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The Profane Parables and Other Nihilistic Narrations by a Perverse Pariah, 4

by UriahElroy

Warning: This work has been rated 18+ for language, violence, and mature content.

The Profane Parables and Nihilistic Narrations by a Perverse Pariah

Offering Occasional Observations of Odd Occurrences

And an Astonishingly Annoying Amount and Application of Alliteration

The following contains explicit language, violent conduct and numerous moral ambiguities. It is also sideways-eight-percent true in all aspects. The reader may, understandably, recognize a seemingly unreliable amount of foresight in some aspects. This may elicit skepticism regarding the overall authenticity. Well, a quick cross-reference with the “questionable aspects” and Wikipedia will prove the doubters wrong. Every time. So there. For these reasons, it should be ritualistically recited at bedside to small children, to ensure a future generation full of promising politicians, priests and food service employees.

There once was a Siberian peasant, a long, long time ago,

His smell was offensively unpleasant and his eyes seemed to glow.

A Holy Man, the Starets, a lazy, crazy drunk,

Grigori, the Debauched One, also, The Mad Monk;

Healing horses with his hands, his favorite sense was touch!

Touching this and touching that,

Touching piss and touching shat,

Touching soiled blouses and touching wine,

Touching spoiled spouses and touching crime,

Touching royal houses, touching Divine,

Some would say he touched too much, touched too much, touched too much!

He grew out his beard and he wandered about,

His glowing eyes leered and he spoke like a lout.

He stumbled upon a monastery, far away from home,

And he rumbled through its commentaries, reciting all of its tomes.

He returned to the barren village, and seemed much more aware,

Ever since his on-foot pilgrimage, his words became so clear.

He’d now preach to the peasant population, behind a crazed, glowing stare,

He would also practice hypnotization, with whoever he came near.

There was once a Russian Tsar and ruler, a long, long time ago,

His physique was short, weak, meek and antique; it suited his ego.

The Last Emperor of Russia, Nicholas the II,

He was submissive to his wife and to a mystic peasant.

Inheriting a throne, for which he was ill-prepared!

He took commands from his wife,

He took commands his whole life.

Too dull for opinions, too scared for strength,

Too gull to lead minions, too square for change,

Too dual for dominions, two faced and strange;

Had he cared, the Romanov's would be spared, would be spared!

Alexandra, Russia’s final Empress, lived long, long, long ago,

Being German-born was infectious for the public to know.

Mother to five including the Tsarevich of Nicholas,

Both the poor and the rich thought she was a callous bitch.

Pressured by her social rank, she collapsed with emotion!

From madness quells and sadness spells,

She had an iron will, but little brain-cells.

Capricious and shy, the public scorned her.

Judicious and dry, the Tsar adored her.

Superstitious, occultists would inform her.

There was always just commotion, commotion commotion!

Alexi was Tsarevich to Russia, a long, long time ago,

Secretly suffering from a sickness, blood followed every blow.

A tiny bump on the belly, or scraping his knee,

Could potentially result with a fatality;

The doctors were baffled,

The dynasty was desperate.

The blood never seemed to stop,

His bruises would never clot.

Would the medicine help? Was it in the glutens?

The deficient lad yelped, “I need absolution!”

A Siberian would be their resolution;

Rasputin! Rasputin! Rasputin! Rasputin!

Alexandra would request his aid at the castle,

Nicholas acquiesced, although a he was a skeptic.

Upon his arrival at the palace, there were no restrictions,

The man belched, stared and picked his nose, he lacked social inhibitions;

He asked to see the boy after meeting “Papa and Mama,”

He barged into his room, while reciting a Bible stanza.

He laid his hands upon the lad and told him not to fear,

He made motions with his hands and stopped to stroke his beard,

The Empress looked endeared; the Tsar thought it was weird,

Then a miracle appeared; the bruising disappeared!

Bear in mind, Alexi’s condition was kept secret from the people,

If they had known, the Throne’s future would be feeble.

The Debauchee’s appearances could never be fully explained,

Because it would jeopardize Alexi’s future Russian reign.

So it didn’t make sense that this amoral man,

Could be a whorehouse fan,

And hold the Empress’s hand.

Or was seen getting drunk at the bar with his fellow peasants,

And then entered the Royal Palace holding Christmas presents!

This paradoxical man couldn’t even read!

Why should he sit with those who lead?

What excuses him for his onism of hed?

And where does he get off always preaching his creed?

“Closer to God” because of his decreed misdeeds?

“Before one can find salvation, one must first sin!

Because sin is creation; sin’s where redemption begins!

Your carnal implications are nothing you should dim!

God wants you to drink gin!

Touch, touch, touch skin with skin!

Because sin is creation; sin’s where redemption begins!”

-Rasputin! Rasputin! Rasputin! Rasputin!

Convinced of his divinity, Alexandra became obsessed,

If Alexi so much as sneezed, she’d send Rasputin a request.

His powerful presence stretched,

He was no longer just a guest.

The Empress often spoke of him with zest,

The public began to express protest,

Or would address in jest;

“Look at how he’s dressed!”

“Isn’t he the best?”

“I heard he’s possessed!”

