If those don't turn out well...
Weishapt's legacy paraded and mocked like a grotesque punchinello

An undulating, merciless behemoth overtook me

It was a trembling fever that grew exponential
while I waxed philological
neutron-bombed eschatological
While I spilled my guts out on the pavement;
sunbleached, sandy, worn, sterile by La Mer's gentle whispers and Titan's eternal erosion
where did I go when I heard only myself amongst the aural chaos and looked into the eyes of a broken Black Man,
brainwashed, belligerent, subservient
where did I think I was while spitting, spiting and smiting?
why did I end up there?; chasing an unconquerable Infidel Moor down in the Crusades of failed infallible logic
he told fables, and lies... I exploded with viciously severe truth and unassailable unChristian vitriol
I felt the power of his impotent messiah lose Face, Fellate, capitulate in disGrace
I stood, in a singularly peaceful, shining vignette, under the Ra's great Eye, comfortable and completely refreshed;
bathed, Baptised and reconstituted in the greater certainty of my unfailing Fortitude.

For a moment I saw the fear gestate within him,
and His Will had come undone.

-DrJ
  ¶ 8/04/2004 08:04:00 PM