sheep
crimson clouds, viscous seep, cloak heavenly nations and
the wind no longer rises from its sleep,
leaving sky to steep in thinning blood of faithful sheep,
pure coated, deep,
in years, which thousands’ reap, of this momentous tear
from sunken crawling green eyes, as ocean morning keeps the clear,
witnessing forsaken fear of slumber at eternal moment
before self-sovereignty, as told by
static, boxy, Godly seer
within his risen right, his risen reich,
is curtly clenched a wordy spear, a scare upon the mass it sear;
this beast, a god upon thou ear,
sign marked by feast on righteous fear,
but for sake of he, his Trinity Three,
are forsaken the people, chose by Trinity, He
six and six and six
and five and two, this mix
and three through nine
they mark these sheep, a fatal sign, but
still these arms are claimed divine
“all hail this Cretan plaque!
this conception by one
from hatred made!”
these bounding clouds, for he they reign,
and hit the heart, the most reverse
a royal reaction the most perverse,
a catalyst for depth in earth
bound toward death in natural hearth,
while perilous cries tread upon breeze
as fireflies sporadic light the skies
these sunken faces amass in millions,
but save them the number,
and grant them a nothing-numerical slumber
-l.a.
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