Bastille Day Parade

On July 14th,
at 2 in the afternoon,
when the sun shines
like a roaring saw,
boiling the blood-filled streets.

There, at 2 in the afternoon.

The deranged crowd seethes and spittles,
dissolving walls and aristocratic bodies,
like slowly flowing stomach acid.

They rape,
and rape,
and rape,
and rape.
Feeding the rampant, invisible, and internal beast,
that perpetuates sin forever.

They spill the blood of the innocent many.
C'est la vie.
They seperate weeping children from their bodies.
C'est la vie.
They tear the breasts from a young virgin girl,
displaying her lovely head on a pike.
C'est la vie, mon ami.

Oh you hypocrite Thomas Jefferson,
You who speak of worldwide revolution in excited tones,
I ask you this:

Do you really trust the mob?