Sickness & Health

“Nigger”, we snigger; “Jew”, we sneeze;
hate is borne on a gentle breeze;
then swastikas crawl and blister our walls;
then cataracts shatter our bright windowpanes;
and seizures rupture our delicate streets
with nausea, bleeding, fire and pain.

“I lay my wriggling flames in vengeance;
my sticky nits are grown-up’s lies;
my bubos are bibles of hail and darkness;
through death and division, I multiply”.

But
love is
our natural
meme of immunity;
love soothes, coagulates and heals;
fixes the shattered spine of our apathy;
love now; feel love now; feel.

“My hissing cynics’ll sell you snake-oil;
my klonvocating goose-steppers;
my eye-swapping quacksalvers
and flag-flapping land-grabbers
with love speeches sell leeches
and desperate cures;
Abramelins of Hamelin
with squeaks and drums of war
who’ll march your children
to the river ”.

But love is a genuine cure
love is the real Sangreal;
come with us now through the perilous chapel;
we’re particles of Parsifal;
we’re precious cells in Purusha’s hand;
or the spinning wheel in his pineal gland;
Pan-gu’s tangled ch’i channeling wires
or the semen of Atum or the atoms of Gaia,
twigs of Yggdrasil or Sephirot;
that hate makes ill; uproots and rots.