Means Without End: A Paroxysm of Praxis

A casual stroll through the lunatic asylum shows that faith does not prove anything. Nietzsche

Saturday, November 04, 2006

I Corinthians 1:18-29

Through the confusion
You see an illusion:
In this world, of sex and leprosy;
God never said a word to me-
Your Eternal Soul,
reduced to flesh in disease
Run the race alone
between
the
soil and the sky
An echoing silence
to answer your cries;
I have one question to ask Him,
I know I've only got so much time…

Went out in the desert,
dragged myself through Hell,
Bent every muscle,
every nerve
to the cause
Only to come face to face with:

Everyone gets what they deserve,
Every gets their just deserts
Everyone gets what they want
Everyone's going to die
God wants some suffering,
God hates your lies
God grinds under heel when you try to survive
"So relieved to discover God loves you?"
Nailed to the cross of your hate for this life-
That's your faith?
Do you feel deserted?
You dragged yourself through Hell,
Believed in every word,
But in Death
Only come face to face with
Yourself.

The Kingdom of Heaven is Flesh,
To the ends of the earth and no more;
Every shudder,
every shivering night
Until the maggots come to carry you home
When your heroes are slaughtered
Your lovers are raped, in this world of shit:
No one gets out alive,
no escape
It's not hard to believe, is it…
That in death you will be Saved?
I Went out in the desert
Dragged myself through Hell
I have a growing suspicion
That there's no secret to tell

Reap what you sow
in blood red sex
Deathblood red and needle tracks
As your illusions kick the last nail in
You plead for mercy
Plead to just stop wanting
(But I)
Once waited to return to claw
Now transfigured in the fire I pray:
If nothing else is left for me,
To exalt in pain
I choose to bleed
To bleed

Born again O
ut in the desert
Walking in God's steps;
Whispered the secret to me-
Silence as sure as death
Knocking at Kafka's gate
I only come face to face with
Myself.

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