Oh heavy burden of the cross! I thank thee Lord for your blood, those torrents of flesh torn from your bones. I have been ravished by sin, and yet you ransomed your skin for my smallest molecule, and still redeemed me clean. I will never repay those parched scarlet lips that tasted the vinegar infused wine, and Lord I want to drink from your pure presence. I am your slave for life, I am your slave, master. I can feel the splinters run up my spine like spiders, hang me next to you Lord. Nail me to your heart with iron nails, so that when you speak the Holy Name of God, I might hear his perfect still voice. I am a slave to you Jesus. I'd give everything to wash your feet with my bare hands.
This is a prayer I wrote, hope you enjoy it.
At the rally we had Weird Hair Night, where the students fashioned their hair, gelled it in abnormal angles, and sprayed it with seemingly endless quantities of chemicals. Some students did not want to have their hair fashioned, however, this was not their choice to decide. And in a true Republic, that is a Socialist community, one must conform to the ideals of the whole. As for artists, I see no escape for expression when the rights of the individual are sacrificed for the general well being of the populace. This ideal, whether it was openly versed among us or not, was at the core of our mob hunts for students who remained obstinate to our practices. Some squirmed, squiggled and fought their ways out of our grasps, but were eventually made to submit. Here are the post-mortem pictures of our victims after their hair was cruelly thrust into artistic angles. I am more than obliged to share these specimen with you. Enjoy
And here is your writer in all of his crazy haired glory
No comments:
Post a Comment