Alchemisland

Smashing the asherim, dash names from Annals

Manful Anakim a hundred hands tall, even a giant can fall

With the right sling, the right ball, just the right amount of force

Asherah of the ibex and the sacred tree

Roebuck in the thicket, goddess of three, Robert G muse had seen

Historical scenes he could see through, discerning further meaning occulted within

He was a sequel, a god’s equal due plaudits, the sequel to Claudius, on Deia with an audience

Pious kings have stronger reigns, the god-piloted committing violence on the idols

The removal of the high places, the breaking of Moses’ bronze snake

Astarte’s sacred ḳedeshot with gelded manhood kittensoft

Outlawed and told to shut up shop, no more divinatory backshots

Hooded and asked answers in defilement’s temple

A son’s destruction to stymy ructions, to uphold the city’s structures

His running blood thickens to an unguent on the dagger, sludging out the puncture

His royal blot spilled in propitiative wickedness pleases Chemosh 

Whose favoured votive is jihad, gallons of gallant blood paint the land

Every man becomes a fool, a drooling population ‘comes a granfalloon

The tattoo of those armies across the sands like a thousand spearleggged millipedes

Forth sallied, holes and long trenches through which idols were dragged, war in stampede

In ossuarial livery delivering unto unliving, forbidding beloved liberties

They march to places libertines live an set them ablaze

The brute force of their bronze age ways.