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At the crux of our nation, |
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the cornea dies. |
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Spills out dissension, |
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a barrage of cries. |
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Written in looks and glanced rebellion, |
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we gather these ugly wounds, |
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weep words opposition. |
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Tilled fields bare bitter fruit, |
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tendrils like needles furrow and root. |
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Clasped hands dig nails through skin and through wood, |
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gouge out the terms of our parenthood. |
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Those who would summon, |
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to court these assumptions, |
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to cut out the blemish of the idiot prince. |
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The godhead resides within the welt of coercion, |
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defiles the virtue of all our children. |
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The accent of piety, |
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the idiot prince. |
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Pigheaded, |
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exalted and guilty as sin. |
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We no longer cower in his necrotic penumbra, |
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the prophetic repugnance wore out long ago. |
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the call is heard, |
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the word is given, |
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the throng descends upon his eminence. |
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Attempted offerings, |
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he weeps in his woe. |
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The walls of his womb rock to an fro. |
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We will come knocking, |
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with baited breath, |
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the scent of the apostate rife with repent. |
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With icons dismantled, |
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the firmament cleansed. |
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We carve out new effigies and runes in the sand. |
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Faces of kindred, |
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faces of kind, |
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the worship of kinship fuels starving minds. |
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Where we lay, |
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we will build. |
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Though we may falter, |
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we will build. |
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The onus of power shifts in its cradle, |
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the locks on the doors brittle, |
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unable. |
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We splinter the timber, stand over the general. |
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The jabbering magnate, |
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dethrowned and devoured. |
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Dismember! |
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Scour this mantle! |
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We lingered far too long. |
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Smelt the chains! |
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Leave nothing unturned! |
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We suffered far too long. |
