumbered;
We are legion!
The scourge of your God!

Written 31-03-2006