Little Monsters

God is the persecutor of newborn children; he it is who sends tiny babies to eternal flames.


                                                                                            Julian of Eclanum


These hundred thousand years of Homo sapiens sapiens,

Trillions of neural connections in the brain…

Look at all the cannibals killing their children,

Mutilating, abandoning, torturing and raping,

Prostituting them for their own needs.

All their self-hatred they pour into their babies,

They punish them for their own sins,

Break its legs, tear its eyes out,

Touch its privates, kick it to death.

The guilty one, the persecutor.

What can the people do with their poisons

But pour them into wars and slavery,

And into their children’s veins?


The mother kills her baby

Because it might grow up to be a sorcerer,

Because it is a terrible clinging mouth,

Because she is angry with her husband

Or afraid he will leave her foraother woman,

She tosses the newborn to the sows

And watches them devour it;

She kills it and feeds it to its siblings;

She buries it alive in a shallow hole

So its brothers may see it suffocating

And though they try to save it

Their mother stamps it deep into the earth

Until it is dead.


Stroking, masturbating and sucking

Their children’s’ genitals,

The parents amuse themselves,

In incestuous trance;

Overcoming their own depression.

The men bugger the boys’ mouths and arses,

Turning themselves from victims into conquerors,

To purge their mother-polluted blood

With powerful semen

And show them to eat and not be eaten.

Their selves split into others,

And act out the scenes again and again,

Sick and dreaming.

They will march to war

To mend their broken selves,

And cannibalize the enemy,

Devour his penis, muscles and tongue,

Absorbing their strength.


The men trade seashells

Reddened with ochre

To redeem the souls of murdered newborns.

They fondle and gaze at their precious shells

For hours on end, healing their hurts.


Demons are our wetnurses.

They will beat the bewitched child

For daring to grow up and separate,

To defy their domination with each breath.

Look at the devils-how like children they are-

Dancing, lauging, farting and joking!

Have you felt the joyous rage, the rising?

A seizure in the hippocampus,the amygdala,

Releasing God from the poor cramped body.

In the bigman’s house

His enemy’s severed head is kept in honour,

Fed on choice morsels

And consulted for oracles.

At the tree hung with human placentas

The Serpent Lady reigns

Over a fearful congregation;

Her priests cut off their own genitals

And run riot through the town.