Religion: A Season of the Sooty High Treason of the Messy Gods.

John 18:28-40
Jesus before Pilate
28 Then the Jewish leaders took Jesus from Caiaphas to the palace of the Roman governor. By now it was early morning, and to avoid ceremonial uncleanness they did not enter the palace, because they wanted to be able to eat the Passover. 29 So Pilate came out to them and asked, “What charges are you bringing against this man?”

30 “If he were not a criminal,” they replied, “we would not have handed him over to you.”

31 Pilate said, “Take him yourselves and judge him by your own law.”
“But we have no right to execute anyone,” they objected. 32 This took place to fulfill what Jesus had said about the kind of death he was going to die.
33 Pilate then went back inside the palace, summoned Jesus and asked him, “Are you the king of the Jews?”
34 “Is that your own idea,” Jesus asked, “or did others talk to you about me?”
35 “Am I a Jew?” Pilate replied. “Your own people and chief priests handed you over to me. What is it you have done?”
36 Jesus said, “My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jewish leaders. But now my kingdom is from another place.”
37 “You are a king, then!” said Pilate.
Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king. In fact, the reason I was born and came into the world is to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.”
38 “What is truth?” retorted Pilate. With this he went out again to the Jews gathered there and said, “I find no basis for a charge against him. 39 But it is your custom for me to release to you one prisoner at the time of the Passover. Do you want me to release ‘the king of the Jews’?”

40 They shouted back, “No, not him! Give us Barabbas!” Now Barabbas had taken part in an uprising. »
Thus the cerebral consolation of the chronic notion of injustice, the eternal torment borne by the character Jesus testifying to the true cabalistic face of the populated world exiled to the neighbouring desert under the culverin of the feverish needs of souls eternally tormented by the shadows of non-existence.
Harquebusiers and mercenary warriors carrying the drone of a miserable journey in the confused background of the same prophets and apostles flying with the wings of ancient myths and epics in stony lands making piggish of the hypocritical and self-serving consideration of the sovereigns of the ghoul nation waiting on the cold walls of the succinctly uttered lies the true heroine of the loyal and just word the assurance of the peace of the chosen Soul in the daylight of human thought, securing the blessed calmness of a brave existence, tearing the sibylline veils of the innate cowardice of politicians - anthropophagous hiding pitifully begging for a shadow of an esteem and the fog of a power!
Gleaning the thorny sprigs after the harvest of the hatred of the food-republic obscuring the planetary light of the chosen seeker in order to quench the thirst for power and recognition of the "titan Chronos, the Minotaur in the labyrinth, the Cyclops Polyphemus"
Thus, recognising the monstrosity of the ogres created by the ancient Greek tales is customary in the spectral republics where the head of the "state" is the head of the state. spectres where the head of the "state", deprived of power, populated by the tumour of visible and assured death, goes into exile in the barbarism of impossible promises of a miraculous cure, seeking to borrow the avaricious garb of a new nationality harvested after a season of incurable treachery as a result of rainy prayers invoking honorary secular lordships? of the cupbearers serving to drink "the kings"- gluttons for the ruddy blood of decapitated heads buried in the cursed earth of the nation s death throes of the fearful because non-existent souls.
True limbo cursed of a nation-character who is located in the myths of the hungry, false talker of the slaves of the thieving gods with the sooty intention of stealing the power of the eruditions of the wise elected master sovereign of knowledge and miracles defying the miserable noise who runs in the corridors of witches proud of death ensured by the narrow illusions of the dream city and fantasized notoriety.
"Crossbowmen"-clone delving into the armies of dreary darkness to beg for mercy from the apocalyptic stars announcing the common celebration of the sold homeland, cheering the slyly repeated lies of greedy "patriots", constable - laird of the neglected pavements begging for the parsimonious decorations of the "state"-spectrum burned by the partisan of the bifid and confused tongues of the haunted soul amputated from the rainy senses of pure visions coming from the holy perfection of nature: the holy visions of Humanity eternally celebrated by the glittering rains.

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