Orat Zeppelin XX (tbh)

The same in this room – it is gloomy. At angle and worst they are gathering
Red for revenge, grey-skin and heaving and having not of it. It comes in
Demanding an I for an I, tu for a tu silverlining in golden and winged, flag
Rumble roaring and tearing wide open, waiting to call on despairing and
Lonely in rupturous pause, apt predilection for cause and effect, worship
And wishing. That the flesh should rise, naked and asking to breathe, not
Ascend – that a face through the smoke should pretend to give shape to
A smile in the ghost, a flaw of the spirit; empty to most but the most in a
Miracle kept at arm’s length, a harm meant to clean from the waist up
And down, over and at it. Lap off upon me and drink, bound and fulfilling:
The rest of the dead will live on until thousands have shied from the killing.
Throne in an animal world, thrown in the natural sense, and sensing a
Cardinal vice, rebirth in the making; Lord of the Lord of the Lords who’s
Awaking and calling for truth. If angel must blow of the trumpet they’ll
Blow off me too, they’ll call to me knowing. I am nothing gained, all not
Showing – and yet I am named Revelation.


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