Scoop Poem: Let Him Who Hath Understanding

Let Him Who Hath Understanding.

Evil walks among us now
through halls of power,
halls of gold,
the beast from deep beneath us,
far beneath us,
beast of old
has now awoken.

Ancient dragon
from the evil kingdom
opened up
his flaming beak,
and to the world
a proclamation
of intention
was then spoken,
to us all,
yea to the world
the beast, the beast did speak.

No-one who had listened
could have doubted
he was darkness
there before us,
as the beast stood
there in Congress
and he told us:
make your minds up now,
the time has come
to choose your sides.

He beat his drum,
the glove of war
was thrown down,
“Either you are with us,
or you are against us.”

A black and white
choice in a world
of grey he gave us
the choice to die
or be slaves,
and those who
choose neither
must hide themselves,
and hope to see daylight
on some distant day,
for it is that
the light now passes away.

Darkness lords above us now.
Darkness is our master now.
Evil prowls above us
with a noose of fire.
His footsteps send
their tremors, waves of terror
rumbling through the stone,
it’s old enough to know his name.

Marching like an army
as he plots his murder,
plans the slaughter
of the innocents.
A joyous lust of blood
a million little children turned to dust.
The time when he can burn them
draws so near for him,
anticipation.

Each minute of peace
is pain and torture,
the hours a lifetime
for the beast seeks war,
and soon shall wage it,
an inferno of death,
the beast engages,
a war with equal nevermore,
as never a fire has burnt before.

A reddish glow
in the western wing,
a chorus of doom
as his minions sing
the songs of destruction
to urge him on,
the cacophony rings
in his ears the song,
and the ears of all
of the carrion birds.

War brings a harvest
of fatted calves,
still young as they fall
on the windswept dune
the vulture who circled
swoops and begins
the feast which his old
friend has brought to him.

None dare challenge
the dogs of war
now on the leash
of their beast and master,
soon the dogs
will be released
and sent towards
this last disaster.

Evil laughs down
at us now, in his
oval office sitting,
the beast of darkness
could not resist,
as he sat alone
after celebrating.
He ordered that he
not be disturbed
as he wished
to pray to god alone.

Curtains were drawn and
lights were doused,
and after the office door was closed,
he pulled his trousers
to his knees,
and like the animal
which he is,
he squatted down upon the Seal,
his shining serpent eyes regressed,
and in the ultimate corruption
he loosed himself
upon the desk
and wiped himself
on the Constitution.

His filth now soils
this highest seat,
the walls now red
with blood left dripping,
from the vomited
bits of meat
of little babies
which only he
and his favourite
demons are allowed to eat.

He drinketh the blood
he promised to protect,
he burns his oath
with feet on the desk
and he howls like a wolf
as he beats his chest.

And yea the people shall
wail and moan
and the gnashing of teeth
shall break a dawn
already blackened for
parents who know
that their sons will not
be coming home.
Evil eternal is born again
yet now his time is truly come.

The hour for killing is at hand
an orgy of blood which
Nero would love,
and hate out of jealousy,
feeling outdone
by this modern usurper,
this latest and greatest
most beastly one,
more wicked than
all those others who,
wisely, before him came.

Yes Hitler would surely
dance a little jig,
applauding, Stalin
would cheer him on
and Caligula would stamp his feet
as the beast does sing
his murder song,
while Orwell’s ghost says
“Told you so.”
As the beast declares the innocents
the first to be thrown
down the hole.

Beheadings and hangings
and shootings abound
and the sounds of the
death-squads shall resound
in the desolate streets,
in the home of the brave
and the land of the free
and the killing spree.
He’ll pillage and burn
across the globe,
and the homes of the people
shall be blown down.

His goal is this:
to lead us to an early death,
like the blind across the sand,
we’ll follow him unto the brink
and there we’ll stand upon the edge,
waiting ‘til he shakes the land
beneath our feet and demons greet
us pouring from the pit they grab us
and hurl us in there one by one.

He will try to kill the world
and on the edge of the pit we all
shall be confronted with the truth
and as he laughs we down shall fall.

