Piddles, trifles and degenerates

Did you hear the great Moral mother’s new mandate?

She blew her shrill whistle clear and loud

And materialized out of a great burst of cloud!

‘The brigade is here, we’ll now do some moral cleansing,’

You’ll be absorbed or crucified – all depending

If you respond to the Great Mother’s clarion call

Make one mistake and ye shall fall!

O ye lowly mother

You degenerate

Packed off your five kids and caught out the last plane

To the land of Kama sutra and the sex manic Rajneesh

To sun bathe on Anjuna beach – it’s the new fashion of late

How sinful thou art looking O’ lowly woman

Not fit for womanhood – you half human

Look how you undress and how you chortle

In arms of strange men – a whore unbottles -

Her filthy, promiscuous, deviant rage

Fit to be caged

Look how this female beast walks unfazed

Her hippie gourmet delight to feast

Our poor poor sons – (sons of holy moral mothers)

Just some innocent Romeos haunting our streets

Now such a grievous fault how will be ignored

We were the land that re-defined sex – but that was before

The Holy Moral Mother descended, and usurped the throne

Bygones, You deviant gypsy – are bygones

Now you act like the pious

Or dwindle in their scathing bias

What were you thinking when you set off to vacation -

This is not the land of the bard

It’s the world’s new moral station

Woman, disembark at your own risk

It’s common in this land for the sons of the holy mother to frisk –

Every woman’s body – willingly or by force

Our poor poor sons are so hungry like never before!

Oh and don’t give me that look!

Don’t you know it’s the common fashion?

A woman’s body is a liability – fit to be devoured

If she chooses to exercise her freedom – Oh what a whore!

So fornicate you Delilah – and get drunk and make merry

But when a poor hungry son tries to pluck your cherry

Don’t you cry out loud!

You didn’t adhere to the Great Moral Mother’s moral proclamations

Tainted, blemished and labelled – you’ll be stationed

At the great Capitol

As the Moral Mother sits on her throne

‘Stone the witch, dear media, and make no bones’ –

The whore teaches all the wrong lessons

Makes our daughters so bold

Set a precedent now so it will be told

To every daring daughter of this land who will try to stand on her two feet

Let them remember our poor poor hungry sons are quick to sense fresh meet!

O Fiona! Loose woman!

The slime of the bacchanal west

Undress - and let us smell the vile smell of your stoned flesh

Now you will pay the price

The mandate of the Great Holy mother – her poor hungry sons will be the swift device!

So what if our sons claimed your equally juvenile daughter!

A liability like our own – at least we showed mercy by dunking her alive underwater

We didn’t set her to fire – left for dead with sixty percent third degree burns

We showed mercy – just a quick gang bang

Oh how she was screaming, ‘gimme more, gimme more,’

Such a sexy little carousing thang!

Poor Scarlett sex siren half naked saw red

Why wouldn’t she? When she saw her mother hopping beds

Of course daughters of mothers like these

Should be raped by a whole mob and not just a group of fours and threes

After all it’s the duty of all responsible mothers

To let their hungry sons feed

On derelict flesh – cut that

Sometimes we serve our sisters on a platter

Freshly served to our mighty patriarchs – our fathers and our brothers!

So you negligent mother, you derelict, deviant Fiona

Now stop creating noise

This is the land of Moral Holy Mothers

Lower your voice!

What the hell do you think, trying to scream so loud?

Holy Mother deigns that her hungry sons did her proud

It’s your fault! It’s your fault! YOU let your little puppy so free

Drugged, stoned and slammed drunk

She invited the greed

One a dark lonely night on a lonely stretch of beach

Our poor poor sons! Dont you go *abusive* on them now –

Don’t you been calling rapists!

In Holy Mother’s land we go by the rule of the book

Any woman who exposes herself to danger will be took

And dealt with Holy mother’s scornful ire

Don’t bother Fiona, for you shall tire...

In a country where women protect their rapist little sons

Call a victim lewd and a slut – sometimes they even burn

And crucify

Their own kind – on a huge stringent moral pyre

You won’t escape Holy Mother’s ire

Go back Fiona

Scarlett tasted good

If you have any more daughters, leave them here if you would

Our poor poor hungry sons need distraction

With the Great Holy Mother’s benefaction

This land of Sati and female infanticide

Will once again set precedence

And maybe Holy Mother can even tackle the west’s decadence

Go away Fiona, you lost little saint

Before they taint

Your dead daughter anymore

Holy Mother is out to settle her score

Against those who don’t adhere to her moral codes

In this land that taught the world about sex

But Fiona... that was a long time ago...

I am sorry for your Fiona, but what to do

When Great Moral Mothers rule the roost

The only real victims – (except your unfortunate baby)

Are - the ghosts of Justice and Truth

I support Fiona. And I despise anyone who sits in judgement of her – especially women who do so because they have added responsibility as women to support a grieving mother of a rape victim. Such mothers are guilty of breeding and harbouring rapists.

They are the real the scum of the society.

*The jab on Osho Rajneesh is a satire. It’s doesn’t convey malicious intent.