Zionism, a poem.

Zionism, a poem.


It exists, but you dare not speak its name,
The Zionist beast that keeps us in chains,
For upon the throne of Babylon it sits,
Spewing a myriad lies from its red lips,
That slither and slide into ears and eyes,
Then settle within as an established lie,
A snarl of sinister hissing serpents,
Controlling the conditioned consciousness,
And all who proclaim their false loyalty,
Are richly rewarded with a false liberty,
All the rotting fruits of a poison garden,
Where lambs are fed to laughing lions,
Are given to thee, and every dark pleasure,
The soul debased, trinkets thought treasures,
But beauty is a pale corpse, art an abortion,
and the noblest virtue is rankest treason,
Gripping our governments by the hair,
Always seeking dissenters, always aware,
Its gold crown of power encircles the planet,
Inset with the jewels of usury and profit,
And so the beast will proclaim its new war,
To the corporate media, its willing whores,
And the masses will bow their bloody backs,
As traitors break our youth upon their racks,
Until desert roses bloom a fiery nuclear red,
And the dust deals Persia its lingering death.