word whores

the market that god so mindless and cool


I'll tell the kids to smoke
the aids soaked to poke


give me a big old bag of weed
and I'll write you up a creed

tell everyone you are a saint unsainted
a star fell from the sky

got your dummie books and cliff notes
your self help drivel

tell ya how to live for awhile
if it makes your money smile

i'll write porn for kids
to read about each other

tales for a crazy cat lady
to rationalize the stench of her diseases

let me tell ya about presidents
the green house effect
the whores in Bombay
and the little boys in thailand


any damn words that you please
I have a high tolerance for sleaze

tell ya whatever
they want me to tell

prop up your crosses and bosses
challange evolution itself

I'll praise fetuses
and damn abortionists criminal

write out how to hate minorities
and immigrants

don't matter what i think or feel
the market is the only thing that is real



the
death
of
us
all




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judeao-corporate lifestyling

child
they will capture you with sweet words of seduction
whisper honey and cream into your ears
promise twenty acres and a mule
sign a contract with your nation
anything to get behind you
to plunge the knife deep into your back
so they can sell your meat
to your children

nothing can stop
the mental slave traders
the judeo-corporate marauders
sailing the seas of our collective consciousness

sit here a few stories above the busy street
watch the cars dash by as they burn out the sky

this whore of a world is all played out
watch it die


so sick of the fucking corporate
excuses for killing me


BANG BANG BANG goes the gun in my head





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cogs

I could have been you
you could have been me
it's a twist of the mind
a trick of the genes
that dark god of chaos
scrawls the lines in between
the inter-changable parts
in this crippled machine.



THOU SHALT NOT STEAL THE WRITINGS OF JOHN SCOTT RIDGWAY... YOU CAN EASILY GET PERMISSION FOR A NON COMMERCIAL REPRINT BY CONTACTING MY EMAIL.

revelations of the bloody clown

Hi. I'm dead. My name, where I lived, who I loved and hated is not important to me. Shouldn't be to you.

There is an infinity of surprises involved in dying. I was surprised about going to hell . . . I didn't believe in any of this shit when I had flesh. Then I was surprised all the more when I found out we prefer Satan's domain by such a huge, bloody serious degree.

Why is the life god sentenced us to so painful? Because the god wanted it to be horror filled... in a cosmos with a god, how could it be other? Heaven is the same way, a horror house of blood and gore.

The whole thing with god being good and the devil being bad is all just more of the usual bullshit that the living use to brainwash themselves into plodding through another tricky day.

The one we worshiped as god was really our tormentor, and Satan, the rebel, had been fighting for us. . . makes perfect sense, once you think of it, but the god wouldn't allow enough humans to think this for the thought to grow legs among the living.



The devil, satan, the fallen angel -- he was actually entreating god to end human suffering, telling god that just because he had a need to feel like the humans 'were good enough to worship him,' that this need alone did not make what god was doing right.


God had never been questioned before in any manner that god understood as questioned, and ignored satan's pleas to spare the living beasts of their horror of short, brutal lives.

Satan loved and revered god his father, praised him for every leaf of glorious grass. . . still he couldn't just ignore the screams of the humans. Satan heard from other Angels who shared his torment, and together their disquiet grew...

When he could no longer bear feeling the humans pain, the Dark One rebelled . . . fought for what he knew would be a losing cause. What was our pain to a god? Nothing.

God the mindless child sentenced Satan to remain in the center of the earth, trapped, forever hearing the torment of the dying life forms on the surface.

The Dark Prince cries our tears while the laughter of Christ echoes on high...

True fucking story, man.

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LAMENTING THE LEMMINGS

I would not have spent
all those lonely years
trekking out here
if I did not think
I could draw blood
explode a few bombs
in the infinite realm of techno words

tell myself that I am going to try to sway
the great grey pulsing brain of us all
play the town crier
be an alarm

a paul revere whimpers a few hesitant words
in this obscure rag where I wipe my wad
harp on about an anthropologist declaring
we need to kill off 90% of ourself
for this little planet to feed us

soon the people will start doubling every year,
then every month,
then every week,
every day....
this whore of a world is all played out
the math just works that way
sorry to send out
another obvious truth to dim your day


So many words wasted
on fucking and robbing banks
time spent in an illusion far from the corporate truth
far from the fields
filled with angry young men
carrying guns
and asking WHY?




THOU SHALT NOT STEAL THE WRITINGS OF JOHN SCOTT RIDGWAY... YOU CAN EASILY GET PERMISSION FOR A NON COMMERCIAL REPRINT BY CONTACTING MY EMAIL.