Secular prose and platitude
Blows like a sirocco
Across the plagued mind of humanity
Even scholars wade in the ford of literal comprehension
...
Sweet Pyrra who`s name means ' fiery red'
Deucalion sailed thy Moon Ship Ark
Neath azur`d sky of drowning dead
Themis floods the land so stark
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Sweet Pandora, my love
I am thine, the man Epimetheus who loves thee
`Twere not the fault of thee, Lady Pandora
`Twas not thee who released The Spites onto humankind
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We were The Great Libyan Nation of antiquity
From Atlantis on Lake Tritonis, our city was Cerne
We settled this prodigious continent, and those of The Occident
`Twixt Underworld and The Heavens
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From The Sea of Io, whence came Her wiles
I call to my love Eos
I am Cephalus on my isle
I see Her light of Helius
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It is the sixth century before the common era
Gynarchy is waning in Athens
Erechtheus is torn `twixt the ancient code of valour and
His lust for power
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Sagacious high moon priestess
With pallor lunar skin
With flowing black locks
With lips of rowan berries
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Can She hear my inner voice?
Or see that I`m distraught
These distich rhymes, so be fraught
With melancholy and rejoice
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Can not…………………………..can not think……………
……………………..can not………..where be the godhead? …………..
Need the godhead (the demagogue sheepherder of spirit leeching)
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A vault he opens; His holy sacristy of empty and faithless glee
Replete with all opulent gauds and blood-soaked currencies
Licking fingers in anticipation
Of counting his green bills, malaise securities
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