The noises of a long-ongoing theatre
of shadow play from the submersibles
doesn’t deluge the starlight of my memories and convictions!
I am like an incandescent flame of myself
through every echo permeating through
each morsel of sand of destiny!
Do you think what is fated is not fated?
Or do you think your loudmouthed edictions
take the ordination away from the preordained?
Even your tallest scaffolding of steel
erected by your fish Laborers, that get active
after I shut my eyes; to rapine my armies;
can meet its Babelly end, if I decide on it!
Does the Australian Federal Police serve you robbers
(Laborers), or should they not shut you up in wells of hovels?
Labor thinks its thievery will get its members
their knighthoods in the night of their worked-out debauchery!
I am not as tired as I seem to be, you may be alarmed by that fact!
That even my soulfulness can be vindictive!
Don’t think Demeter can be yours to have
when you have tried to domesticate her lionesses
by an intimidation; and your collusion, with the utmost
evil (PSP). You can only have brine, not earth!
I am still Pater Familias; older than old, patient as eternal patience;
Greater than any grandmaster. I can drown you, Laborers,
and your Piscean leader, before you think
you can paddle with two oars or four! Do you
know your numbers well, or you think you can gladly
garner posterity by confounding, by your rapine of 24?
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