Reconstruction

I wish you well

I wish you right

I spell your name

Upon my mirror’s fog this night

Fatigue is but a severance

Cutting short the light inside

Shaking, trembling, fading quick

Not sure of the words that crash you down,

Not aware of what it was that worked you up

Topographic

Buildings grow

Gut the earth

Kill the dirt

Transplant the soil

Converting the natural

To cold concrete and steel erect

Didn’t we learn, not to try and touch the sun?

Was the message blurry, was the eyes fogged up, could you not assemble the warning that the myth constructs?

Alas,

Daedalus,

Here we come

again

Transformations Among War-Bred Kin

The doors are open over at the pub.  Open Link Night is in full swing.  Stop on by D'Verse and check out all the great poetry in play, and while you're there, link up one of your own.

atop charred earth, decisions remain

   when foliage stays,                                   

                                  does our soil yet still grow?

Trampling beasts

                  hunted, scared

                           as herds of men

                                             frolic near

Ensiferous and cruel

the blades weep

for outcomes likely due

Stained

                           by

                                    the spots

                        we grow

Shedding our skin thrice in life

        the disconnected cord’s the first

            followed by the innocence of youth—

                      here is where mutations spread,

                                 altering the balances—

                             and the last to leave

                         is the transformation,

                  as men, we’ll never see

The Mephistophelian Provocation

Well, I'm a bit late to the pub this week, but I'm thankful that Claudia kept the doors open as I definitely needed a poetry fix.  And that of course means that, as is the case for every Tuesday, Open Link Night is up and in effect over at D'Verse.  Stop on by, read some terrific poetry and while there, link up a poem of your own for others to enjoy.  Cheers!


I. CAGE OF SIN

In this age of terminal belligerency

A hex, a pox is placed upon thee—

Tingeing forth the pummeled plant

pressing through the groveling glass—

Thine heirs be slain,

in judgment for thy sins,

Each those chosen prior to

and the ones yet coming to pass

Silence these ne’er-do-wells

housed enslaved, voicing perditions

for which man’s inner weakness craves

Dwell in the aged moment’s freeze in time

linger long ere thy dreams clash therein

Fore in such a place, amidst the blinded vermin,

friends be replaced by the slithering tongue,

within the wretched serpent’s cage of sin

II. A Signature upon Shedding Skin

Beware the pomegranate kind—

sacrificing winter, for a fleeting summer’s moonlight dance

Bathe long in thy sweated skin—

before ye blood hath spilt upon demon’s pact

Return ye shan’t; regret falls moot

for what has waxed, will surely wane—

Returning all thy suffering—from fathoms deep

to an ever weeping flame charred sky

When debt comes due,

redress accrues the interest kept

III. Forcing the Hand of God

While thy prayers be pronounced,

And thy annunciation understood—

  

The heavens must flood forth its tears,

flowing forward, despite—because

of God’s ever-existing paternal love

Yet—because thy scrolls be scribed

by bloodied pen:

Thy penitence must be denied,

Thy soul, to Hell, must be sent,

And such is the price one pays

for abandoning:

Thy belief in ye self,

Trust in God’s will

Thy Faith—Thy wisdom—

That God shalt keep ye safe

And such is the fate,

of men who:

                           Fraternize with unholy beasts—

                           Break bread at demonic feasts—

And there is no saving

A man consumed by deicide

An Octet of Jinn

An Octet of Jinn,

Breathes as both

Beast & man—

Capable of enacting

The roles for/of either

Good and/or Bad

As one would expect—

A balance could

To each the charm,

The myth, the might,

Cloaked in veils of lotus flaked

That together they can form

A divinity of petals,

Residing inside the skulls of man

Leaving us,

 a reminder of

The micro & macrocosms

Of God,      alive in      each of us.

Transformation of a Girl I knew

At first you’ll dye that blonde away,

Days then weeks we’ll watch it gray,

And now the once bright star we knew,

Transformed as the darkest of hearts within her grew,

Plaster skin,

Shanked smiles and cheshire grins,

The simplest and the deepest,

Overlooked for the most invasive thing you find,

The paradox of course,

Being spooned your wisdom off a convoluted plate,

Without out warning,

From the shadows,

You lurk and crawl,

From the darkness,

You’re likeness sprawls,

Pouncing towards, lashing at,

Any craving within your path,

Out of breath,

It cannot speak,

But the begging is all too clear,

Yet you choose not to hear,

At this point autopilot ensues,

Wickedly easy,

The transformation was,

By the lack of what’s inside now,

Compared to that little girl I knew well,

Without fear hate can take the weak most anywhere.