The Crimson Bath

Post prism

Depression

Angular dissension

Grandiose

A delicacy, a toast

For those lacking light the most

And so I drift away, to a place I once knew so very well,

A universe unlike this one, a place where homes are carved in stone,

Where troublesome letches rove the dark extensions

Hours in comatose

Stumbling cross the craggy fray

Middling moments

Of great reverberation

Songs of echoic chants repeat their play

Over and over, again and again

I can’t get their words out from my head

Fur placed by river’s shore

In the water I reflect upon atrocities

So soon forgotten despite their retention of warmth

Like spores popping conscientiously

I see my face in its entirety

A slow step back brings my frame to focus

And the memories flood my thought canal

         Painting cornerstones a myriad of shades

The vivid and the off hue

For an eon it seemed to stand

A frozen man, without

Yet amassing swarms of enemies

Bathed in crimson,

                  Not just the flesh, but also, the question marks as well

          How did this cleansing come to be?

                  Was it birthed in pleasure or necessity?

         What languages speak in tongues like these?

And even the voices shake their heads…

                           Why has recollection shunned me so?

To steal the process from the skipping stone,

To dwell so far yet ogle my position from deserted throne

                  Leaving me with only prayers to own

What is the origin of such constructs?  

                   Is it in me, has this been the case all along

Or is it within parts yet to be seen?

Who is the architect of such a mask?

         Were these hands meant for callousing?

If so, then why has the subconscious purged remembrance so thin?

                           Into the crystal wash I walk

The scarlet I desire weakened; pray at all cost it’s forever lost

        

Upon submersion

How many sins shall wash away?

Where will the currents take them?

Will they regret? Will they every truly go?

Will they feel isolation, as they drift along without home?

Or will their next host embrace their cruel glow?

         From phosphorus to dust

From anxiety to life

                  We wash the crimson clean

                           Arising, from beneath the fluid screen

Hair compressed to nape

Levity is quiet still; levity may have died this day

Yet/ Reborn I feel/ lighter than I have ever been

Sigh

Sigh.

When there’s danger about

And nothing flashes friendly

Don’t sing your depressing melody

Where you’re both artist and audience

Instead lift your feet from their concrete shells

And return to the place where judgment is nil

Home is a harbor

For lost vessels

Love emanates from the safety

Brooding is removed from your body

The poetry of family

Is that words are not necessary

Is where visions come undone

You are who you are

And that’s the only necessity

Dreams stay living

When empowered by encouraging eyes

And through these eyes, your vision shall become

Sigh.

When all seems in doubt

Where not a soul appears the same

Take a deep breath.

 Sigh.

You’re but footprints away

From the place you once called home

Return to comfort

Do not dote

Go home again.

Where acceptance begins

With hello.

Sigh.

Independence

Auditory shields withdrawn

         Unveiling the perplexities of paradoxical revelry

As freedom chimes the chalice brim

With golden spoons and self-satisfactory grins

         On this day some time prior,

Atop this very soil independence alit desire

 Through violent means and refusing coils

A snake once tread was draped in silence

Entertaining the truce beset before

Pandering swiftly because and for

Sentient creations bright and biased

Mindful only to the severed silence

Accompanying the loops beneath

Underpinnings of dream and feast

Many still free to suffer

While the morally indigent smugly sit,

In fabrics befitting of fancied queens and kings

         Smirking their usurping smiles

Daring to outline those sins that assailed against

As they detail painful occurrence

Resulting from illicit trysts and fits

        

         And yet they suffer still,

As undigested beast and swine

Foully stutter beneath their belly lines

         Dousing gluttony’s grit

With each reddened chalice

         Tipped throughout periods of shortened time

Contrast this suffering

 To the scraps denied

         Those tables where true patriots dine

Happy to live and breath in a land that’s free

         Content to rest heads at night

Knowing love has blessed each of them

         That anything is possible

Despite the outstretched necks and noses snubbed

          Piling their plates with oppressive “love”

 As those stuffed tummies

         Bobble like gelatinous cubes

Amused by parlays wagered upon

         The distance made by children of a common man

Night terrors pass

As lightning affixes a midnight sky

Erupting pulsars

Loaded high

Where snakes stain the hands of children

Both rich and poor

***

Evading Bedouin tags

 Once reserved

For clouted men

In silken rags

And those defined

By poverty

 Somaticizing

As the tides shuffle in a darkened moon

The earth hides its vegetation under

Blankets of sleep

         Sounds of starlight whispers

         Take a bow

         As curtains retract

         Illuminating annualized Passion plays

All ills rescind

All sins forgiven

For but invariable lengths of minutes spent

On a hill

Or in the stands

Above the skyline

Looking out

Alone

Or in the company of many

Where outlooks are for the moment

Unified

 Overlooking oceans and seas

From far off lands caressed by sandy sheets

To elaborate palatial escapes in the east

                           Palettes shift

                           In shade and hue

                           Assumptions bleed well into

                           The extravagance blinding the sight of stars

                           As the orchestral movements carve their niche

                           All eyes become enriched

                                    From Presidents to hoodwinked fool

On this night, independence and hope comes alive for you

Faking your own Death

Guitars to gentle strings

From screams to softening whisper

Faking your own death

With only the shadow left to betray

We can claim identity as our own

Cast your line

Into the chasms of glossy disavow

Lay your armor beside my sheath

Naked, bare we’ll wander till

We blend into the deepest sea

With evenings gaze upon eternal sleep

Awake we shall,

To endorphins, ambitiously haze-like, states of dream

A dampened cloth upon tempered steel

For wounds severe,

Its moist caress forever heals

Will you fake your own death and come with me?

Perfect Poet Award for Poets Rally Week 47

I'm proud to accept this award for Thursday Poets Poetry Rally Week 47.

Writing Poetry

Benefits the soul and mind

Sharing poetry

Invigorates you with bliss

When shared with kindred spirits

Thanks so much, Promising Poets Cafe and Jingle for the award.

I nominate Classic NYer for next weeks award

Demon

I am a demon,

In your eyes,

You see disgrace and shame

I am a demon

So your claim

The wildebeest needs to be tamed

I am a demon in your eyes

But through mine

My actions are justified

Killer           Protector

Hunter       Provider

Monster     Father

Plague       Brother

Demon       Son

         Victim

As are you

                           You are a demon in my eyes

                           But through yours

You’re actions are justified  

        

Dark Tranquility

Dark Tranquility

Instilled unto virgin eyes

Forward vision blurred

Slander masquerade

Disguises take many shapes

Hobbled by design

Little wish

Atop silver mounds

Shining bright

Bandoliers

Sneaking dreams breaking

Promises

In fluctuation

As stars dim appeal

Dark tranquility

Exported forward from one

Split decision tree

Creeping across spring

Awaiting discourse of love

Dominions of sway

Whisking aftermaths into

Shuddering tonality

Silencing

Scenario streams

Blank pages

Portuguese

Man of

War