Creep-O-Rama Poem by B. Sven Telander

In the land where
the ugly people played
with big toys there
and shat upon
the grandeur blessed them,
when the savages soured
and the sirens were sounded,
woe betide the pig raging
conviction riddled horde
that would dare to defile again.
Hackles were raised high
and compromises made
so fat oblivious children
can play with the toy of a world,
where crazies of faith love
with bomb and sword,
in old carnivorous cycle
of humanities demise,
chewing at the cud trough
in long knaw of
meat, bone, ’n blood,
to die for the cause
and rut for the lord,
fuque for the buque,
join the punch in the gut club
for the greater good of the team
and hunt for the dumb
blunted chumps who’d say no,
make ‘em stay on the page,
on knees and obey,
to learn to crave
what is served
with beg and grovel,
and disdain for dissent,
with primal need to be led
like cow to the hammer
in slaughter house heaven.