In defiance of nature

Opened with a recitation from The Bhagavad Gita, chapter 1 - Verses 38 to 45.

Dear Lakshmi
To you I have two shrines
For each a vestibule
One with water and a coin
One with stone and a coin
Forever in air
My wealth is this planet
Our Gaia
My wealth is our species
And it's continued presence.
This world was a garden
And a provider
And we, as the consumers of it's fruit
Are naturally, it's tenders
It was to be a cyclical relationship
We take care of the land and the animals
And in return you take care of us
By providing the necessities of shelter and sustenance
And we, if dutiful replace and plant more than we consume
Once upon a time,
When people cared for you
As much as they did for themselves
When they wanted less
And knew more
More than mere efficiency and profit.
We wouldn't have overpopulated
If we had retained some sense of what is natural and right
If we had stayed in tune with nature
Then we wouldn't now have to invert it so audaciously.
If people had cared for their young
And hadn't given into mere lust, thoughtlessly
With children left to no one as a consequence
Brought up by the system
To become the medicated leeches which sustain it,
It's a tragedy of excess unmediated.
Everything on life support of one form or another
A decaying morality necessitating this system
Of welfare for the strays, abandoned and broken
Overrun with the runts of our excessive, squandered use.
Gaia should have been enough
for a truly sustainable race
But we thought ourselves above our lands
We thought ourselves above everything
How little we knew
How much damage we've done
And how readily we carry on
Bolstering the institutions of life support
Sapping every last drop we can from whatever we can
In a desperate urge to drag ourselves ever on-wards
Never willing to accept we may have taken the wrong turn.
Besides, it's too late to go back now, isn't it?
That would be regression
Regression back to a time where the damage wasn't so monumental
before families were discouraged
Raising children was discouraged
Abortion cheered on as a truly remarkable sign of freedom
Regression back to a time where life was meaningful
And values meant more than what was useful in a given moment
Or whatever meant you slept better
Or whatever helped you shirk responsibility
Go ahead. squint, deny it, call me all the names
Say whatever you need to, to keep this **** show going
But so few can really look me in the eyes and defend themselves
Without resorting to screaming obscenities and thoughtless, emotional dismissals.
The seeds of their private regret
Which reflexively become bricks in the prisons wall.
Regression back to a time demonized by today's preachers
A time you'll never be allowed to know
Because you have to believe this is the best it's ever been
You have to believe in every line of code the system feeds you
Or you'll begin to see something in the details
Or more importantly in the gaps.
Gaps which spread fissure like through this existence
which though plugged oft with lies and falsehoods
Will break this whole illusion within our lifetimes.
And that's no moment of salvation.
We were the caretakers borne of this garden
Just as the bees and the mould
Just as the fungi and the flowers
It is only through decadence and desire
And a lack of living in tandem with natural laws
That we destroyed the world
And with it, ourselves.
Perhaps it was when we had eradicated all that was truly wild and untamed
Once we had parceled and gridded enough of it
That we started to forget
In our drive towards what was once an unnecessary level of efficiency
How unruly nature could become when not managed
How many things grow beyond control
Only to kill everything around itself
Leaving nothing to sustain itself
And rotting, gorged, bloated
Greedy to the point of destruction
Greedy for everything it can get
Spitting out uneaten fruits
Which spoil in the shade of it's own progenitor.
My gold is this earth
Not your environmentalist cults
With the placards and land rovers
Or the filthy wool and dope smoke
The state dependent welfare sponging "right on's"
Or the middle class who role play "being in touch"
Rarely are they in touch with much more than their budget
And ultimately all desire little more than a festival
And a chance to call someone fascist
These will be the ones who talk of privilege
Unable to see past their polish employee from the veranda
Who they may as-well have named "Brownie point"
He's from "impoverished place" and we hired him "to make us feel good"
Because everyone else from these peoples countries
Were also born with silver spoons sticking out their sheltered arse-holes
Sorry, mouths
Wouldn't want to offend the self certifying saints.
Cultists who've never planted so much as a piece of gm basil
But at least they buy organic
Worthy of a ten hour die-in surely.
My gold is this species
And it's continued development in tandem with the earth
Not it's continued stagnation
Tarmacking and concreting everything
Turning every available inch into some fungal farm
To feed to sardine people in their pods
As they **** away pitilessly
Discarding children as if mere tissues.
Convincing themselves that life doesn't matter
Unless it's theirs, right now.. as they desire it
You'd be an evil person to question that
You cold hearted bigot
How do you not celebrate?
How do you not celebrate obesity?
How do you not celebrate abortion?
Drug abuse? Destruction of land?
Perpetual greed? Endless distraction?
Thoughtless grazing?
Ghettoization of minorities
Gentrification of the ghettos
Turfing out of the now undesirables
Until everyone becomes the undesirable
Well it was good while it lasted, right?
How do you not celebrate
A rise in Dysphoria?
A breakdown of nuclear families
You know the loving home?
Oh no, of course
You were raised in a world already broken
To parents more interested in their hippy ideals
Cultivated through LSD and a good summer ****
In a field full of the brain-dead
Platting each others egos with flowers
And opium
Moaning about their ignorant parents
Warning them of dangers
The bigots!
No wonder you'd want to break up the family
No wonder you think being gay is an ideal
No wonder procreation is ugly to you
And abortion is a boon
No wonder you support medicating everyone
And sitting around staring at a screen
Eating your fungus
In your designated wank pod
With your social credit system
Whilst bombing and invading cultures who aren't also decaying
For some bullshit propaganda you read
It's too hard to think so just believe
Believe that you are the greatest that's ever been
And drop your rainbow bombs on anyone who questions it
No **** wonder you would support that
You were raised on the life support
Sucking on the soured teet of a collapsing swine
Relishing in the warmth of it's bile.
You never knew this world
You never cared for it
You only cared for yourself
And denied this world at every chance you got.
too good for your own existence.
Drink your **** coca-kool-aid
And wear your Armani hat
Pretend it's anything other than the tin foil
Of the common madman.
You wear your mask like a pissing meth addict as it is
Paranoid of everyone you pass
Fighting unseen horrors
And screaming at those who aren't also in hysterics...
Even now, at this point.
I have a main shrine
This entire place where I dwell
A shrine to Bhairava
And on behalf of you all
I give myself to him
As a conduit in the wildest dreams of one unworthy
But willing
And on behalf of all of you
for now I console
Behappy, Bhairava
Though the flames last longer nightly
And the tension in this air grows thick
There is a time to come
A time to come very soon
Where I will blow out these lights
And no longer will I wish the Bhairava happiness
At some point
You will behold death
Death of your self's
Your ever so deserving self's
And no more will the decadent
Disgrace nature and life
With their departure from it's laws
In their desire to transcend all boundaries
You will find yourself trans-human
That is surely true
You'll be but bones upon a scarred land
Which unlike so many of you
Will persist
And thrive
For you're already dead
Just waiting on the order
Amen-ra.