The Throne Poem by (TPAC) Alexander Coppedge

Waves to ripple on grass, rolling in pitch dark tips, floats in the water a log this swamp's bog voices viewed shots figures fog walked smoke vapor life.

Steps creep beside the gigantic river that flowed, aside a wet bath sound traveling a path splashes, beneath flapping leaves reside there's bright eyes.

Locusts trounce by tips all this must walk forest, dust on trail zipping in a gust all it is by wrinkling, go first slowly then fast turn that low in the night.

Mirages desperately at a mound curling up a zip this mountain, seeking a fountain that's gleaming high, cries of pain loudly to leave or up walk a hill.

Life that is enclosed its tide state men torments, rippling dreadful ride it's disclosure hate torturing, seen souls lowest fears a slide dooming the liars.

Lightning at ray surging from sky making thunder, end of day the crackling sound its sharps flashes, pruning tones darkness way defies evil authority.

Throne targeting those who flee right justice put guilty, not any rats it hid to its nest for rest, exist it nice none among them paid it is price hurt fears.

God's say laws a Mount ruling to state truths way, to stay His facts known Lord's justice it's to trust, defy any evil watch He's our King of Kings forever.