Who Killed Jesus? Who Killed Kenny?

L.E.W.I.S

Contents

1. Introduction

2. The Evidence

* Simon Says

* The Joy of Oral Hex

* A Rebel Without a Pause

* Two Stigmas for the Price of One

* Love Lies Bleeding

* Let the Dia (tribe) Increase

* Kill or Cure

* Conspiracy Tourettes

* (In at the Creep End) Prose Traumatic Stress

* God Save the (Future) Queen

4. The Suspects

* Mr l. Face

* Mr H. Shipman

* Mr M. Myers

* Mrs R. West

* Mr J. Voorhees

5. The Investigating Officers

6. The Victims

7. Credits

8. Weblinks and Further Information

The CrimeMurder! Morse was the Inspector Lewis was his Sergeant.

Morse is dead and Lewis has become the Inspector. Lewis must

now solve the most curious of cases. Who killed Jesus, who

killed Kenny? Can you find the killer and solve the crime?

The Evidence

Simon Says

Naked I stand awaiting to be curtailed,

Emotions are rollercoaster’s and this one’s about to be derailed,

Manufacturing the avenues of dissent,

As the judges stand silent,

It’s straight to depression by design that I am sent,

Critiques are misnomers cast about so loose,

As the audience hangs on the patricians every word,

My neck’s already a hanging in the status of the noose,

Opinions like people are divided as if muster it shall pass,

A pawn to talent show porn,

Another media darling in the ratings underclass,

Fifteen minutes fame in infamy as tabloids hounds,

It’s the disease of the nation facile puppet saturation,

As the core of the raw word in moral leprosy abounds,

Judge and jury and executioner act out word play banality,

So much that humanity is reduced to a compelling word,

Rather than being in essence an actuality,

Each act is objectified into segments so easily groomed,

Pre packaged freedom and love go hand in glove,

Is the consumer soon about to become the consumed?

Is this the case that entertainment thus means we’ve forgotten how to live?

Are we so impoverished of being?

That we readily passively accept paying for things that were ours to begin with?

It’s a ratings war and our minds are at stake,

And here’s a few words from our sponsors as we will be right back after this commercial break,

Illusory polarities define the boundaries to be debated,

Thought is a tokenism to its esteem,

As it’s no longer creative it’s simply created,

Who killed Jesus or was it who killed Kenny?

Never before have so few been able to make fools,

Out of so many,

The noose is getting tighter and the last rites clings,

For every actor taking a bow on centre stage,

Their stands far greater awaiting in the wings,

Any last words before my exile into flight,

If thine eye be single why thy whole body shall be filled with light,

The scaffold breaks and limply I hang,

Accosted and accused scolded and abused by another playtime harangue,

Canned applause is the last thing I will hear,

The applicant has lost,

As everything is whim we negate that within,

Soaked in maximum output at the lowest cost,

But the tone now has been set,

A chink put in the armour they daily connect,

A refusal to tow the line and bow to none,

And so we complied to create this media circus,

So from under their feet the foundations will soon be gone…

The Joy of Oral Hex

I feel like I’m doing time,

As the sex vampires secrete mime,

Manacled opposite sex in tow,

Courtship display to paw the beast below,

As energy exchanges,

The setting of sights from the rifles changes,

With idioms they create,

Suppressed ideals relate,

Happy meals or consumer steals,

Life is stationed on a plate,

Bow to the mantra of ‘we can’,

It’s the new opiate,

Enslave the rag red with blood,

Cognitive dissidents expose the brotherhood,

The cloven hoof we shake,

As the union of one we gaily create,

Looking for an internal schism,

We are offered greater freedom of choice,

Yet in reality it’s just another prison,

Pre-crime and thought patrol,

Manipulate and stagnate the hole,

Keep in line but never stray,

Watch the sun set on the empires bright new day,

Tell us it’s an expose of terror,

Who to hate it’s not for debate it’s for honour,

Square pegs crammed into round holes,

And so the merry go round grows,

But stop the world as I want to get off,

It’s not the flu vaccine coughing but the coffin,

In which they’ll carry me off,

Last one out turn off the lights,

Say goodbye to human rights,

Brave new world I beg to ask,

But they’d put me on the cross just for the simplest task,

They say you’re a long time dead,

But I don’t want to sleep instead,

I’m not a convict nor a convert,

I’m more a subversive waiting to subvert,

Through the round window I go,

Like the white rabbit only more slow,

Drink fuels romantic interlude,

Semantics of ‘I love you’ only denude,

I stand before the curtain call with all the love I’ve accrued,

The escape is moot,

As the sex vampire does commute,

A to z of the last square root,

Right angle dangle I remain mute,

Helter skelter Down the Manson chute...

