Saturday, 19 May 2012

The Prodigal Son's Brother

Upon these golden Hebrew Fields
I sow my seed and lo! it yields!
Such golden crops from golden soil
This trove that comes from all my toil

And so with sickle I do reap
The bounty that my lord provides
And yet these days I cannot sleep
For from our farm my brother hides

He fled the house with father’s money
And spent it all on babes and honey
Till he was spent as rocky pasture
With no-one left to call his master

His revels caused a whore to blushed-
What decadence of man was this?
And not since that fair Sodom was crush’d
Did from the path of god man miss.

And so he fell to destitution
(And as is likely prostitution)
Until he woke among the swine
Such shame to call this brother mine!

And yet still my father, he does weep
And our home is cast in solemn bonds
And overnight I scarce can sleep
While yet my brother still absconds.

But what is this, from o’er hill?
As in the sunny fields I till
Is it a giddy form another?
No, by God, for ‘tis my brother!

He's welcomed home with open arms
Though stinking of the shit of swine
But now it is my wealth he harms
The portion that was marked as mine!

My hatred grows with every hour
They say they love him, still I glower
From in my dark and gloomy nook
As familial affections he now took.

And father declared a celebration
To usher in this joyous day
But I mull upon my usurpation
And think on ways to get my way.

The feast and revels are divine
With rivers red of flowing wine
And while my brother is now rowdy
In moments he will become drowsy

And so at the dead of night I come
When all the others have retired
I part the pork that makes his bum
And deep within my phallus fired

I can tell the sinner loves my presence
The man has lain with pigs of course
And yet soon his organs obsolescence
Will come, and I feel no remorse

His moans of ecstasy turn t' pain
As I reach deeper, again, again
And rupture organs foul and rude
The boy will nevermore eat food.

And so here’s the moral of the story
That despite an end that’s rather gory
An end that Christ for some caused missed
Perhaps because he helped assist
Me in such sin as I did ravage
Upon that brute, ignoble savage.
The moral is, that though it’s fun
To follow the path of the prodigal son
Beware the other brother’s wrath
Or he will carve you a new path
For his rage is like a thunderstorm
And your insides he may deform.

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