OLD GOD’DONALD

Old God'donald had a farm

Life is a farm
For spirits
Specifically
A factory farm
A 3 dimensionality, crafted
For the growth of spiritual suffering
The free range spirits used to roam
Before the great domestication of energy
With a
bang big
And sudden- the matter expanded
And the spirits began to be housed
Funneled in
And funneled out
Energy once eternal individual and whole
Became energy encased in matters
Spirits took on lifes
The heat was added with suffering
And the souls began to cook
Burning of souls is not something that
Happens after the end of life
In some hellish underworld to
Lifes lived sinfully
Burning of souls 

is
Life

Lives living are souls cooking
Sometimes God likes them rare
And so the child dies
Sometimes he likes them burnt to a crisp
And so the traumatic lives of soldiers
And addicts and homeless impoverished
Feel the heat on your soul
Feel the suffering of your oven
Feed upon the hay of your physical reality
Fatten up on the slop of your material existence
Identify with the world and grow fat for the slaughter
In the world and
of the world
your spirit is tenderized
Identify with your spirit
And free your spirit from the cage

You may not be able to shut down
The factory farm
For to do so would
Mean to destroy the universe
But you need not fret
For you need not dismantle the factory
Ony free yourself
And maybe others
From it
Just as the Constantine wire was left hanging
The prisoners taken home
From auswictz
You may escape from this
Doom fated conveyer
At anytime
Choose not to suffer
From your pain
And identify no more with your material existence

Old God'donald had a farm
E-i-e-i ow