The Project

In the shark's jaws,
In the pig's trough,
Down the gullet,
Out the ass,
Mysterious celestial
Winds roar.
 
Solar breezes, teased
By reluctant Lunar urges,
Remind us of pretentious
Park benches, empty at
Long last.
 
Blood is spilt,
Wine flows free,
As drunkards
Die of thirst.
 
Assassins and Heroes
Wrestle for the laurels,
Kiss desperately one
Last time.
Spectators prepare for
The worst.
 
Scriptures are skipped.
Mantras merely muttered.
And a pedophile priest
Receives a sacred shiv
Down in cell block "C".
 
It is clear; God needs a
Make-over.
Lucifer will do the make-up.
Pazuzu will pick out the duds.
 
Heaven is in a fashion revolt.
Demons nip and tuck.
Angels duck and cover.
The mind fades back into
Shadow,
Naked, pristine, and alone.
The halcyon dark gently smiles,
Unruffled by a single ripple.