A Rebel Without a Pause

The lines of sepia that the headlines play,

Accolade revisionism as the order of the day,

We are taught to sit like stooges at the gates of Janus,

Apply the chains that so convincingly contain us,

Hooligans out of order the media does replicate,

Whilst we are bottle-fed deception it’s the falsehood of negate,

Where’s the outcry when another bodies desecrated,

Another grave is dug an epitaph the eulogy to the consecrated,

An eye for an eye and the whole world is blind,

Nationalistic pride is a drowning tide when the dead are jingo kind,

Applied logic as reason creates political speech mystique,

Am I expected to comply with do or die?

So when I’m kicked up the arse I should just turn the other cheek,

Nice divisions created by the status quo,

Implicated into the cycle of consume and grow,

Adverts highlight the ideal suspected role supplication,

If you refuse to adhere we’ll apply rules of fear to curb your deviation,

Maintain social control with scientific pantheon process,

Splitting the atom was just the start; soon you’ll have a new deity to address,

Reinforcing dogma which is a bitch of a belief,

A constant headache of the psyche from which the pills they offer will give no relief,

Taught from an early age in the process of pain or reward,

Instead of creation and motivation its sin that’s applied and

In awe you must bow to the lord,

Pavlov’s dogs one and all, caged laboratory rats heralding the call,

In order to see growth one must see realisation,

The clouds of opposites clear to give reward to motivation,

Its only war that makes us seek peace and the darkness they

Cast that makes us seek the light,

Every dog must bark for its master but on there bones this dog gnaw,

If I’m misunderstood in place of there falsehood it’s not for want of trying to not be a rebel without ap-plause…

Two Stigmas for the Price of One

I met her at the bar her smile was beaming,

The leading question can I buy you a drink became saturated in meaning,

We got seated and she explained,

Ever felt penned in by the media role game,

I retorted and cavorted life’s either harmony or discord,

But at uneven levels it rises of its own accord,

She lent closer and whispered don’t be scared I’m not a ghost,

If you were catholic I declared I am Christ’s body and you are my host,

She leapt forward to kiss me a poet she exclaimed,

My sense of elation could barely be refrained,

Do you ever feel emotions are cages?

And language can no merely convey than to only restrict you,

That love is an illusion and sex a confidence trickster,

I returned the kiss and explained I’m no macho man who likes to play it tough,

That is why we die because we don’t want to live enough,

To feel love you have to have vitality,

To want to carry on against the con that equates in conveying terms banality,

She exudes her posterior and says with flare,

You mean bringing out that from within the interior,

Living life not choosing to obey,

In terms of prisons I have the keys to our cell doors let there be no delay,

I’m no intellectual onanist because that would be missing the point,

I have the crowbar to crack open reality, you have the cream to conquer and anoint….

