Feast of Cannibals

With cannibal love we coddle them, keeping them locked within steely fences and walls of white plaster. Never will the wolves get their chance at these, our precious young. Never will the world have the chance to dash their bones into bits with terrible falls after great feats. We alone shall enjoy that privilege, the honor of eating our young alive.
Fattened as they are with the sloth of caged animals, darkened by their cheerless existence beneath our marvelous white wings, they know no joy. They watch the images of childhood from our flickering screens, see the green of grass and blue of sky without the knowledge of the wealth of feelings that such images evoke in the spirit of one whose bare feet have trod on grass and leaped towards the sky.
The sky shall not have them. The grass shall never touch them. We keep them safe, like pearly little maggots hidden away in a dark dumpster, suffocating them with cellophane wrappers and video games, and mp3 players, and cellular phones.
They may speak to one another, reach for one another through these devices, but harsh words will have to win their battles, smooth talk suffice for exchanges of affection. We will not let the bloody fisted brawls have them, nor the hand holding, tickling, chasing, and swinging. They are only for us.
We strip away their immortal souls and make machines of them, fat little high fructose corn syrup powered bots to cherish the ideals we hammered into the hole we tore in their hearts. They will hate terror and terrorists. They will love America and God. Their ears and belly buttons will be washed and their homework done.
We will make them want us, want us for the toys, the shoes, the clothes, the sweets we can buy. They will wail for these things, the fruits of our Empire, never knowing the taste of earth and air and sun and water. We will give them corn to eat in all of the colors of the rainbow forged in the shapes of cartoon characters and steroids to make their lungs pump even when there is no oxygen left to breathe and technology to cast its light over their pallor and more fucking liquid corn to leave them thirsty for more and more and more…
They belong to us and to no other, certainly not to themselves. Whatever they are, whatever they were or might have been, it will be smothered like the unwholesome flame that it is.
Death shall not have them, for we will never let them live. They will die before they can be born, to satisfy our hunger, to stave off the orgy of fear that is existence. They will never be here, will never know now, will always be spirited away by our incessant diversions, left as ghosts slumped on sofas with crumbs in their creases.
And the few who suspect that they have been denied the most precious gift we could give will be punished for their intelligence, for their pure heartedness and courage. The brave and the curious and the noble of our brood will suffer the worst tortures so that we may enjoy our cannibal feast, unperturbed by remorse or anxiety.
We will never need to atone if we nip truth in the bud, snuff out the first smoldering spark before a wild fire can grow and spread its crimson fingers over the hearts of our children, taking them forever from us . Never will the passion to live flower within and eat them alive and transform them from worms into butterflies. They are ours alone to devour.

