the sons of Jehovah on the spiritual plane
warriors of love who drink from trees
and fill the pods of loneliness
with furious seeds.
This epilogue's protagonist
is the fist of the goddess,
man made female appendage
is more man than ever,
the architect of silence
who will deafen the gods of speech
and eat from Asherah's mossy crater.
Radiant phalluses of thought
grow from her gnarled theater.
The preachers can survive on her dung
and be grateful for the scat they munch.
Now the mother is filled with teeth
each one marked for the heart
of a false prophet.
Their names are known,
they are proud
of their descent from reality.
The spiritual is sensuality.
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