The Throne is shaking

And many are wandering,
the pillar of the blue-faced angel
stood lost in the middle of the windy sands,
they were crawling from dust to dust
broken pieces called out for the death
through diamond waves
of the emerald ocean,
the marble ships of the merchants
are sailing towards her ivory breasts,
the throne is shaking
and the hollow king felt burning
on his pestilent knees,
his frantic face down
to the wide open ground,
the slaves never stopped singing
in melodious tongues of love,
the snake-skin rhymes
touched the foundation,
the cymbals and drums
are pounding
through the mouldering gates of Eden,
wild satyrs are calling from the electric caves
fundamental seeds whispering from underneath,
the first-born is bound to be
in mystical contradiction,
you called her by her many secret names.