The Knives On the Table
We’d gone in a convoy,
the doors of her car were blown off
An evil twenty swarmed out
from fields of Sunflowers tall
They tied Her Sacredness to a fence
gagged her that She’d not reproach them:
their scabbards empty of their treachery
Such evil drawn out
upon the dastardly ceremony
that hides a scoundrel from a conscience
“Kill her,” I heard the tall one bade.
“Righteous tyranny of the Gods
“can not be malice when obeyed
“Let the least of us wound,
“the greatest stab Her in the heart,
“the fearful give the coup de grâce.
Villains, villains, I shouted.
Halt at once this vileness,
these sneezed speeches
a phlegm of your diseased souls
A frenzied one spoke:
would fawn to the Council
and not to the Gods
She would banish our Sister
who champions the Gods
This impostor usurper
who takes the crown
would deny our true Priestess
her enfranchisement with the Gods
Let the Gods rightly
paint our true Priestess in
the light of Their Love, and
make her star brighter than
the day of this puny planet’s sun.
Hasten us all
lest we’d be interfered with
in our noble cause to
stab out the usurper
Draw now the blood of Her Falseness,
each of you in turn do act:
stab out this blotch
But I crawled closer,
picked up rocks to throw
Sazrgk no! You of the least
do not now promote yourself to fiend
Let them have their honors.
Sazrgk, if you’d save your soul
take your mercy and go
But Sazrgk stabbed her in the shoulder.
’tis true: of weakness cold-hearted, he
did indeed plunge his dagger.
I screamed the ancient kinesis:
I became splattered in red screams
drowning in oceans of slaughter that
pulled me out of my mind with
a fury that engulfed the sun, and
made it set in vomit
By T’ukmpuxogt bold
the sunflowers were decapitated
in exploding shards of skull, and
headless bodies were
strewn across the road.
Thus I protect my Love
the only true Priestess.
— Douglas Gilbert