Let me show you the latest trends.
White, white and white.
White is the beginning, and the end.
We’ll mix it up with ecru,
eggshell, ivory,
some cream, or light beige,
perhaps a  grey on pearl tapestry.
Color’s so last decade,
and black so last year.
White is what’s now and what’s here.
I know some good painters–
the price won’t be too dear.
Throw out your carpeting,
and your upholstery.
I’ll set you up with my people–
of course it’s not free.

Your artwork must go.
Just throw it all out
or donate to Goodwill.
And your Black Lab as well.
Get two white Toy Poodles;
everyone will know you’ve got oodles
of money. Because you’re hip to the latest trends.
And we’re sure it will impress your friends.

I wonder now
Did Job's wife speak
The Devil's words,
"Curse God and die"?

Was Job's test the culmination,
The diabolical, canny ending,
The checkmate of temptation
To end the human nation?

"Curse God and Die."
These words give thinkers chills.
The brutal question, "Why?"
Faith-stifling word that kills.

Job's friends, his wife, his circumstance,
Combined his wounds to salt;
In misery, he sought the Lord, to stand,
And prove his misery was not his fault.

Job knelt before the Lord at last,
In yielding he found life;
For him, the test was passed;
But what about Job's wife?

Your time is now over.
Your death will be slow,
and cruel.
A vulture picks
at the corpse of a fool.

When greed is worshipped,
all compassion fails.
Dogs eat dogs
and chase their own tails.

No one reads books.
No one understands law.
Might becomes right
and all succumb to their deepest flaw.

**** is entertainment,
and fantasy, addiction.
Degradation is beauty,
and cruelty, conviction.

The sun is now setting
on the city dying
Darkness begins
under a red moon rising

Watched the Lord come to the garden.
Heard the Voice call softly, “Adam.”
In anticipation, licked his lips,
Felt shivers in his snake-ish hips.

Still no movement from the bushes;
Human forms still held their breath;
Chortling serpent, breathless, waited
In the garden where came death.

am I an observer
or a participator,
this life, a reel or real
am I whole, or partial?
this is all surreal
are we living
or watching time spill
doing nothing
rotating in this cosmic realm,
starting where we started,
ending where we end,
rolling the rock up the mountain
watching it fall
traveling back up again.
what is the deal?
we know the prison,
let's dig up the tunnel.


am I a spectator,
or a perpetrator,
this death, a dream or dire,
am I fractured, or entire?
this is all infernal,
are we decaying,
or watching shadows crawl,
doing something,
descending into this chthonic realm,
starting where we're buried,
ending where we're born,
our remains part of the earth,
watching it crumble,
crawling back down again.
what is the ordeal?
we know the freedom,
Are we combusting chemical?

Left! Right! Left! Right!
You go left, I turn right.
Zombies heed grotesque oration,
Mocking nature’s grand creation.

From the left, a clown is preaching,
Soon a brighter world beseeching.
On the right, a jester’s vision
Guards traditions with precision.

Politics—a foolish play,
Few can see through its display.
Both the red-haired puppets’ gold
Feeds the farce that’s bought and sold.

Genocide’s decree is clear,
Carried out by vermin here.
Change the puppet—same old game,
For the beasts remain the same.


In Russian:

Буффонада левых и правых партий

Левой! Правой! Левой! Правой!
Ты налево, я направо:
Зомби слушают уродов,
Что противно всей Природе.

Слева клоун ложь вещает —
Счастье вскоре обещает.
Правый шут блюдёт традиции.
Тот иль этот в оппозиции.

Вот политика тупая.
Только единицы знают,
Что одна у рыжих касса,
Коль отринуть все прикрасы.

Циркуляры геноцида
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