The goddess of defense
‘Many armed and muttering sits the cunning queen of war. Never moving from her ivory throne, she catalyses every base and violent impulse that stirs in the veins of poor men and women.
“I am the defender of life!” she shouts “ I am the watchful mother of liberty! When these mantras fail to convince, she shifts tack, and thus;
“I am your tradition, your cultural avatar, I am your national identity embodied”.
Her babbling tirades spill unceasingly from her forked and cruel tongue- bubbling lectures of self-righteous wrath. Yammering and bleating, she poisons debate with lies on tides of empty words from a mouth of hollow teeth. And she spoons from many lands the grim meal of her sustenance; a stinking charred cereal of broken promises, ground from the bones of war–murdered children.
If the wise would learn her dread name, it is written here;
It is ‘NEEDLESS AGGRESSION TOWARDS OTHERS’
The god of Energy
‘There is a god beneath the soil, whose tail rims round the core of earth and ocean. All dead things he chews and vomits, filling up black wells and black veins, which he weaves into the crust. From a spine on his skull, like a demon angler-fish, he hangs a man-shaped lure above ground, to misguide mankind to mine the shell of his poisoned cocoon. He smiles in his caverns as his divine brothers and sisters sing report of progress down pits and tunnels of foul and deadly air to reach his filthy ears
The god of Justice
‘The pot-bellied god is a coward who loves cages. A torturer and slave-master, he brags of strength, firm handedness to drown the constant, craven rumblings of his heaving yellow bowels. Great fortresses and strongholds secure his quivering spirit. Hidden and cloaked he whispers down barred corridors and workshops, where kindness is forbidden by law. Portly, pink and gibbering, masked in chains and uniforms, his spirit walks among his perverted priests in the sunless chambers of his temples. Watery eyed, this god-voyeur, comes quick to scenes of most beastly bondage, and slakes his thirst for human sweat which waters the blind pits of Justice.
The god of Commerce
‘the lord of pigs and vultures sits in an oaken hall. In the assembly of deciding voices, he chants his evil case. He mumbles concern for the poor, recommends the healing balm of markets, free and strong. On his dragon hoard he squats and sows his dragon’s teeth, succouring the greedy seedlings that hatch. Robust and solution-driven he weans them, and instructs them in the language of sin. Competitive! Competitive! His scavenger heralds learn to yell, as they rake through human misery to build their glittering piles’
If you’re trying to get me addicted to poetry, then it’s working.