I can't find anything more tragic
than a stop in the dawn- or failing eternity-
the last drunk clogging obscene in my veins
choking my skin numb and lifeless, vibrant with corruption
sheened with an inalienable filth
and wine sweat reeking of silver
Up the road run strange children
vicious with laughter weighting their safe, beautiful brains
ripe with damnation and untouchable cruelty
I can't take their eyes, anymore, wrapping up around the side of my throat and breaching my clavicles, splayed open and profanely soft, exposing my voice, gutted, to the old morning
I want to wrench out the size of my blindness!
and swallow the storm of our blood
Expel the old gods form our veins and drive the crying Dionysius from our wilderness, new born and revitalized with fever and wisdom
passion,
if it can clear my eyes,
if I can see free,
clear and beyond all suffering, past the bruised and bloated women crowded at the thresholds, drunk with smoke and viral.
loose myself of their repulsing glare
I'll be saved.
Author notes
as to the last line...........do me a favor and don't read any christian or otherwise religious connotation into it. it's not there.
the closest reference i could give you for comparison is Neitzschean tragedy, rejoining to the self.
A contest entry
- your best work composed over the last twelve months by Lute.
600 points, ended January 9, 2008, 68 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Good write here
So often we strive to find that place where life is hanging in limbo not insane and not sane yet a place we can call our own
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content 7.2
vocabulary 15.25
accuracy 7.7
creativity 7.3
theme 7.4
originality 7.3
totals-52.15
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