The Enemy’s Manifesto

The invisible prokaryotes insult the mothers of the believers
“And the bloody scientists dare to sleep with our gods”
The believers would cry in the name of the father.
Well in my neighbourhood the gods are made of mud,
Plastics, woods, metals and plaster of Paris and I hardly know
What the fuck is wrong with those scientists. Sleep with mud?
Plastics? I don’t know either what is wrong with the believers.
I don’t know why I’m even concern about them.
I only hate them. Because this is my manifesto.

All the people are kings and queens of their own kingdoms
I’m just an outcast peeing on their gardens. One at a time.
Because I got nowhere to go—perhaps, except in the frontiers
But I heard the national armies are polishing their balls out there
They got balls, I heard, as shiny as their new machine guns
I had heard, balls and guns are considered a jinx by foreign marauders
At the end of the day, I got nowhere to go but crawl in these kingdoms
And by night, each night, I retire by the Lake of Hate.
In summers, I live on the coldness of the kingdom’s heart
By the heat of the kings and the queens’ debauchery, in winters.
And I don’t mind it. Because I hate everything.

If hate is a crime, all the kings and queens are in trouble
And what—would the asses and donkeys come, decked up
Dressed in gaudy Bolywood attires, to judge the mortals?
Judge about killing. Judge about rape. Judge about discrimination.
Judge about extortion. Judge about robbery. Judge about burglary.
Judge about fucking others’ wives. Judge about Staying alive like in Imphal.
I’d really hate them. I have only peed—and is it a crime too?
I’d really hate if it is. But you bet I care about it.

gif from raidous