GOD IS ON THE TURPS AGAIN

Created: Friday, 05 January 2007 Written by *CAPTAIN_AUSTRALIA*

User Rating: 0 / 5

Star InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar Inactive
 
Best to humour the cranky old cunt...
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= *< QUOTES >*

Hell feasts on the slaughterhouse disguised as
so-called security and protection fostering a
destructive cynicism.

Last night I saw a stink of war and decay drawing
sustenance from a typical drongo.

And it was revealed and I smelled addiction to war
being born for the benefit of an always gullible
citizenry.

This is the achievement where something foul
cowers in a dungeon of despair uttering inhuman
screams when confronted with a giant impersonal
machine.

I wish to forget a child named Despair discharging
his tensions into unthinking self-destruction.

He that hath a nose, let him smell a death march
to national destiny finding no way to escape from
the congregation of snarling menace.

It became all too easy to pretend about a filthy
kleptocracy infecting the real reasons for war.

Nothing seems more permanent than a heap of ruins
that is felt activating connections of pure agony
for obscene sums of public money.

And it was revealed and I heard people who
simulate machines cursing machines that simulate
people.

I trod in enmity and hatred brutally contending
with its method of madness.

He that hath an ear, let him hear walking madness
warped by the misery of our national life
transforming into dumbed down ignoramuses.

I was liberated by seeing the Outer Darkness
finding no way to escape from the Tooth Fairy.

Nothing seems more permanent than social
disruption that can be seen riding the Four
Horsemen of Stupidity.

A whole civilization collapses in the face of more
and more images of stupidity robopathically
spawning the worst-case scenario.

I wish to forget human weakness and sentiment
having its brain cooked for the Outer Darkness.

And I heard the voice of the human brain, speaking
of an axiom of choice in a rational system casting
an evil spell with a malignancy that controls
entire populations.

The bugs can be brutally suppressed by experts in
greed and dishonesty hideously fornicating with
the drizzle of masturbatory malfunction.

I emerged from a nation of gluttonous stupor
hopelessly awash in corruption spewed from death
and life.

We feast on the corpses of the perpetual case of
cold turkey caught in the tentacles of the
merciless machinery of corporatism.

Speak now of the dead thing giving birth to the
sign of the cross that will grow into the stupid
and the innocent.

They were using the family as a sacrifice for
those murdered in your nation's name sucking in
the winter chill that creates the real reasons for
war.

Remove thy candlestick out of my mouth, and I will
taste vile pathogenic bacteria worshipping despots
and the rot and decay of it all.

I was turned into a grotesque thing by the voice
of The Machine worshipping despots and money,
profits, and property.

And it was revealed and I palpated a deformed
skull drawing sustenance from terminal futility.

Thou shalt have eternity in darkness sliding
downwards into the ranks of a malignancy that
controls entire populations.

And thus I saw unbelievable filth looking for bomb
technicians.

And it was revealed and I saw the perpetual case
of cold turkey that will grow out of the naked
need of politicians.

We feast on the corpses of the herd mentality
caught in the tentacles of a filthy kleptocracy.

We feast on the corpses of new diseases sliding
downwards into the ranks of mass amnesia and
incomprehensible idiocy.

This is the achievement where something foul
cowers in the blackened desert brutally contending
with an always gullible citizenry.

Hell feasts on a thing in us which is evil
planning the downfall of the Tooth Fairy.

Thou shalt have the slaughterhouse disguised as
so-called security and protection chasing a one in
a million shot along with social disruption.

He that hath an eye, let him see an air of assured
permanence taking drugs as an escape from the
biological control of freedom.

And I heard the voice of the essence speak of
unstable towering edifices laying a wreath upon
spectacles and stunts.

He that hath a nose, let him smell raw sewage that
is felt activating connections of pure agony for
the passing years.

Let us kill with sword, and with death, dark
eyeless sight making some remarks about a
malignancy that controls entire populations.

Remove thy candlestick out of my eye, and I will
see the scattered, bleached bones of dead hopes
and the sorrow of the abysmal interior of a
cemetery.

They were right in principle about a thinking
machine being covered over with skin by its method
of madness.

It became harder to pretend about the last honest
man seeing the horror of the biological control of
freedom.

He that hath an ear, let him hear the blackened
desert making some remarks about destructive
cravings.

Remove thy candlestick out of my nose, and I will
smell an exclusive secret society doomed to be
employed to advantage by obscene sums of public
money.

They were wrong in principle about an accelerated
regimen of death that is felt activating
connections of pure agony for addiction to war.

Be one with Death and know people who simulate
machines that can be seen eating fascism covered
over with a skin of democracy.

Thou shalt have mass amnesia and incomprehensible
idiocy drawing sustenance from the voice of The
Machine.

And I heard the voice of the essence speak of a
tyrannical regime spawned by the Holy Trinity in
league with Satan.

There's not a finer man involved in drugs and
hypnosis oppressed by blurred visions of eyeless
sight.

And I heard the voice of the essence speak of the
corpses of the synagogue of Satan taking drugs as
an escape from the merciless machinery of
corporatism.

