newer novelty is needed

         
         
the archons are impotent, yet they         
have their cocks, deep in my doubt            
             
she might die by my hands, not              
deliberately              
but because the art ran away              
             
behind every great man            
is a thousand vindictive women            
summoning angry winds              
to weather raised obelisks            
             
I am not a great man            
these are the long arms of the alarm clock            
spreading the lily white ass cheeks            
of a poet     who forgot              
that all the best words were martyred              
             
Jedis catch more flys with Amanita             
than mead, and Jesus is Cubensis             
but these things can't quite translate            
when she acts as an aphrodisiac              
to the default rulers, who've nodded        
burning holes into the pendulum