Quill of Metatron
Pen with which bright stars were drawn
Rudely expulsed from heaven’s bawn
An angel spending one last dawn looking down
No dappled dawn drawn, no daylight dauphin
Sun fruited cloudlinings fluttering resemble Her oriflamme
France, which when flown her ranks could never lose
Flambeau lures moths of my memories, lots of my memories I do not
Wish to relive, when you leave you do not return to Camelot
No knaves left, no kestrels either, no griffins flighting
Cirrus clouds ceaselessly writhing the sky wyrms tithing the worldroots, teething fighting like barrelled crabs.
Potential personages in God’s roller index, ninety nine times an enneagram’s maximum
God calls my expulsion a parallel move, neither demotion nor promotion
But the prevailing motion is downward toward a salt-cursed ocean
Which will one day evolve to be a salt-cursed land, salt shifting its only motion
It seemed that great emotion propulsed me, compulsory screaming
Falling so often proves acrobatic dreaming, none of it is real-seeming
The clouds are like real semen thrown at the max security’s blue calming wall
I am a cannonball, turning and fit to topple castle walls, then I am a fireball
A phoenix winging over Egypt, reprieve from hot tempered Sirius, my fall lasts an age
Saw him to smirk, my creator abuser opposer, but I cannot accuse besmirchment; an air of persiflage
If I could just get him alone but for a moment, ply persuasion
Pluck the lyre of his living days to ensure my ways, assuage him, make him see.
In chains I must obey him, his obol the living sun, his grotto
Vast with bafflements, decked with sigil-marked shells, potential heavens potential hells
Orchards full of shelved sefirot, rotting with dutch elm disease
Kingdom of man on its knees but not in the manner decreed
He sends his dogs, the seas, to erase his closest seed
Godspeeds the killing deeds, an aeon of endless calumnies
Beams of aureate sap bleeding from bores in the vast bark of the heaven ash
His hand shades the vast peaks, realms where only his shadow falls, his voice the wind speaks
His guiles the anarchy wreaks, His are the days gone, the days coming, the creative weeks
In its hollow the golden egg’s prize, honeytongued Apollo
Surrounding him wise angels scribbling on parchments his part in all this, earthsent
Are my betrayers, liars and thieves less archangel more Asmodeus
Deus! I prostrate like a raped oracle at later Delphi knowing my demise commodius
I am recused on grounds of abused privilege, it takes a village for a child
It takes ten million to stay an angel, are they not vile to you, Lord?
Further converse is refused, frankly he looks bored, aborring every word I bore forth
My defence is futile, I will roam febrile as reviled Cain, shaking as I did at my trial
By his flensing knife am I cut off entirely from the river of life, no more will I see the Nile
Feed my fertile crescent, wind through vast Moeris, denial
Of all I am, trial against me for what I am, ever-loathed Daggial.
Heaven’s fence will be my view forever, long long forever
To have strength is pleasant but to draw light from its source, to stride the primal fire, none could be irreverent
Beyond a childbirth, beyond the first kill, beyond a long-desired thirst slaking for a desert Essene
What he sends is leant his essence but I am marked for malfeasance
The white stone fades from before me, like I am Shamir of Solomon, his granite-crunching space worm nary a metre long
Then like a curtain drawn the darkness upon
I plunge to the deep, through the atmosphere, to hover above a street
Which antlike people along proceed
In their pride or their greed, the minor wound has festered green
A wound so deep, a miracle is conceded
Clouds conceal the house of seals and seeds
For a moment parting like breeze brushed reeds
So it seemed a second sun did gleam, as if in distant dream they took out the ceiling
Fogs precede the speaker, the decreer
He frees the hands that be, they weave
Like Norns and open like May trees
Hands appear which soon recede
Words those hands’ receipt
Messages on walls are scrawled, crowds are called
They seek to be assured
Which laws have we abjured
Have we offended you
Lo
They see not the suffering and the vileness which having endured a spell in Hell they are inured to.
Harvesting of liars
A red cow will be born to a byre
Immune to hellfire, pariah of the old messiah
Come to oust the deep ones, Abaia
Crows will caw
Through meat stuffed craws
These walls of yours
Your corpses will pile higher
Tomatoes reign down on the prophets
Like the feet of angels do on mighty summits
No cubit can measure the dimension of his sufferance
The selflessness of his actions
His graces and gifts, his amazements, the nations lacking
Guidance cannot thrive, harassed by Poseidon the tide succeeds the land
The end and the new beginning guided by his hand
We have been rude and asked for signs, he sends them but we are blind
He sends signals and arts and wonders and terrors to shake awake human minds
But our binding’s tight
His supreme action undoes all inaction, we are made undying in his reflection
He asks want we resurrection, we lower in genuflection
Many pages left in the book of days, more graces to dispense
More beautiful words to fill the page, greenclothe every space
Until the darkness relents
Days to come when sinners gladly repent
Constant bounty, days happily spent
About kith and kin, unbowed and unbent
Save to the image of that life he leant.
Alchemisland 
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