Beyond
the pangs of province
arrives
a thrall of misanthropy
Existing
microscopic effigies—
built
in shade and made of quartz—
breaking
free of an entombed and cryptic core
A
ravenous incongruity,
interminable
and willfully wrought
deliver anathemas
of a kindred crux
Amongst
the valleys trampled toward
fragments
of misshapen rainbows form
Soldered
in a frost of flight, berated
by
time’s bating of reflective light—an
ever-embracing
mirror's luster dries
this
deadly visage accosts it’s gaze
upon
the severed recognitions it had made—
replete
with every corroded version of the self
ill-conceived
and lacking the stomach to abort
nice....really nice flow of though and rhythm in this...and some nice allusions too...the trampled rainbow of hope...lacking the stomach to abort is a nice yet somewhat gruesome turn of phrase as well...
ReplyDeleteps. i have watched V but that one came from the recent viewing of V for Vendetta
The torment of tantalus popped in as I read, episode title I can't remember from which show though at the moment, brain fart I guess..haha...but yeah we let ourselves get in the way even when we know we or it is wrong and keep on pushing through, usually doing more harm than good.
ReplyDeleteAwesome write, Fred. Those closing lines are amazing.
ReplyDelete'Corroded versions of the self...' another challenging, rending, and excellent poem from you.
ReplyDelete