Love Lies Bleeding

Into the boudoir of femdom I did mingle,

Sipping at the kind of drink that makes you see double yet feel single,

Prescriptive attire reels in the fish,

I’m atoning now at the well of plenty awaiting a granted wish,

An opening gambit of eloquence charms,

As the sea of plenty in obeyance suddenly calms,

Absinthes in absolution as my knees give way,

All because the lady loves her milk tray,

Do not adjust your bet as the slip in return is shown,

The going is good to firm as this bird has not yet flown,

Suddenly sedition escorts the ruse,

To gaze under the veil which only conceals to confuse,

It’s the dance of the primal Adam and eve,

As we shed our outer skins to inspire the world of make believe,

The scrying becomes clear as the medium is unfettered,

Empathic telepathic as the clairvoyance is never bettered,

Position filled as the job application is closed,

As the fabric between this and other worlds is duly exposed,

The pot thickens as the game is now afoot,

Love lies bleeding so I must cement the cut,

In the court of the may queen this harlequin must remain,

Confide his Zen to the regimen if his epistle is to logic sustain,

From Plato’s cave I shall emerge,

A dressed in attire to respond to the spurge,

A caressed by the down at heel,

Systematic ritual in the dark demands my five senses appeal,

Landlocked in by the plenty fish in the sea,

Taught what to expect is naught by decree,

Fused into the function box the trip switch is set,

As the tension mounts and desires do beget,

The end result is death by mutual consent,

To the jails of Coventry I’m castigated and sent,

My last breath reels back a coughing splutter,

From the cradle to the gravy train my cohorts only mutter,

Eyes dance in furtive syncopation from behind silken locks,

I left an appeal to not conceal but to reveal the secret of the black magic box,

Protracted by archetypes my mantras meet with Goldie locks,

No more porridge oats as once again I’m the black sheep of the flocks…

Let the (dia) Tribe Increase

Wittgenstein’s unspeakable has become a mantra for the truth,

A soap opera podium a veritable opium for those that remain aloof,

Struck between two political stones,

We start to straddle as the oil companies have us by the balls,

We are up the articulated impasse without a paddle,

Its champagne socialism but the bubbles have gone flat,

The credit crunch has us out to lunch,

As we become the economies doormat,

Our senses struggle in vain like a collapsed tent,

Meanwhile back at the top their engineering the age of consent,

It seems simple but eyes of myopic neglect,

Can never see you can elect but never select,

You can only jeckle and heckle,

While it’s all arranged for you,

As the stockpiles for a war on terror start to accrue,

Who’s the real terrorist I plainly ask?

The truth is hidden by a media scare mongering mask,

Prepare to be dumbed down like a television via remote,

If the pen is mightier than the sword prepare for me to ram these words down your throat,

As we blindly seek to play with hands of enlightened despots,

The noose around all our necks is slowly being tightened by too many knots,

What’s the alternative if blood or oil is the choice?

Let those with a consciousness state claim with a voice,

Or are we happiness machines where we wish to create,

Supermarkets en-trance whilst petrol pumps its self servile,

As brains on new opiates vacate,

Homogenisation into a consumerist thread,

As adverts create medication for a new yearning,

And withdrawal equates status pain as new relationships of power are implemented instead,

Crooked are the clockwork mice in the field that sleep,

Wind them up with libidinal adverts for the souls to keep,

Religion becomes strength through joy,

Yesterdays swastika is tomorrow’s rag doll toy,

We need to see beyond the wires that lurk under the boards,

Communicate and facilitate to the massive hordes,

And if the world is a matrix which some idealist dug,

My hands are a ready to change the memes and therefore pull the plug…

Kill Or Cure

Tony Ben:

“If You Can find Money To Kill People, You Can Find Money to Help People.”

Conspiracy Tourettes

De de de- ‘get your tin foil hat out’.

I’ve seen Obama’s face,

Now I’m a baal-liever,

Not a doubt in my mind,

For its Satan’s crest emblazoned upon Unilever,

Carry on Harold camping,

For it’s the true rapture I’m determined to find.

Jfk and mk-ultra,

Sirhan sirhan,

1950’s CIA lsd culture,

One giant leap out of tower blocks,

One small step into Nevada studio’s,

As the Apollo programme deceives the flocks.

Waco and ruby ridge,

The Wizard of Ozwald,

For the whom the grassy knoll tolls,

9/11 truth magnet on my fridge,

Info wars overdose on Alex Jones,

Anunnaki in the UK,

7/7 terror plot helps hold sway,

Jack the ripper’s got a five pointed plan,

As the Masonic conspiracy ushers in the new age of man.

I’ve got the Georgia guide stones on my mind,

Sleeper Manchurian candidates now remind,

Ok magazine for the ok bomb,

Timothy McVeigh’s a scapegoat from elohim.

Diana in the underpass,

Al-fired up for the underclass,

Osama bin laden bin hiding in a cave,

Happy birthday illuminati the ratings do save.

Marilyn Monroe silenced by fame,

Jack ruby red slippers joins the game,

David ferry fright wig across the river Styx ,

Clay Shaw hails Discordia in Ollie stones New Orleans flicks.

Watergate, Watergate everywhere,

A tap at the door and Howard e hunt does despair,

Three tramps at trinity for Dutch elm disease,

Jim garrison oh how Mrs. Warren’s commission does please.

To the devil a moloch’s daughter,

Bilderbergs and fluoridisation in the water,

Eye in the triangle of the great seal,

Washington’s occult lay out as the holy blood does congeal.

Meanwhile back at spahn ranch,

The white album offers out an olive branch,

Helter-skelter it’s squeaky fromme oh my ford,

Manson was the mouse that roared.

