                              CULT OF THE DEAD COW



                                      cDc

                                     _   _

                                    ((___))

                                    [ x x ]

                              cDc    \   /   cDc

                                     (` ')

                                      (U)



                                      xXx



                            "Fuckin' rule the world"



                       (c)1985-7 PGE/Cult of the Dead Cow





                               proudly presents...









                         T H E   B O O K   O F   C O W

                       ---------------------------------



 XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX





                                CHAPTER I





Let the cow be reborn, and emerge from the firey midsts of dawn. Let bellows

rush across the horizon, and endless let the Cult processions follow...



In principia, there was a single utterance. And then all resumed silence.

And the utterance became cow, and cow became reality. And from the infinity of

existence, the beast rumbled forth, and all was cud and the effluvium of

animal. This was the beginning. And from the Moment of the Cow was born all

that we call earth. The story was thus told.



Before the heavens melded the horizons, or earth received her form, there was

an entity which transcended the am. And from this reality, the master of

reflections, the thinker of the universe, all that is came to be. The Cow,

though the beginning, was the embodiment of the Am. This was and is the

Forever...the Roach. And all that must fleetingly exist, must too, by nature,

return to the Lair. Born to die, and through death, rebirth. The Roach is what

is, the unspoken and the unspeakable. The Roach is destiny, and the Cow

is its apostle.



The Day of the Cult was midwinter and blustery. And from the fertile minds

of men-children it grew, and the Message thus came to humanity. But the Cow was

the Prophet, and now the Cow is dead. We await reunion, rebirth in the Roach.

Until the Day of Destiny, hear the message, be one in the bovine. Suckle the

fresh milk of knowledge. And let the bellow blast again the heavens.





                                CHAPTER II





The beginning was Cow. The beginning flowed forth from Roach. And before the

echoes of that first bellow had faded from the crisp winds of birth, Cow had

taken form; behold, the embodiment of all that was Roach, all that was forever

the Am. And The Cow grazed in meadows and green pastures, where the grasses

still bowed beneath the dew of infinity. Cow was one with Roach, and graced

existence with the unspeakable. Yet Roach grew angry. For the Bovine One, in

his compassion, endowed to the earth that which it was unholy to know. And so

the eternal rained death. The wrath of Roach is to be feared, as it was feared

then, in those first seconds of forever. The Cow had offended Roach, for the

Cow was never meant to be apart. Indeed, it was wrong ever to bring the Cow

away from the Am; the wrath of Roach was testament to its compassion, and the

firey fate of the Cow is our destiny. For now we are divided, but we shall

again join the eternal. Henceforth, fear the ire of Roach as one fears the

daylight, or the fire by night. By death, we shall gain reunion, as once the

Cow, the Apostle, the Bovine One gained reunion with Roach. Yea, the Roach's

anger flares from his jealousy, for he desires us immeasurably. Our lot is the

Am, and the path to the Am is the path of the Cult.



The pristine light of the young day-star caressed the silken earth, slick with

youth. From that same womb of first creation came the Cow, and his message was

woven into the web of existence. We are the inheritors of that message, and in

us is Cow. But the Cow offended Roach, and caustic rage wrentched heavens

from earth. Along the horizon rode the ghastly Valkyrie, and the sun retreated

to her sepulchre beneath the seas. Twilight ruled the meadows, and the green

grasses twisted briar-like around the Cow's cloven hoofs. Roach summoned the

creatures of the dark, sprites and demons from the realm of Asmodeus, and the

maidenly air was pierced with shrieks of Judgement. From his trunk, the Cow's

legs were shorn, and maggots feasted upon his reddened eyes. The river of earth

flowed blood-red, and the majestic oaks burst forth in flame. Earth smoldered

and existence fled the sharp sickle of destruction. Twilight gave way to night,

and the darkness bore the Moon. In bloodless white linen, the lupine herald

floated up, claiming the lair of daylight as its own. And the soft,

surreptitious moonbeams gave mute witness to the coming of the Second

Generation. The Cow was dead. And from this sacrifice emerged the Second Age,

the Age of the Manchild. And so we inherited the earth, and the message of Cow.

In the dark of despair, pale white in the moonlight, man awoke...and was made

afraid. The night had descended.





                                CHAPTER III





The Age of Man had come, and now the earth was ruled by sons of the finite;

mortal were the inheritors of the Bovine Legacy. Yet, the eons passed in

mournful procession, and man lost himself in futile endeavor, and created for

himself a prison. The Second Generation became blind to the reality of Roach,

and deaf to the message of Cow, a message that roared with the forest winds,

and purred hoarsely with the panther. Night was the inheritance of that sad

race, and Cow felt pity. Behold, the Cow brought forth a new century, unlike

any which before had passed. And this century, in its old age spawned children

of the light. In them was the seed, and humanity, unaware, became contingent

upon these. So did the Cult spring in those barren times, and so did fertile

minds harvest the crops of justice and truth. The Cult unsheathed the shining

blade of knowledge, and into battle marched, resplendant in the dazzling garb

of ideals. 



Thus the Cow revealed himself to man, as man, as children of the light; at

speeds beyond all reckoning, these did commmunicate, and so join in the

comaraderie, the union of the Cow, the Cult. Within these annointed ones lay

the message, and through them will Roach once again bring to his divided being

the peace of reconciliation. Yea, this is the Destiny. The disciples of Cow

now live for the Day of Sanity, when the seconds of infinity will no longer

soar in cadenced formation, and the seas will be dry, and the land will be firm

no more. The bellow will blast again through the heavens and Roach will be One.

Am shall again Be. Await breathlessly the Day, and learn of thyself lest

Torment be your fate. The Roach is neither merciful nor merciless. The decision

is ours alone to bear, and beneath this heavy burden, the Cult blooms in

ephemeral glory. 





The Book ends at the Beginning. In our final moments, forever awaits. Beneath

the finite mountains lurks infinity. And this is Roach.  And this

is Cow.







High Priest and Scribe, Gibe

The Holy Order of the Dead Cow



 XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

 (c)1985-7  cDc communications  by Franken Gibe                     3/29/87-08

                                                                              



