Coronalis (poetic remix of E.Pound’s Usura, Canto XLV)

“Corpses are set to statistical banquet
at the behest of the UN-WEF-WHO”

With Korona hath no man a health of his own
each sleeve forever furled and yielding
muzzles cover thy flinching face,
with Korona
hath no man a mind of his own,
painted Iris’ drawn upon window panes
A colourful invocation, harps and lutes adorn
the Gates of Hell, whose damned seethe full:
One hand bringeth fear, the other jabs, for me
there is now no Other, only the One!,
great chain-of-being, undone
the unbegotten and unbegun.

Seethe no man his uncles or heirs, his concubines
on deaths bed, are made not to endure
his home signed-away; sold quickly
with Korona, sin against Natural Law
is thy head ever-more of cue-tips sore
is thy brain-barrier pierced again
no poise, no attempt at pretences
with Korona, their lies grow thick
with Korona, no clear demarcation
for no man can find reliable datum
nor leave his allotted biome
seeker is kept from his stone
lover from his girlfriend’s home

Bull comes not to market
Sheep bringeth no gain with Korona
Imperialis Collegium is thy murrain, Korona
hath thy blunted minds in Medea’s hands
and world’s stopped by the spinners’ cunning.
The Reichstag was burnt by Korona
The Liberty sunk too, thereby
thusly the Lusitania was torpedo’d
by Korona
the Towers free-fell and thricely
and the dust swirled-in a new Pearl Harbour
Maddox gunned-open the Doors of Perception
and babies were offered no Amnesty,
left besides themselves, still incubated
long before Wuhan sneezed
wars were fought over the price of sugar
and we sought WMDs amongst the desert shrubs.
Thus our world was diseased, furlongs deep
before Ferguson came a’riding, roughshod
and bareback upon the Beast of Korona
pale as a mad Cow with cloven hoofs
with predictions that culled thy sheep and cattle
and did for-evermore, by stale regulation
crusheth the smallholders’ will
as Korona rusteth the chisel still
it rusteth the craft and the craftsman
no more good ales shall Korona permit to be brewed
it gnaweth the virginal petals at bloom
a blossoming long overdue, set-back

Some were poised to weave gold in its pattern
Azure assuredly so; Musk greweth like canker.
Adreno drained blood from the minds eye
glistening like Chrome in a dark night-sky
crimson thorns, dis-embroidered thy inheritance
our cells they say, shall now spin another’s code
Emerald grows too slowly in the bosom of Earth.
Korona: the first and last Elephant in the room
truncating destiny within an artificial womb
that aims to slayeth the young man’s courting
it hath feigned morality for a face, it lyeth
between the young bride and her bridegroom
They have brought whores for Eleusis
Corpses are set to statistical banquet
at the behest of the UN-WEF-WHO

– Coronalis, Thom Forester (2020), based on Canto XLV by E. Pound.

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