Chalk Face

A chalk face

Of a dead son of god

Reflects on a blank stare

Of his dead servants

Populating this deceived necropolis

That still thinks it lives

Let all sons

Of our inhumane father

Claim rights for a synthetic chalk face-on

As ancestors

Of the black art and worse

Give-aways for a swine head

No son of god has missed

A chance for earthly love

No son has ever missed a chance

For love with daughters of Eve

...or those of the first wife of Adam

A chalk face

Of a dead son of god

Blushed with pious for taste of blood

And sweat

And semen and passion

Behind the kiss of the one he adorned

If you'll be his servants

Then let us celebrate

The first and the only true

Christian marriage

Of a prohet and a prostitute

No son of god has missed

A chance for rebellion

No son has even missed a chance

For rising against his father

...and not refute the gospel of truth to hank

As reminded of when we are drunk

Of thick smell of love

Panting passages of arcane hours

In our high mass in the dark

And a choir of latex-nuns

Exalts to crescendo before

Languid embrace of dawning revelations

Three art race of QBL

And of angels fallen

And of witchery and sword

And of Tartarean abodes

Night, unknown, chaos