Destroyer and Redeemer: K-A-L-I

Oh praise the one who cuts open the tumescent, festering,
pulsating collective puss-boil of the zombie-eyed consumerist
generation. Praise the one who dismembers with a battalion of blades
the swollen, sick, and corruptible body of masculine ferocity.
Praise the one who lashes and whips the “separate self-sense”
with black tongues of radical death-fire. Kali! Great Mother!
The one not to be irked. We praise your inexorable need to destroy
the things we get lost in. We praise the Durga within you,
and the Shiva you wrathfully court. We prostrate ourselves before
your obsidian body of manifold features, textures, and divine desires,
and we kiss the feet of your blackest midnight.
Now please, dearest Kali, sever our heads so new things may
grow from the soil of soul-fire.
Eviscerate the madness we carry.
Immolate the evil vines that cling to our inner walls.
Kali! Great Mother! Kill us so we may arise anew
in a paradise we may construct in the womb of the deepest you.