Black Rebel Motorcycle Club Ask iAN * I AM THE STEP BROTHER OF JESUS*

Ask iAN

Online Spiritual Tech Support

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Animals kill collectively
free of menace
with pure bird nest

on the other hand, aspire
make my kill from side angles
from bird nest lefts
and gutter drain lows

Wipe your slate clean faster
than you can
gather your senses

Pony fuck you in theĀ broad light of Day
as i stab another coffin nail between my
sinister sideways smear of a smile
the forked tongue nicoteen viper
v - locks beneath the meat behind
the crooked curl of my bottom teeth
Photobucket and your head
now a St. John the baptist broth
a damned handsome necktie

I work in the company of
Store front facades
disappearing Ink Names
I am a promise on the wind
an I.O.U.
written on now broken and illegible
I see the world as a flock of innumerable ants
scrawny assbones bent over
kissing flag drapped coffins
on Home
Pilate may have asked for his hands to be washed
I never wash my hands
This is not a job
This is not personal
It's a poem
God down in Hell
The devil Up in Heaven
While you play by rules you've been played by
I move in and out and around you
from angles like i said
i am an angel on the 4 corners of the wind
coming in at you like an 8 legged crossword puzzle
you cannot defend yourself against
you bat at the air
as i steal your eyes
one soft pluck at a time
then i go to work on your teeth
until your smile is so black
that even Heaven won't look at you twice

I am the murderous music that
shuts off the air
while you pine away at your desk
my work is done, ready and waiting for you
when you wake up
when you clock out
when you are not expecting it
even though
you feel me
on the tips of your spine hairs

My lashless eyes flutter thrice and wipe
out your entire family history tree
you're less than a
flea consumed
by a second of Time to me...

I have an imaginary heart
bigger than a whale's stomach
endless as time and space itself*
there are worse things than being lonely
and I am sure i have no idea what they are...

You'll know my hug
in your heaven fucked cross eyed
drug induced Coma
You wallow in the medication of
my perfume
you poor dizzy headed insect rascals

you knobs
sat in your forklifts
your v.i.p. seats
on your stained divans
in your big baby cribs
in your fosterhood machines
behind your hidden belts
you're so dry inside
even after all the water you've chugged.

Pigeons & Rats have more sense than you
and your plastic birthday shelf lives
sitting upon your ass stained and rented sub thrones
reading the works of the Saints
what heckable hoots you are
i'd laugh if i could
only remember how...

The blood of your religions are the crushed grapes
that make up my

You never cease to fancy a change
yet you haven't even changed
the Radio Station for the last 50 years...

You're the same old wingless Tombstones
that you've always been
always will be

Pill box in hand
tear ducts abused
as you give thanks to the Prada groomed
necrophiliacs that
have been selling you out
since i was conjured up
that old November...


thrice told jokes
shitting your pants
and laughing at the same stunts
if you gave a road apple a would
out think you...

I owe you thanks
for giving me something to do with my time
for proving me right
and birthing a mockery to my invalid league
you don't need to call me
i'm already
in your phone

and when the chips are all the way down
don't bother saying hello
i already know
your stupid little name



You were wrong

it WAS All...

In vain.*

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