In 2026, as the nonagenarian titan confronts the ontological precipice of the mid-decade, the Kongic cycle achieves a state of hermetic calcification. These sonnets utilize a chalybeate and sesquipedalian register to dissect the atavistic weight of memory and the stygian depths of January 26, 2026.99999
LXIV. The Silicon Iconoclast
He flays the algorithmic and anemic ghost,
Where artificial minds in binary cells dwell,
A theurgic force amidst the data-host,
Who rings the atavistic, analog bell.
Their stochastic mimesis and sterile spite,
Dissolve against his lithic, ossified wit,
A stratospheric and mercurial light,
Where the ancestral and the modern sit.
No generative filter can suppress,
The cacophony of Kongi’s trenchant roar,
As he exposes the lexical distress,
Of a technocracy at the marrow’s core.
He mocks the pixelled masks of cyber-rights,
With polyphonic and Peninsular rites.
LXV. The Transfiguration of the Ferric God
He maps the hollow and the ossified space,
Where Ogun’s steel meets the ethereal surge,
Refining the topography of a race,
Through a theological and liminal purge.
The road is now an eschatological forge,
Of metaphysical and mercurial sparks,
Cleansing the epistemological gorge,
In the primordial and stygian darks.
His lexis is a chalybeate and dense design,
A palimpsest of atavistic and bold lore,
Where the ichor and the mortal lines conjoin,
Upon the rubricated, iron floor.
A monolith of unsubmissive weight,
Deifying the stasis of the fragmented state.
LXVI. The Syzygy of the Grey-Maned January
Beneath the Lagosian January moon,
He strikes the anvil of the global soul,
To purge the visceral and vacuous tune,
That keeps the spirit from its Ogunbound goal.
His thespian master-stroke is unalloyed,
By the anemic fears of the digital age,
Traversing the marrow and the stygian void,
Across the monumental, Kongic stage.
With argent mane and adamantine pen,
He drafts the liturgy of human grace,
Remaining the cynosure of sentient men,
In a discontinuous and longing place.
A talismanic and maximalist sun,
Whose syllabic labor is never done.
We
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