‏The Golden Scarab Necklace


I take my leave
from a language that knows me
to the mother language
our common mother no longer the One and same
… …. …
I am learning the silence of your scoundrel dagger
you will not recognise my face
you used to identify my voice when I was your sibling (brother
now the heritage of our father not enough to intercede for me or you
only the visages of the Raven
….. …..
 ….I take my leave
Shrouded by the enigma of the Meroetic language
with the purity of a running river
a covenant of the True River binds us
Blood binds us
we are bound by the Museum of the Mother Scull
and between us the fallacy and deception of Thrones


*Kurdofal the mistress of the temple or is it Meroe
*Fazoghli grants incense
Alice proudly guards the sacrificial feast
the clay shines 
its pottery shines proud of your prophetic blood
… ……
the Boy fathered a Sultanate
from the blood line that fathered the ancient Sultanates
the impossible kingdoms and the possible ones 
in the glory of his ancestral banners
a boy who fathered the ancient sultanates the impossible kingdoms
and the possible ones 


here the King in his morning bath immersed in his Kinghood
a looking class hanging from the wall of miracles
to deprive a Virgin of her fragrant lust and longings
… … … 
for my Bull I dye my hair a real alloy not a snatch or captive
I anointed his bed with the perfume of Khumra and incense
make ready the jars of coquetry 
a Bull bequeathed its horns from the people of AANAJ
his hove kicks from the Equatorial Sun
… … … 
This the night
the scull of the spoiled (pampered, mollycoddle) King is my drinking chalice (goblet)

I, the Scarab of the Kingdom!

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