Azula Fear is better than Love
In – Valid – Date
I
Is your ID valid or innate feelings Great;
wanting to bring honour to King and Coventry.
Mostly to your family, alas your plate;
it was not cast silver, but stolen, contemplate
the rust between the dented iron, fatigued pry.
Just one glimpse to Heaven, but you shall not cry;
to pass your hours to Supper, greener pasteur's await!
II
Belate in valid notions, no pedigree to behold;
but a Nice Name, under worn out tongues cheeky
remarks, what forgat why you shant slap bold...
Give me a date for my Hearing, Oh Lord!!
Faceless snickering bodies carrying away, meekly;
another one bites the dust, who couldn't pay steeply!
If I but could dare believe – to pour on handmaids mould!
III
Cheated into Life, how do you Prophet? Profess thy Creed;
as lamp-oil and fine Wine prosper daily, are you even Free?
Another Barbarian NPC, to write their empty columns debris;
who cares for a falling amber or sage, yet to find breathe.
The spark, what never became Fire on an Altar, to dream!
What madness, Ravens don't chirp amongst turtle-doves, cream
their crops – such audacity – know your place, Aberdeen!
IV
What is more green and environmental, than Envy?
You shall not follow two Kings, either you love One;
hate another, or behold one, discard in vanity...
But what does that meme, then there's more meaning,
than can be summed up in a head or Sermon... Gone
is the Valour. Ichabod remains of Lords Chariots run;
none of the knights banners held high, returned to vie!
V
There is the Quest and the Champion, but chesters remain;
little boys playing around, what they gleamed from the field.
Long forgotten lie the battles, nobody stands up Believe – maimed
are but all expressions on the looks of women and children gained.
Not a single man wants to parse through precept upon precept. Shield
your face, make it stern like a Cliff, unmoved, void expression – yield
to the merchant and his Buck, stacking Personas together in vain...
VI
Who should God be seeking out? “Don't ask me –
I bought a New Bull. I need to touch my shit!”
“Not Me! I bought a house am happily married;
find someone else, as I give a fuck, go on Carrie.”
But the altar in front of El Shaddai was lit;
El Elyon sat in His War Room, surrounded with
legions of Angels and Demons – “Make em kneel!”
VII
“Who shall go to this time and preach?”
Whiteraven came, took a knee, “I Sire,
I shall be Conflict upon them, I shall besiege
three aghast two – the Karens screech!
Their marrow diluted with cope – admire –
what all I can due, on a needle thread the Shire.
But then Poof, its gone, two against three sledge.”
VIII
“Take your Crown, Conflict, for you shall pass!
Make way, so War; Famine and Death could come:”
In Validare et Spitfire Durnum, encompasse
the meany, who didn't wear a beany fencesplitting amass!
Who could blass more crayons on thy umbrella stung?
Superman is in da house, to roll under the rocks hung
up in the shape of another Almost tree, who shared chess.
IX
I'm – Valid – Caryatid. Looking back like Idit!
Stoned at the gates and in the walls, forgotten;
then others there picked from the Mountains clint;
but not this son of a Cliff. Wasn't Eastwood to redit!
No redirect or subpoena to divest my shame to Potters.
Broken shards of clay, sullen silver, dark matters.
For another mad hatter, who lost the Postal Ibid...
X
My Jesus Lives. After I done my bidding;
even if I forsake my face and renown.
Somebody else dwells in my lodging;
riding my poems to the booker, Hoggins!
I'm bugging myself, to stumble and Fall gown.
Let them see the rot inside, to frown;
be blind and see no more clowns Mrs. Reeding.
XI
Missed readings and pompous prose for opportunity;
then pious is no longer thicker than Solomon's loin!
A Son thus said, lost a Kingdom gathered by Unity –
very well, Pathos needs to hew the path to Insanity.
Then David's not good eunuch, find some betas coin.
Toss it inside the lot, and make it roulette toy-in!!
Who can lootbox around the Beet, to build this City?
XII
Patros vs Uranos, who shall be the Victor – derelictor;
deers licking the salt at your defenestrated wounds!
How many bucks do you give, or a click; clit; shit store?
Defragmenting your PC into Sturm und Drang gore;
wombs entombed dear, Der Arsch Gratia Artis hounds.
I shall release all the Wild Hunts to catch one Witch sound!
Why dost God need, who still ponder on leaf-carry bored?
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