The King of Kings
I am the king of kings — that’s me!
Enthroned in kingly dress,
A trickster and a vagabond,
With saccharin caress.
The throne is stolen, yes that’s true,
And skulls adorn its place,
And I am underqualified,
And swimming in disgrace.
A million, nay a billion sins,
Are etched upon my soul,
And everything is putrefied,
The sceptre? That I stole!
I am the king of kings, indeed!
Yet I proceed from hell,
From bitter bondage never freed,
A flagrant na’er do well!
I am the king of kings — make haste!
And worship at my feet,
The fruit is rotten, trees are bare,
With witchcraft na’er discreet.
I am the king of kings, I say!
And you might catch mine eye,
Peeking from that poisoned tree,
The sun blocked from the sky.
So many shades of torment sit,
Like jewels within my crown,
My succour is catastrophe;
This train is going down!
The flies abuzz, in pirouettes!
They herald my domain,
The demons grinning, wryly pleased,
Damnation is my gain!
The end of time is surely mine!
With souls in bondage locked,
What IS this stupid fuss about?
I’m fallen — don’t be shocked!
My vision as a king is this:
Ignited kerosene!
Torched ablaze and bonfire bright,
To succour Hades’ queen.
Indeed, I must announce my bride,
The serpent queen I kiss,
The Whore of Babylon she’s called,
Her wine, my heartfelt bliss!
I am the king of kings up top,
In worship of myself!
The keen array of your dismay,
Like objects on my shelf!
AD Lovkis, 13/07/25
The image depicts “Allegory of Satan (Lord of the World)” by Polish painter Ludwik Stasiak, created around 1900.
adamdaniel 