The Gods Who Strike With Golden Iron Rod

Thou art holy with madness!
Your word is as rough as sandstone,
your cleanup befell upon us swiping our reasons,
end up a cadaver. scrap like an abandon paper!

Thou art holy full of loath!
Your beating swipe the naked bodies,
the stench is a sweet savor you endure,
a power of absolute fury, you sneer.

Thou art benevolent uncharacteristically!
Summoned the wise men unto their death,
pronounce a sham worship at your feet,
a mere soul as a beast stray miserably!

A pitiable mortal stoned of complexity eroded vehemently,
shrouded a cloak of steadfast absurdity, roughly you care,
a lifeless contention adduces a zest of senseless state,
prudently captured the hearts of dull deities,  
a shrewd cogitation mangled flawlessly,
mingled corruptions by the gods, feeble providence?

Tender dispute among the condemned soul, a golden iron rod smote the heathens,
they have smitten the bone of my people, the charmed accolade of false demigod,
an apostle of apostate bribe with 30 silver, brandishing the defectors mark,
a whistling sounds hit the Word scraping the fleshly wounded frailty frame, I bowed degraded!
Imputing the blood unto my vein, its course the life to epiphaneia, in perpetuity!


October 9, 2017
Sampaloc, Manila

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