Side winding spinstress angel mechanics
dance within your being
in fact are your being
every move you make ends in orders
given to a billion molecular magicians
who shuffle and shift like blazing wildfire
to interpret and fulfill the task given them.
“your life is ours” they say,
pledging allegiance out of an inner adherence to the code
with which they were written.
These, little luminescent love dots are your personal sons and daughters
of whom you give birth to every day.
every day, every second, of every sleeping and so called waking hour
they play and huddle, play and huddle
retreating to skycaves rejuvenating shadows
only to emerge again in the heart searing heat of solar fire.
your exchanges are written neatly in a luminescent script
within the walls of your own inner temple and the magic blips
are bricks with which you construct or destruct
according to the latest mandates declared by you
yes, you the dictator.
There is no choice in THIS matter,
you elected yourself to this position thousands of planetary sun moon cycles ago
and so it is, your word is the bonding agent,
a billowing mass of ejaculating sensations
thrown onto a concave purple plastic discus, spun around
then pushed down a steep smooth snowy hill.
You hold every office in your nation
you are the treasurer, director of defense, internal affairs advisor, president, vice president, HR, PA, CO, CEO. Your job is never done
the MAHA OVERLORD of a trillion shining rainbow monkeys tattooed with ones and zeros,
the book of your nation is written
the divine secretarial skills of your living operating system records
all negotiations between other nations, hostile or otherwise
giving aid or selfishly secluding.
your nation is governed by the laws
you choose to create
are governed by the law
that creates all nations.