King of Kings: 1-90

1 A plume of dirt and grime envelops sky; The hellish slug of gas does creep along. It casts an orb three hundred stories high Over the Sun and ends his morning song. The birds and trees now stand a silent throng, Before this rumbling mass with lightning veins, Announcing from its depths un-living Wrong. The cloud unveils from its ashen rains, A haunted prow so steered by sinewed mains. 2 Behold! A rotted snout in shattered disrepair, Reluctant nose of mad, titanic head, Emerging from primordial earthen air, The Lizard King returning, dripping red. That oily blood His putrid skin does shed Out from the seams ‘tween rotted flesh and flags That iron wired stitches weakly wed, An undead Rex in form with skin that sags From conquered kingly flesh and bannered rags. 3 Revolting stench. It wilts the grassy blades As He does near, the fields bowing low Before this Beast in sickly browning shades He leaves behind a wake that Death did mow And only offers wretched blood to sow Those massive drips of blood in rhythmic beat Do form dark ruby ponds so far below But kingly blood alone the ground does meet This monster floats in air, no legs or feet. 4 Above the Rex’s form, a massive wing: A host of silver zepplins bred for war; They bear upon their sides a scripted ring of “DEUS EX MACHINA!” circling core; On this he hangs suspended from the floor. Supported by three slabs of giant stone His body seeping t’ward the dying moor Devoid of proper structure, missing bone The makeshift monster slowly glides alone. 5 Protruding ‘long his back in lumpen form Stand satellite receivers, glossy white The china saucers cut through ashen storm And throw back to the sun his hated light They crave instead the call from Endless Night Eternal Acheron, the void of space Where floats the Ferryman in powered kite They hear his oar disturb as he does race Across that sea which life and death encase. 6 His vessel only seen among the dark Imposter laid amidst the noble stars Revealed by its constant moving mark For Charon never sleeps, each night he mares An undisturbéd sky he always bars That Beast, he makes it so from constant blight Upon the land, his stooges, kings and czars They gladly do his bidding claiming right To speak for God through horrid death and might. 7 The fools, their eyes so blind to monstrous ploy Mind not for what the King of Kings commands Who seeks all life outside him to destroy He only satisfied in wasted lands His subjects there he lovingly remands The forests felled, the creatures turned to slaves To serve the Great Machin’ry’s many hands The kings and serfs alike would claim He saves They freed from States of Nature and the Caves. 8 “How good this world be!” They do exclaim. “My every need be eas’ly met No fear of violent death that horrid game I gladly place myself in Rex’s debt My loyalty upon his feet I set To vow upon my life to fight for him His en’mies hated blood I vow to let Upon the floor, in crimson baths I’ll swim Eternal servant be, it glad or grim.” 9 Recited by the Monster’s brood this theme Those men and women housed in flesh are plugged Into that ghastly Monster’s crimson stream. His blood they sup, in ecstasy they’re drugged; So tethered they remain, this tubing lugged. A bloody feed injected at the spine It weighing down their necks, the shoulders shrugged embedded by a vice of angled spikes, this line. They mind it not, so drowned in pleasure fine. 10 This gift, the beasts convincing drapery that hides a sickly bride ‘neath ‘lectric veil Displaying text, it reads “SOCIETY” It crawling left and leading lettered tail Across that glowing screen with reddish hale But disappearing at the Western seam Returning only at the Eastern rail This scrolling pendulum’s hypnotic stream So grips our sated eyes in pleasant dream.