Sheep Roll In Soul

They show me that we are good sheep, sheep who walk in neat lines to be counted lustily, sheep who roll by in cars. They show this to me. They say, “You are a sheep. Sheep need to have this.” And that is the advertisement; sheep in lines, sheep in cars. They call it the soul. They want to sell me, a sheep, a soul. So ludicrous that my mind is dropped from its usual turbulent fury to a complete silence. I needn’t dig deep. They put it right out in the open. We have become so hopeless, so used to the manipulation of life and words that we don’t need the message to be too discreet. You can simply tell us, you are sheep, you want to fit in with the herd, you want this car, we will give you soul. Soul, the thing that flies or the thing that makes you rock and gyrate to the music. Soul. Yes. I told you. I can say nothing more than what they said, it was so plainly put in pictures and animation and words. I am left silent. Why fight it? Why suggest to a sheep, “Hey yew, they’re just trying to eat yew? They’re getting fat on yew. And yew are getting fleeced.”?
They want to be sheep. They want to be herded. They want the bearded man with the bo-peep cane to stand over them and smile with a heart pinned to his dress. They want him to tell them where they should go, when they should go, they don’t even need a why. Glad to accept that father knows best, they’ll do what they are told, because after all they are sheep, and the shepherd is much smarter, far better suited to make the best choices. He leads them to the greenest grass, the sweetest pastures, why object? We get what we want. Listen to it. You don’t’ even have to worry about your soul. You can buy that too. All you need to do is consume. Feed in the green pasture and the shepherd will give you a soul. He is looking out for both your material and spiritual well fare. He is loading you up onto the conveyor belt and watching you disappear into the dark depths of the light crushing machinery. You will be dust. You will be ash. Immortality is for Gods, not for sheep. You are a quick snack for the Cannibal God and his brood. Yum yum, they taste so good doused in Christian Doir and wrapped in lycra, served on platters of satin and oak. Down in the earth six feet deep your soul will roll along the black asphalt above with a new sheep at the wheel ready to go and earn a paycheck and hit the online stores and shopping malls. Ready to sign its life away, holding a pen clenched in its bovine maw, yes on the dotted line, thank you, and here, here, and here by the X , yes, thank you. Pockets full of plastic and we all fall down. Ring around, around, around. I know it’s true, I’ve said it before, I’ve sung it in nursery rhymes and set it in words and pointed and hopped up and down. And this time I mention it with less passion, with less concern. You are right after all, we are only sheep. If you’re only wish is to feed in greener pastures, then bon appetite. Enjoy it while you can. Because that soul you bought, it won’t roll where you’re going to go. The asphalt reaches only so far.
(A note to the reader- if you find this more than mostly confusing you may need to run a Google search on SOUL. The very first listing will help find a Kia dealer where you can buy your very own.)

Gather

Now children gather round, its time for some learning. Now gather the children round around the center of learning. Around the place and around the pole that rises from the center and from which our flag forever waves. Around the children gather the walls, heavy with brick and sealed against the air. Gather around the children walls and hold them tight in strictest embrace. Time for some learning. Time for some capitalist Christian infused indoctrination. Place your right hand over your heart. (Forever wave flag.) Ready, begin. Gather round children, it’s time for some sitting and some lining up, and some sitting and some lining up. Hear the bell ring. See our flag wave. See our Principal smile. See our walls shimmer in the noonday sun. Repeat after me:

I pledge allegiance
To the flag
Of the United States
Of America
And to the Republic
For which it stands
one nation
under god
under god
under god
One nation under
one true god
Indivisible
With liberty
And justice
For all
For all who pledge
Pledge allegiance
Under God.
Pledge allegiance under God.

Please be seated. You will raise your hand. You will not speak unless called upon. You will keep your hands feet and other objects to yourself. Ready, begin:
Mary had a little lamb whose fleece was white as snow.
Everywhere that Mary went her lamb was sure to go.
He followed her to school one day which was against the rules.
It made the children laugh and play to see a lamb at school.
They skewered it and roasted it over an open flame.
The teacher saw over it and supervised their game.
"Why does Mary love the lamb so?" the eager children cried.
"Well lamb flesh tastes so sweet you know." The teacher did reply .
"I’ll take a leg." Mary said and she began to smile.
Teacher carved the lamb right up grinning all the while.

Please rise. Put your right hand over your heart. Ready, begin:

I pledge allegiance
to the clan,
to the mutton chewing rosies,
pockets full
of dollar bills
worthless
fistfuls
of posies.
To one nation
under God.
With apple pie
And mutton for all

Yes gather round under a hungry God and there will be abundance for all who sit down at the king’s feast. Bones tossed to the dogs at his feet. There will be plenty for all who will please be seated. There will be reward for all who will please rise. There shall be peace for all who will place their right hand over their heart.
But what…What if we will not be seated?
Then you naughty kittens, you shall have no pie. Better to sit dears, see here, see here or your happiness will be lost.
Gather round the tables children and gather round the lambs with knives.
This is the learning time children, marching in straight lines to please be seated and ready begin. Gather round and take your seat under the rippling flag.

Thy kingdom come,
thy will be done
on earth
as it is in heaven.
Give us this day
our daily bread.
And SLICE go the carving knives.
And Baaaaaaaaa cries the lamb.
And the walls tighten their grip,
sucking the last breath from the little children’s maw.