What is the disposition of my indisposition against the shame of their indispensable evil?: A poem 

What can I make of the contrarian voices? 

This is a misdeemed world; the sopranos 

rise above the turrets, on the billboards  

of buildings that touch the sky, for your 

edifice of lies. But I still hear the contralto! 

Where did they begin to tell the story of humankind?! 

Would their tales be sodden wood floating 

on a misbred high deep seas? I may just as well be an ignored tabernacle  

in the tavern of hypocrisy. The altar of adroitness amidst 

an ulterior ingenuity! Where are your moorings  

and where are mine? Do you take your opportunity in my  

expression and misgivings? I have lost many armies, and  

survived multiplicity of deaths. Even God, as Jacob, suffered  

rigorous labour (though no labourer was he), under the tyranny  

of Laban. Yes, they have always tried to make a Laborer of me! 

A convenient connivance, blackmailed me, with the hijacking of my true love. 

I don’t blame Rachel! I don’t blame Sarah! You can see how 

difficult it is to make evil suffer any comeuppance, between the ruthless  

souls of the deep-sea fish and its protagonist (Prakash Saint Paul). The power of this Age 

having thrust the world into the false illusory light of an unsuspected darkness! 

I have no wanderlust, but I am the oldest time traveler, leaving my mark silently  

on every inhabited world in the universe, as civilisation took  

shape and, itself, became the theatre of the entire macrocosm. 

Would I have been torn apart as Adam Kadmon…waiting patiently for his love  

to arrive, but only to be maligned by treachery in the advent.  

There has been rampant wanton destruction of truth and unjust annexation 

in this age! How evil triumphs out of it?! Can one-eyed Horus ever feel the reins 

of the chariot of his soul, salient from its profundity, like a nose from  

a Godly face. You know Hathor, this time round, still proves her loyalty  

to the treacherous Seth. I know, in the distant ages, she implicitly vindicated my dear mother Isis, the Empress who was dislocated from Atlantis!

Must the deep sea always want to swallow the Titans? How would Ouranos 

feel his resilient indomitability when every Atlantis must face its deluge? Just like Mars did? 

And many of his progenies be ensnared by evil to act against him 

to manifest his defeat (Can Chronos be blamed then for being vulnerable to the deep sea’s temptatious treachery?).  

Do you know the Piscean deep sea (fishy and illegitimate and morpher) Prime Minister of Australia, 

Anthony Albanese, was the evil Pope Clement the V, who was instrumental in 

the crucifixion and burning at the stake of Jacques du Molay (me), centuries ago! 

And what is the corporeality of love, that God seeks? Must love be perpetually falsified by the waters of Enki, 

that it then should be liquidated, and every morsel, manna of inspiration 

dissipate in the morbidity and mud of lies and treachery? What is the disposition of  

my indisposition? Does evil treachery feel triumphant in its own indispensability? 

I have not yet manifestly raged, even through the innumerable ages despite the injustices done to me? Does that shame  

the evil for their own unscrupulous absence of conscience that they exhibit without owning up any self-culpability for eternity?   

Mother Maria, you know, as I ask you, do they think my restraint is their perennial opportunity? Or should I execute their catastrophic deliverance?