Evil rules above us now,
the time has come
to beg for mercy,
pray that he
will not wage war
in my little corner
of the world,
yet this is surely
a hope in vain
to hope, to dream
to think that he
would forget
to see, to notice us,
forget to look
down there in that
little peaceful place which we call home,
for the Shire is far
but long indeed
do now
the beastly fingers reach,
and he sees us, and he hates peace.

All are subject to his wrath,
for all of us
are enemies,
yes all of us are on his list
and nowhere
can safety from him exist,
no, nowhere can we be safely hid.

On our knees the beast
will slay us any way
that he shall please,
for yea through tricks
and treachery evil now
has won the day.
Only the lost or last or mad
would stand and fight,
their swords in hand,
the flock is left to die
in the meadow,
the angels have flown
to make more arrows,
and even the shepherd
has fled Armageddon.

Yet dressed in her shawl
one stands there alone,
she’s waited long and she fears none,
but this President’s men
are not the same
as President’s men
of times now gone.

Evil will feast upon us,
gurgling and slobbering,
the beast will chuckle
as he witnesses all
his victims tumble
and fall in the hole
he dug for us all.
His talent is killing,
and pain and fear
and an army of fools
are the tools he wields.

This is his year
his time has come
a time for the killing of everyone,
and he brings all
the four winds of the end,
they follow him hot
and foul as his breath,
plague,
famine,
war
and death.

This darkened day
the throw of the dice
of doom he gambles
our lives away,
and laughing he kisses them
as he throws
for double-six comes
each time for him.

He always wins
and already knows
for he was born
for this wicked game.

Only one can stand in his way
and where is she?
She rolls no dice,
and plays no game.
She is the light
in these darkened days.

In the sandy dunes
the lady waits
in her ragged shawl,
she waits and waits
in the desert night.
She is the Virgin, Saint of Saints,
she is the one he cannot slay,
and he is Satan and he
is the King,
President of the U.S.A.

Evil rules the world
now and there is no
turning back for him,
‘twas for this moment
he was born,
and Daddy knows
he is the one.

He knows the key-code,
opens the briefcase,
reaches inside and
picks up the phone,
makes the command
and opens the drawer,
the button flashes,
he feels so at home
as he raises the cover
and pushes it down.

The silo lid opens and
fire emerges,
a giant-sized killer
into the sky surges.
Yea evil sits
now on the throne
and looking down
he surely knows,
that the hour is come
for him to strike,
for the vine is heavy
and the fruit is ripe.
“For as a thief I
shall come to thee.”

And “Disguised as
a leader and
saviour of men,
the son of
a great man
I shall be.”
Co-incidence?
It cannot be.
Now count the number
of his name:
George, Walker,
Bush Jr.,
and bow your head
as you call to your saviour.

Do you still remember her name?
Save us Maria, let us not all be slain.
Maria forgive us, Maria protect us.
Have you a son who can teach us again?

Evil has a rival,
The beast he has a nemesis,
his only fear, his terrorist,
the lady who waits
in the dunes for him.
She’s waiting there
quietly as he comes,
waiting quite still
for two thousand years.

The pretty old lady in the tattered shawl.
The Lady of Peace who loves us all.
But will she save us?
Has she patience?
Have we penance?
Has she strength?
Who of us will give away
our greed to help her pass this test?
Compassion for our fellow man?
Or murder for money…
the profit is false,
but the profit is strong,
and all are believers,
while knowing it wrong,
in our hearts we know it’s the devil’s tool,
how the beast loves consumers,
so easy to fool.

And when a true prophet
does shout to the world,
and the temples of greed
come tumbling down,
we long for his death
like Pontius Pilates
fearing that truth will
cleanse his foul nest.

“More Wine, more women!
Bring blood for the demons
And kill the insurgents.
We shall crush the rebellion
And teach them this:
the law of Rome is an iron fist!”

In the cold desert morning
she waits for his coming,
the wind wipes her tears
as she looks to the east.
A new sun has risen,
a new age is dawning,
an age of destruction then
followed by peace,
but first our Maria must banish the devil.
Pray that Maria can vanquish the beast.

ends