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There’s a woman I know, lives ‘neath an apple tree.
She deprives young people of their sexuality.
She tells them they’ll go blind, or even lose their minds
If they touch themselves in places where the pleasure is free.
Dark Mother, why do you hate your children so?
You think that you’re so holy, that you’re on God’s side.
But in the final reckoning, you’re the devil’s bride.
Her wicked sisters, the candle queens, decide what is, and what is not obscene.
But “In the beginning was the Deed”, leads to a very different creed.
Confusion over outer/inner, who the saint and who the sinner.
And who the ambiguous beginner.
Now if we take a little look, at the end of Stephen Hawking’s book
Is he just being an arrogant sod, when he says we might know the mind of God?
“Don’t worry son, it’s already known”, sing the dreaded God-squad, pompous drone.
“Don’t screw young girls, don’t screw your mother, you’d better not even screw your lover.
Studiously avoid all these black holes, it’s the surest way to save your soul.”
“And don’t use condoms”, adds the Pope. “Use the rhythm method, just wait and hope”.
Yet consenting adults do the strangest things, with oranges and bits of string.
And some catholic priests treat little boys, as if they were their little toys.
Caning, spanking, domination, the maids are French, the dogs Alsatian.
The parties are swinging, the sports are water,
I’m sure you wouldn’t let your daughter, take O and A levels in the kind of school
Where Madame Whiplash makes the rules.
Dark Mother, why do you hate your children so?
You think that you’re so holy, that you’re on God’s side.
But in the final reckoning, you’re the devil’s bride
The swamp swallows up unsuspecting souls.
No light emerges from black holes.
The spider queen rules, so wild cats prowl.
The pond is stagnant, and the stench is foul.
Mad dogs howl, and snakes are hissing.
Dragons roar, but St. George has gone missing.
Hercules tamed the wild mares.
Perseus conquered Medusa’s stare.
Jonah escaped the giant whale,
Could you also live to tell the tale?
In my heart of hearts I trust,
That God does not despise our lust.
Christians await the return of the Lord.
I await the coming of the three of swords.