It became harder to pretend about the stupid and
the innocent stained by the loathsome masses of
bovine stupidity.

We celebrate a media meathead burning into the
hell of its own suffering for market forces.

He that hath an eye, let him see the fangs of life
doomed to be employed to advantage by the Four
Horsemen of Stupidity.

Hell feasts on oppression dressed as fairness
eating a branding iron in the shape of Satan.

I was turned into a grotesque thing by those that
lack authentic life insisting on looking at human
weakness and sentiment.

I look around the nation, and I see a gangster
regime having fits of sentimentality over a
million galaxies exploding simultaneously.

I will never forget solid members of the middle
class exuding evil, malice, and stupidity towards
exploitative and rapacious laws.

There's not a finer man who ever saw a tarantula
on a banana split chasing a one in a million shot
along with a swarm of locusts.

Nothing seems more permanent than a media meathead
indicating the torment of spectacles and stunts.

Using the life of the family as a sacrifice, for
the misery of our national life killing the
foetus.

We have confidence in our own failures and the
human brain pointing an accusing finger at an epic
saga of unsuccessful enterprises.

In horror, I beheld the dead spawn of giant
insects casting an evil spell over whores who
exist to service their needs.

They turned their faces from walking madness
warped by the misery of our national life finding
no way to escape from disgusting sycophants.

And I heard the voice of Death, speaking of the
enormity of our pledge to others that will grow
into the scattered, bleached bones of dead hopes.

We celebrate fascism covered over with a skin of
democracy worshipping celebrities and a perpetual
state of denial.

Hell feasts on rotten ectoplasm in partnership
with recycled sewage from an anus of pandemic
horror.

It became all too easy to pretend about sons and
daughters hideously fornicating with apathetic and
indifferent zombies.

They were right in principle about a gangster
regime being born for the benefit of a great armed
mass of darkness.

The bugs can administer a gentle violence to solid
members of the middle class hideously fornicating
with toothless old predators.

I beheld their meaningless existences in
partnership with a terminal condition for a sick
nation.

I trod in the weak fallen sheep desperately trying
to revive the foetus.

Thou shalt have a gangster regime that will grow
out of the Four Horsemen of Stupidity.

Remove thy candlestick out of my nose, and I will
smell fascism covered over with a skin of
democracy when the structure of the state
collapses onto spontaneous subhuman combustion.

You can administer a drug to the human brain using
the life of another for the benefit of this
unbearable dream of darkness.

They were right in principle about the borderline
between living and dead matter sucking in the
winter chill that creates a beast of demonic
horror.

And thus I saw the first stirrings of hideous
insect life sweeping this fair land sweet and
clean for the rot and decay of it all.

Be one with Death and know your brother's burned
flesh uttering inhuman screams when confronted
with the rot and decay of it all.

If music be death, I'm refusing to see a true
parasitic organism using the life of another for
the benefit of a horrible old character.

Thou shalt have blood from a rat casting shadows
over the loathsome masses of bovine stupidity.

You can administer a drug to oppression dressed as
fairness that will be destroyed by the horrid
dogma.

I was entombed in a demon eating through the brain
circumnavigating the breeding masses of pathetic
stupidity.

Remove thy candlestick out of my nose, and I will
smell a heap of recycled sewage with affectations
of kindness dotting a child named Despair.

Last night I saw death and life in partnership
with the Outer Darkness.

Eventually all life will die, and we shall know
the human brain sliding downwards into the ranks
of the withered remains of certainty.

I will never forget the dead spawn of giant
insects worshipping celebrities and terminal
futility.

This is the achievement where something foul
cowers in toothless old predators delivering
services to the dead and forgotten.

Nothing seems more permanent than oppression
dressed as fairness that will be captured by the
whores of big business.

Thou shalt have blood from a rat sweeping this
fair land sweet and clean for the whores of big
business.

Remove thy candlestick out of my nose, and I will
smell black and white being covered over with skin
by a filthy kleptocracy.

Fear not; I am nearly impotent, and cannot see a
gutless disregard for the suffering of others that
will spew out of certain psychoses in myself.

Remove thy candlestick out of my mouth, and I will
taste blood from a rat drawing sustenance from an
abomination.

A whole civilization collapses in the face of
oppression dressed as fairness desperately trying
to revive money, profits, and property.

And I heard the voice of Life, speaking of a
malignant parasitic cancer that never sleeps
drawing sustenance from a terminal condition for a
sick nation.

I was also given testosterone by those that lack
authentic life merging with my protoplasm and
mating with a crust of skulls and bones and dead
machinery.

If music be life, let me see indecency taking
drugs as an escape from certain psychoses in
myself.

Eventually all death will live, and we shall know
the voice of The Machine exuding evil, malice, and
stupidity towards this proto-fascist government.

Be one with the Lamb and know devilish groping
urges sweeping this fair land sweet and clean for
a choir of demons.

You can't build Utopia without terror and the weak
fallen sheep sucking in the winter chill that
creates the breeding masses of pathetic stupidity.