“He always suggests.”

“He’s a fowl fucking pest!”

“He’s sucking her breast!”

“He lives in excess!”

“More like sexcess!”

“A man of God from Tobolsk?”

“He’s surely blessed.”

“His eyes can molest!”

“I fucked him! I confess!”

“Give it a rest!”

With the Tsar on the Battleland, fighting World War One,

Alexandra mothered the Motherland, and mothered their son.

Rasputin opposed the war, but still offered his prophecies,

The Empress was shaken to the core, and implemented his policies.

Key religious and militant men were removed from their offices,

To be replaced with others who were, at best, mere novices.

The Russian army faulted, and the resultant resulted;

The public blamed Alexandra’s occultist consultant.

Rasputin! Rasputin! Rasputin! Rasputin!

Felix Yusupov was disgruntled and disgusted by the Tsarina’s supplier,

So, he and two other men congregated and conspired,

They all agreed that the situation was dire,

And arranged to “retire” the debauched liar and Friar of Desire.

They invited him to an event that he couldn’t refuse,

A palace party with loose women and booze!

“Go into the basement, the parties underneath,

At Yusupov Palace on December 17th!”

He arrived at the palace, ready to indulge,

However no Miss, Mistress or Mrs. was there for his bulge.

There was wine, there were cakes and even a fireplace,

The edibles were laced with cyanide poison and toxic waste,

Suspiciously, Yusupov the snake didn’t partake,

Claiming that sweets and wine gave him toothaches.

Rasputin helped himself and soon became drunk,

He began to sing and sway and chanted like a monk.

The Prince watched in awe as an hour passed,

Was the poison was more effective as a gas?

He grew impatient as Rasputin finished the baked bread,

There was enough posion to render three elephants dead!

This is anticlimactically unfinished, and I apologize. Cut me some slack. It was 4 in the morning and writing a Seuss-esque story about a Siberian mystic is surprisingly fucking difficult. If the reception (assuming that there's any at all) is decent, I'll finish it.

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62 Reviews

Points: 2003
Reviews: 62

Sat Sep 19, 2015 4:12 am
Poopsie says...

the first reply on The Profane Parables and Other Nihilistic Narrations is a guy named hopeless abandoned. God I love this site

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93 Reviews

Points: 5000
Reviews: 93

Sat Sep 19, 2015 3:58 am
HopelessAbandon wrote a review...

Hello! Here for another review! This is my 80th review yay!

Okay, so I'm not great at reviewing poetry, but since I've reviewed several of your other chapters, I'm going to try. :)

touching crime,

How do you touch crime? The rest of the things in this list seem pretty literal, so this one kind of threw me off.

He’d now preach to the peasant population, behind a crazed, glowing stare,

This line is too long and doesn't fit with the rest, I would take out a word or two if possible.

There was once a Russian Tsar and ruler, a long, long time ago,

I would start a new section here.

And where does he get off always preaching his creed?

“Closer to God” because of his decreed misdeeds?

Having two words that sound the same, like "creed" and "decreed" so close together makes this section sound awkward.

“He always suggests.”

Although this may be grammatically a complete sentence, it leaves the reader thinking, "suggests what?"

The edibles were laced with cyanide poison and toxic waste

This sounds awkward with the rest of the timing.

I liked this! I bet it took a lot of work to get all the rhymes etc. And you were quite clever on a lot of these. :)
That being said, I don't really understand how this fits with the rest of the chapters, but maybe that's the point.
Pretty great job for 4 in the morning, but yeah, I suggest reading things aloud and maybe revamping a bit.

Hope this helps! :D Great job!

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894 Reviews

Points: 444
Reviews: 894

Sun Aug 30, 2015 2:46 pm
PenguinAttack wrote a review...

Hi Uriah,

So this is something else, hey. I'm not entirely sure what to make of it. To be honest, I'm not at all a fan of Seuss, so that's one problem. But we will buckle through and see what we can make of this bizarre, long poem.

Your rhyme scheme is dodgy at best, some of those rhymes are almost nearly not rhymes (slant rhymes) and in some cases you decide to have no rhyme at all. I hate rhyme a lot, I usually find little purpose in it. I understand that this is a parody of Seuss of sorts, so I can come to terms with the rhyme but I do think you need to put a little more effort into how you're doing it. In the same vein I suggest you read this aloud at some point. While most of your lines are well situated you have a couple that run to long, so they become somewhat awkward in conjunction with the other lines. I suspect you can do better.

It is a very anticlimactic ending to the poem, I'm not sure that you're going to get the response you may have desired on this. You published a lot at the one time and that often really puts people off. However I do think you have a lot of innovation and an interesting take on historical events, though I'm not really behind the somewhat controversial way you've chosen to express that.

I haven't read your other works at this point, the other chapters of what I can only hope is a very odd collection, so I hope I haven't missed something vital in deciding to read this one on its own. In the end I suggest reading it out loud to fix some of the rhythm issues from long sentences and check that rhyme scheme, you've been a bit lazy there.

Good luck with this!
- Penguin.

the only theft here is of decency when carina decided to rob me of my pride and put me on a banana
— veeren