The Telephone Supplications


Picking up the receiver of Love,
I dial God, Pleasure and Happiness.
The lamenting dial tone eagerly waits
So as to turn mellow to the hopeless ears.

Through the mouthpiece of Beelzebub,
I send my supplications along the line of whores.
Sorted in the switching center of brothels,
They go through mosques and shrines of hate.

'It's a long-distance call, too long to get across.
The called party is asleep after a long orgy,
The calling party, you, seems drunk.
Please dial the toll free Pain, Nice Day!'

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