Puzzles: death, or, disorientation

Tis a chasing after wind, said solomon, chasing his god

In my poesy, arise goddess, on religious crest, ask in fire-breath,

Swallow every single morsel of vanilla sexist, that oppose her, I,

And domme morrigan, lie control female flesh, men and their

Tracy’s, will she smite them in their evil, and hate? Nay, goddess

Raises fire-breath, opposes every life, even mine, too, in her web,

Jaws sit open, plans ahead, awaits my lesson,

Wind disoriented, my being, a lie twould seem, mine own,

If I fancied, in the end, I’d escape domme morrigan, fool, I,

Men with their Tracy’s and lies, same fate us all, good, holy, evil,

Await the bugle call, but winds sweeping ire, await the fools call,

Delivered, at last, back to living truth, in jaws goddess, tis said,

Don’t please take yourself away from me, disorientation, I said