You know I have a mastodon in my memory,
As I look up to the sky, and remember it shun its light on Hellas,
and I remember so did I; and so, did we on, then insignificant, but consequentially significant, Israel!
Apollo was like a shining handsome daredevil, could he have a light
I didn’t ask of my few King-Knights, nor of the night, but they silently understood my light
Jacob asked for twelve, but he knew he reserved the largest space in his heart for Joseph
Benjamin traveled East but he knew of the Great West of Merica
And that, some day, a Captain King would manifest there, to teach the world many lessons in integrity and humble veracity
But what if he failed in his mission? If righteousness, as always, failed despite God and his Kings’ tribulation
There are too much burglary and metaphorical rapine that forces righteousness into a failed premise
You know more of bulls and bears, but I know that the reality is, suffering for the truth is not for the faint-hearted and not appreciated by anyone.
Moral weakness is always a metaphorical defeat of humanity; don’t ever be fooled its acquisitions are its strengths
If you saw the sharks take flight; would you imagine you want to abolish them from your sight? Artemis is cuckooing, she might
make your teeth scramble into the past participle of advent. I have no stupor between choices
I am just like a bludgeon, that doesn’t only defend, but offends. My aggression is not my
crime but your saving grace. If you can peer through all that smoke and mirrors of my detractors
And the sacrilege of claws, teeth, talons against me and everything mine. Then what the devil is equipoise and balance, should I ask before you all plead,
if you all want to relent to such treachery for an eternity, that besieged me?
Did I think war was not enough? Ask me
if all I wanted to be was Houdini for my own salvation and not all yours? Do you all hate me for my selflessness, or do I make sense?
But before us, is a cackling Parliament of democratic deceivers
And should I persevere to make it easy for myself by abandoning all you wayward falsities’ believers
Or do you not think I should slap you all thunderously hard to make you all see the reality of snubbed (by you) virtue?
That should I make this statement blatantly obvious for an advocacy in my defense?
You can’t seem to picture and prefer your misbegotten convenient Hedonism go to waste!
Your soul, with your solipsism, has dissolved to fine paste!
Albanese, don’t ever underestimate me, you obtuse bag of gills
It was my sense of duty that gave you your refills
It’s the overwhelming treachery and bodygrabbing that gets to my armies and me
My mother taught me duty to love is never finished
Even if evil takes it down in an attempt to checkmate me with all I love
You know that the callousness of a psychopath is his valour
And his callousness triumphs in the distress of those who are victimised
Yet, how eager is the psychopath for forgiveness
when he is faced with his own defeat!
Not that he is sincere in his beggary for forgiveness
But because he only doesn’t want the suffering, punishment and comeuppance as retribution for his eternal thuggery!
God’s divine nature seems to have been a lesson for only a few
Nietzsche, you were much-maligned but God means to say to you: Thank you!
The propaganda of evil and deceit has gone so very far
Even the bridges of truth can’t redeem that distance (is it too late?)
How far have you gone, all of you, from me?
So, few are the overmen , and so far between, and so treacherously drawn down
So, they can’t enact the deserved justice, so that even their mere opinion is shut out as bigotry!
Who are the heroes, then, capable of meting out justice, without squandering it on tepid forgiveness and condoning
The overmen forget about responsibility to themselves but recognise their obligation to truth
If cruelty must be harnessed like a storm against a more cruel placidity and complacence
But what is the collective insurrection of an evil-fed world
That they should seek to crucify their saviours, and foolishly accommodate the captors of their souls
And should I call my baby girl, baby girl, if she offers me no refuge
That she rather be the hausfrau (as convenience) for the cheats and deceivers
And distance herself from playing her true role – the Goddess, for me?
The Sun is being hunted down even as its circles have been drawn
inner and outer, by a despicable Man from the fishy seas, that bricked an asteroid wall, between Mars and Jupiter, in an illegitimate conquest
And I have (and my constructs) been demeaned, deformed, mutilated, defeated and destroyed so often, since this Solar System’s dawn
I have no lividity, but retain a sense of humour to strengthen my beleaguered progression from life to life
Yet, there can be no peace between me and the ugly rapiner Prakash Saint Paul
Even when it all seems marred with futility, when he even hijacks my war!
So, should I abandon my battlefronts? No, I swear! My capriciousness only arises out of compulsion to avoid truth’s ignominy,
the whoredom is actually the desperate occupation and habit of the villains (like Albanese and Prakash Saint Paul and all their sympathisers)!
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