Ghost in its Shell

 Its time to Ghost 

The Den of Ravens wants you! Its time to Ghost, and leave; 

stop burrying your dead, give up your name and cattle! 

You chosen lot, Nimrod, is to be the Hunter before the cleave; 

Lord Allmighty wants to push you into the mantel of Steven;

Samuel and Elisha!! Warp your twisting tourniquet; rattle 

the devils cage. The Ghost of Saint Louis in the scedaddle 

of Blues. In the Shellshocked  conundrums of Arkadia's Eve! 

The Den of Ravens wants you! Its time to firesale and stop!! 

Leave anything back, and don't look Sodom/Gomorrah behind; 

the salty nutcrackers are not yours to dispute, my resolute Knut. 

The tinman saving the paper-ballerina, while dousing in rot -- 

the dark flames of sickly sweet humanist addendums small blinds. 

Yours truly the living weapon -- "Be my shield and sword, grind 

my enemies to dust, as I sit on my throne!!" Thus says the Lord, Hope! 

The Den of Ravens wants you! Ghost in its mortal Shell, ye Virgo 

"Talitha koum!" May you exalt Youself, for Trouble bids you: "Come!" 

Make your cock into Bruce Allmighty and blow away the gloom Cargo! 

There's no Buzz in here, who you live Home Alone, with your Fargo -- 

Mothers and Brothers also bow down to Lord Jesus Christ -- Circe! 

No Federale can dispute it, for they are not above God, enchant your circles; 

try as you might swiping left on yours, there is no rhemedy for Mar a Lago!!