Created: Saturday, 18 September 2004 Written by Frank BluesIt's in 2 parts. First is the son Theo. Damned to a lonely life preaching his father's faith. And the second part, the crucifying of the father Frank.
Just a cowboy who found god and peyote.... Part 1
In the shack I stared at the door for a long time. I’d get up from the bed, my stretcher. And reach for the table. Start the compressor and wind up the radio.
“each day is a new day, why its a brand new day, a day full of gods grace, possibilities endless like the jews, always there is hope and there is faith..”
and off the radio he’d squeeze his dick for that fluid ounce at least once every 4 hours.
“My lord offers me strength, and the will to what he wants, that is what I’ve been told…
“for when frank was stoned and alone he felt a faith, a healing; there is a god wanting ye, all of ye, no free will, only gods will,… those chickens told him for sure…only god and you, and you to do what you god wants…”
just dust risin’, sun settin’, the big brown bone hard land, and in the shack the solitary Theo twangs the wire…
”I’m the mystery cyclist, cyclin within …”
So they grabbed Frank at the pub.
“Cowboy we are gunna take your blaspheming ass and hang it high!”
Put him on the pony blindfolded and trotted over to the hanging tree.
And the priest said:
“We are gathered here today to hang this heathen cunt high and long. We all know there aint no truth but that writ in the holy bible, but this fuckwit cowboy, high as a kite on peyote, felt like he had to write a new chapter in the lords book. Claimed there were chickens sent by god to tell him the truth by god. Well as jesus said to satan:`get back from thee!’ His lies and abominations no longer can be tolerated. We is born into this world to serve god, not make him up! There is the truth. And that is all there is. The rest is just lies. Lies spewed from satans mouth.
Oh Lord! may this cunt rot in hell. Split his scrotum asunder and let his seed fall on the dark dank ground. Barren and unfulfilled.”
Then they put the rope around Frank’s neck and strung him up on the tree. For him naught but death. But for the god fearing Christian folk there was a kicking and a flailing and then that dark musty smell as Frank’s mess spread out from his pants downwards.