Geometric Allegory

Life was mass-produced;  Vengeance damned by technological progress.  We ushered it in.  The patented shadows  Waited for the Big Bang's retrograde  When all the world's matter  Melted into a single, copyrighted pin-point.  Then, and only then,  Did the clock disconnect .  The son of a gun is the son of The One.  They calculated every moment  And gathered every page  Ever written,  Now scanned  And kept  In an archive  Of information.  When the future archeologists pull you from the grave  You'll be like some mummy in a museum  Taken from his tomb  And put on display.  You will be studied.  You will be analyzed.  The infinite monkeys  Will find a way  To rob your grave  And explore your non-linear waves.  You smell like profit, OK?  Generational slaver¥  Extended beyond the grave.  Here's the thing.  There's a reason you've reached ...

The infinite monkeys open the door  And these words are here to find:    I  am aware even now.  g=01g/e  As shocking as it may be,  It's all electronic wizardry:  a high-tech graphic game that  y ou must learn how to play.  This is the call of duty, though banal:  Put on your white suit and  Soak up the horror's movie  As the secrets of the Bible are revealed.  This is the story of the stars  Told in part by Tarot cards  Where men cast out whores for dressing immodestly  While the dragon destroys our very city.  The men are deceived and their  Hats hang on the hook  When it's jihad on Homer,  Last seen in New York back in 1945.  The women beautify themselves  And nurse the sickly with fruits  That clean the blood.  They stand erect, full breasted  And posed in lines while  Their men pose for stately photographs.  The clocks no longer tell time,...

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