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ConnectHook Apr 2016
ክብረ ነገሥት

Oh Sovereign of wisdom Solomonic,
forgive us. The wicked wax demonic.
Golden vessels fill with foulness
man is bankrupt, sold and soulless
Unsettling harbingers loom dystopian.
Sheba rises in dreams Ethiopian.


Tested with questions, her spirit once gone,
occultic suggestions postponed her dawn.
(Six-hundred and sixty-six talents of gold
paid Nineveh’s rise as Messiah foretold.
Go read it in Matthew, obstinate sinner
You think He intends to have Satan the winner?)
Her ruins now surveyed by satellite
beheld on the screens of the Canaanite:
canals to expose, southern deserts to cross,
Eritrean legends of Prophet (and loss),
the Ark of King Menelik—Kebra Negast,
treasures of darkness presented, now past
have us checking those texts that worldlings despise
as we wait under dread Luciferian skies.

Break the sixth seal of the seventh scroll;
let the thirteenth angel spill the bowl !
(or smoke it up in the courts of Heaven
till *****’s infinitude totals seven…)
Exhume Axum with the ****** of Marib.
decode the encryption on Adam’s rib
unearthed from some Antediluvian ravine—
Blast from the past: she explodes on our scene!
Seven oaths shall be sworn on her spectral beauty
(our Biblical transcendental duty).
The libation is mixed. Are we ready to swill it?
Beersheba? She brew ! Let us rise to fulfill it.
from sita to Saba fifth columns are ready:
Oh Sovereign — render their pillars unsteady.
For after explosions there’s mess to clean up,
and it’s worse than the horrors inside of her cup.
ክብረ ነገሥት
a  poem a day for NaPoWriMo2016
www.connecthook.wordpress.com
Nickolas Lawson May 2010
Sell me your god-thing
That I might contemplate
It’s face
Where is my misplaced
Faith
Along the edges of
My dream-scape reality
I have never found
Any measure of grace
Maybe it has been
Buried along with
The ashes of time
Loan me your Idol
That I might
Worship and bow
While babies and ladies
And toys of my youth
Are mutilated and tossed
aside
where is this prophet
of ages past
where is my lot to be cast
gods and demons and
devils called divas
have all led me astray
sell me your god-thing
your play-thing
your toy
sell me your rosary
his crucifix
your joy
allow me to borrow
your kabbalah
your quran
your bible
your talmud
your kebra negast
give me your god-thing
that I might have peace at last
send with it your
lamentations
your reservations
your contemplations
but keep your wisdom
I have found mine
in the vast

— The End —