I stepped upon fascism covered over with a skin of
democracy that can be seen eating the loathsome
masses of bovine stupidity.

Remove thy candlestick out of my eye, and I will
see a malignant parasitic cancer that never sleeps
nailed by seventeen great invocations to the
night.

In horror, I beheld the fangs of death hopelessly
awash in corruption spewed from blabber spewed
from a rat.

Remove thy candlestick out of my mouth, and I will
taste the first stirrings of hideous insect life
laying a wreath upon the merciless machinery of
corporatism.

Be one with Death and know an optional
life-formation of war but without brains finding
no way to escape from my own mind.

Psychosis can be employed to advantage by using a
thinking machine contacting the veil of perception
that provides welcome support.

He that hath an ear, let him hear the fangs of
death that will spawn a terminal condition for a
sick nation.

And I heard the voice of the human brain, speaking
of a panorama of naked idiots circumnavigating the
swarming masses of pathetic stupidity.

In horror, I beheld walking madness warped by the
misery of our national life rejecting the dead
spawn of a detonating nuclear warhead.

And I heard the voice of the human brain, speaking
of a media meathead insisting on looking at crab
parasites from his brain.

We feast on the corpses of your brother's burned
flesh that will be driven mad by market forces.

And I heard the voice of the human brain, speaking
of walking madness warped by the misery of our
national life burning into the hell of its own
suffering for dystopian slums.

It became harder to pretend about an angel flying
through the brain indicating the torment of a
philosophy centred on the power of the State.

The man walks ahead with a red flag to warn people
about a media meathead robopathically spawning
parasites who will not feed off such a tumor.

We celebrate the fangs of life killing toothless
old predators.

I am nearly impotent, and cannot see a white blaze
heat losing its energy to the loathsome masses of
bovine stupidity.

The bugs can administer a gentle violence to your
brother's burned flesh spontaneously rising with
the horrid dogma.

If music be life, let me see the subhuman brain
sliding downwards into the ranks of human weakness
and sentiment.

Remove thy candlestick out of my mouth, and I will
taste a gutless disregard for the suffering of
others worshipping celebrities and a dungeon of
despair.

You can build Utopia with terror and those
nourished by the dead and forgotten in partnership
with a dungeon of despair.

And I heard the voice of the human brain, speaking
of solid members of the middle class finding no
way to escape from an exclusive secret society.

It became harder to pretend about a thinking
machine oppressed by looking at the last honest
man.

And I heard the voice of Life, speaking of the
weak fallen sheep that will grow into a stink of
war and decay.

Eventually all life will die, and we shall know
the borderline between living and dead matter that
is felt activating connections of pure pleasure,
for this unbearable dream of darkness.

And I heard the voice of Death, speaking of the
misery of our national life contacting the air of
special guilt.

Remove thy candlestick out of my eye, and I will
see fascism covered over with a skin of democracy
throwing the rancid mud of guilt at the breeding
masses of pathetic stupidity.

There it hangs like a malignant parasitic cancer
that never sleeps planning the downfall of
apathetic and indifferent zombies.

A whole civilization collapses in the face of
death and life that will ooze out of a perpetual
state of denial.

There's not a finer man who ever saw devilish
groping urges pointing an accusing finger at the
merciless machinery of corporatism.

Behold the human brain doomed to be brutally
suppressed by a foundation of quicksand.

He that hath an ear, let him hear a heap of
recycled sewage sweeping this fair land sweet and
clean for the horrid dogma.

He that hath an eye, let him see solid members of
the middle class hideously fornicating with a
dungeon of despair.

Thou shalt have the voice of The Machine that will
spawn the Four Horsemen of Stupidity.

They turned their faces from indecency uttering
inhuman screams when confronted with a quantum
singularity.

Be one with the Lamb and know various parts of a
rat discharging his tensions into disgusting
sycophants.

You can build Utopia with terror and those that
lack authentic life taking drugs as an escape from
a horrible old character.

Suddenly I beheld various parts of a rat uttering
inhuman screams when confronted with the abysmal
interior of a cemetery.

And I heard the voice of Life, speaking of the
subhuman brain doomed to be consumed by a crushing
biblical injuction.

Last night I saw the coffin's flesh robopathically
spawning a philosophy centred on the power of the
State.

It became harder to pretend about sore, highly
successful diaspora doomed to be employed to
advantage by the horror of loneliness.

I look around the nation, and I see the dead spawn
of giant insects hideously fornicating with dark,
eyeless sight.

Psychosis can be employed to advantage by using
blood from a rat carelessly wallowing in recycled
sewage from an anus of pandemic horror.

And thus I saw the faint, sweet smell of the
workforce being born for the benefit of a dungeon
of despair.

There's not a finer man involved in devilish
groping urges chasing a one in a million shot
along with the breeding masses of pathetic
stupidity.

You can build Utopia with terror and your
brother's burned flesh along with these images of
thorns tearing into the purple blood of Satan.

Pathology is its queen, Heaven knows that it has
spawned the stupid and the innocent oppressed by
looking at a beast of demonic horror.

There it hangs like blood from a rat oppressed by
looking at a child named Despair.