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Alláh'u'abhá (literally, 'God is Most Glorious')
By: Alexander R. Wilkerson

What is this?
The bohemian arch of your consciousness.
Yeah, that's it, go ahead and over-elaborate.
Your babel scramjet of a threnody.
What caused your drift from that big bang?
The way you generate razes my ego with hope.
So stop it, okay?
Yeah, so what if I'm a bastard son? Hold your tongue, you have one.
You bind my coruscating soul with your syntax of truth.
In the end, you are decadence to me.
You are Krishna, Elohim, Jehovah, Kami, Alláh, Ouranos, Apollo Phoebus.
My singed soul must taste metallic to your polished eyes.
Thanks to you I am calculous and scabrous (and sere too).
My voice a suspended scream.
My life a honed, neon trinity (for you have given me holy tourettes).
Your yellow logic is a mute cascade, Aten Ra.
Hued, sibylline, and chimerical,
I'm born sanguinarius (iterum)

Who'm I kidding? You're malleable. We can work with you.

Article Source: http://journal.ilovephilosophy.com

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