Area 51 and back engineered saucer craft,

Operation paperclip escape the war crimes draft,

Hollow earth and captain symmes, Adolf Hitler breeding Venusian bloodstock lines.

Montauk and the Philadelphia experiment,

The son of Sam gloats in merriment,

Catcher in the eye of Horus,

Mark David Chapman’s issued a double fantasy dawn chorus.

Cointelpro’s gone with the wind,

James earl ray for the sake of a white mustang was pinned,

Unabomber holed up in scapegoat wilderness,

At Mather Lake he was stunned by the Sacramento bee’s caress

(In at the Creep End)Prose Traumatic Stress

Pop culture has been wrestled down onto the floor and made to shout relevance,

As our minds vacate on platitudes of hate and create a catalogue of Armageddon’s in unison of a st vitus dance,

Televisual war now live on your screen for debate,

But the polarised schemata tells you who to hate,

Trying to murder the city that never sleeps,

Whilst hiding behind the false flag of 9/11 lurk insidious creeps,

Entertainment becomes facile deviation,

As we are turkey trussed into accepting war as just,

Daily it’s just a gradual process of grotesque self-deception,

We are being aspartame insulin force fed like truth decay to a ravaged diabetic,

Instead of guarding freedom it is initiating slavery that becomes the dialectic,

Like over consuming on media rapacious whores on autocue,

We are glibly seduced into our political power being wantonly accrued like some power mongering Cin-derella’s shoe,

Which side does the shoe willingly fit?

It’s the same old same old if you look for the flies you’ll discover the shit,

New boss is just the same as the old boss with dandier clothes,

Allowing these demigods to represent us in acts of sadism is nigh on short of morose,

We all need not be sheep and let the shepherds reap if we break the cycles of circles ever decreasing,

Stand up and stride forward with our dreams and we shall cease to be complicit in our own fleecing,

The menu needs editing and patriotic fervours gone off, as the main course of liberation is a thriller,

We suddenly see what it means to free and escape from fear the mind killer,

The just desserts is being planned as we arrive in numbers increasingly mind savvy and creation tooled,

We shall invert the mantra that sets out to enchant you from the definition of democracy to people rule instead of people ruled,

This incantation has like a train reached its final destination as the hex has been lifted by inversion of grammar,

The ritual cast like dice to last has released our minds from the grand slammer,

The prelude to come is the twisting back of reality from being in such an ordered mess,

I await the day without detention of decay or delay when I cease to suffer from prose traumatic stress…

God Save the (Future) Queen

Riot now.

God save the future queen,

The totalitarian regime,

They’ve made us a moron,

Libya potential terrorist bomb.

God save the future queen,

She ain’t no human being,

This is your future,

In England ’s dreaming.

Don’t be told what you want,

Don’t be told what you need,

There’s no future, no future,

No freedom for you.

God save the future queen,

We mean it ma’am,

We love our future queen,

God saves.

God save the future queen,

‘Cause tourists are money,

And our future figurehead,

Is not as sparkling as she cleans.

Oh god save her story,

God save your mad tabloid parade,

Oh lord god have media,

All future crimes are played.

Is there a future if no one resists?

Is there a future if the royal family persists?

Choking the subjects and freedoms just a dream,

In the future, it’s your future.

God save the future queen,

We mean it ma’am,

We love our queen,

God saves.

God Save the future Queen,

We mean it ma’am,

And there is no future,

In England ’s dreaming.

No freedom, no freedom,

No freedom for you,

No freedom, no freedom,

No freedom for me.

No future, no future,

No future for you,

No future, no future,

No future for me...

Ha-ha ever get the feeling you’ve been cheated?

Goodnight.

The Suspects

Mr L. Face

Mr H. Shipman

Mr M. Myers

Mrs R. West

Mr J. Voorhees

The Investigating Officers

Superintendent Tom Bolton

Chief Inspector Keith Peace Inspector DJ MING

The Victims

Credits:All Poetry by Keith Peace. Except God Save (The Future) Queen by the Sex Pistols, Reconstructed by Keith Peace

Images by Nacho Brown. Except Keith Peace Performing by Anna Ra.

Dedicated to the memory of Peter Steele, Danny Harris and Mr Hands.

All Poetry Copyright Keith Peace 2011. All Images Copyright 2011 S It Super Nice Images.

Thanks to all our friends and familes. Most of all Charles Darwin for making us all realise Gods just a silly idea.

Further information relating to this case can be found online. Please contact the investigating team with any information. Thank you.

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