Friday, January 28, 2011

The Russian Doll

Layers peeled like potatoes fated to a distillery,
Skin shed, time upon fractured time,
The powerful enigma, the Omniscient Cantor
To his hymnals of forgiveness and forgetfulness
                The hand of the artist revolves in cyclical indemnity,
                Guilt layered youth upon elder form,
                Structure confined to intent,
                The artist struggles with his own contempt,
                                Recoiling like a cobra,
                                Tossed from wicker, disoriented in vision,
                                Senses ruffled by the vicious flute,
Artistic indifference, fails to cast the mold,
The smaller self emerges,
As the open-world then withers, in its’ traditional regards, falling like snake-skin,
Slithering past the point of coherence,
Pushing through the blankets of confidence,
Arriving upon self-discovery, self autonomy,
Through the disenchanted illuminations of sinful hints,
Like a Russian doll,
Another mold for society to bend.

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