Splinters From Your Mother's Spine

He that loveth father or mother

More than us is not worthy of us!

We will impose universal and unconditional love

So as to shatter the pillars of the past and

Let the very idea of family glide into oblivion

We will feed your children

And turn your beds into a cold place

There shall be no retreat

No shelter from the great movement of history

We shall uproot you

And make you live in hundreds of

Sprawling babylons and forget the

Smell of humus and the ways of yore

Your children will wear necklaces

Made of splinters from their mother's spines

As they turn on their parents

Accused of subversion and weakness

They shall crave for rigid control

And overthrow the ruler whose hits

Are not harsh enough, they shall worship

At the altar of their bruises

As the next step in the ladder of our evolution

They come to us unrepentantly and demand

To be freed from their ineffectual selves

From the barrenness

And anxieties of individual life

They shall be provided with comfort

To the point that they'd rather be raked

Over glowing coals than to ever face

Their gaping inner voids again

The chief passion, the utmost demand

Of the frustrated is to belong

And there is never too much cementing

Or binding to satisfy this howling passion