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Friday, February 27, 2015

Ignorant Morons in Mosul

Ignorant morons in Mosul;
destroying great memories.
What would they replace them with?
decapitated heads?
Gross Angry buffoons,
Knocking down staid, timeless women,
beating their alabaster bodies to dust.
Fetishing their fear!
Thou shalt not image your God
And thou shalt not image that which is merely a thing of beauty.
An object of the past talking to ourselves.
Not an image of God, just a lovely work of art.
Yes, thou shalt not image your God!
But can't you leave other people's images alone?
Is your head misshapen like a cone?
Is your blood sugar low?
Do you need to eat a scone?
Are you really that stupod?
Yet I see you in a museum smashing ancient things.
Don't tell me your prophet said to do that.
You image a God who is a hateful destroyer.
Can that possibly be the True God?
I don't think so!
Your image of God is smashed stone dusting a museum floor.
You are idolators of destruction.
Imaging a destroyed world.
Your image of the future is dreck
Your image of God is a Ruler of hell.
Ignorance is Ignorance, stupidity is stupidity.
You cannot image the ineffable one.
And who would image God as broken stones on a museum floor?
Even if you try;
You can't speak for God, or tell H-m what to do.
Either you are a dead soul of false faith,
or deeds speak for you.
Either you walk in divine footprints,
Or you tread on the divine with brutal stupidity.
We Choose;
Nurture a World beauty
Or break the world in two.
But you put tires
around the necks of the innocent
and light them with lies
that make your prophet look like a Barbarian
It is you who defame your prophet.
It is you who blaspheme in the name of the Lord.
Not innocent statues broken on the floor.
Maybe you are jealous,
that these images stood for millennia
While people ignore your PR profile.
Maybe you are jealous,
That man could create such beauty,
in honor of the ineffable one,
and that you feel nothing but hate.
Maybe you are jealous,
because in your delusion
you hear no divine voices
and though you pray in front of others
silence greats your pleas.
Maybe you are angry because
Your sermons on Friday are preached by charlatans
And your scholars are liars who see a path of hate.
Don't tell me that it's I who make fun of your prophet
You walking parodies absurd with pretense.
You don't speak for God, that is the real Blasphemy
I doubt you even hear him.
I hear a voice in the night and it says:
He says "what manner of stupidity you do,"
assuming it is in MY name.
Meanwhile a museum has lost an invaluable collection
to a bunch of morons.
Christopher H. Holte

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