An Old Man Finally Replies To His Critics.
In curly smokes, young ones laze and dream,
Singing slurred songs that smell of swine filth;
On alien beds with substances grim
(Parasites wielding suckers with stealth),
Their fluids and minds get both mauled and soiled;
Some strive to leave but each move is foiled.
Gigantic pigs and dogs with big tits
Are now being raised by circles we crowned;
The standard foods are milks from these beasts
And all dissenters are gagged and bound.
The beasts are law, and are now as gods;
Aye, Temple Cops move about with rods!
You see all these, and yet you do say,
‘That guy’s humour died with his black hair.
He does see night when it is yet day;
He and dread gloom are a constant pair.’
Blind men do smile when the wise men cry!
To stay in hot oil, a fish must die.
The rules to rule us are born of scrolls
Of gurus of dark and mystic ways
Whom the wise know wither went theirs souls
For we have proof more real than sun rays.
‘Do believe me,’ says The Great Guru,
‘And you won’t die' – and his words are true.