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