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THE CARRION CATACOMBS
Contributed by
incognito_bombastus
on
Monday, 12th January 2009 @ 06:12:00 PM in AEST
Topic:
ambiguous
|
THE CARRION CATACOMBS
*
That cursed mirror that cuckolds my wishes and dreams with
Reason & rationale; leaving me forever
In the face of life impotent.
A masque, a self scared & horned shadow,
Knowing itself too kindly & spirit too mildly.
To destruction, desolation & despair I effortlessly flow.
*
A darkened grotto of nothings,
That is tomorrow. The screaming silence in the
Nightmares of a frenetic candle-lit day.
Stifled & hallowed by its own illumination,
Not even yesterday is lit by the now.
Only severed & remembered footsteps.
To turn round is to know you have
Scaped the days of greatest evil or that they
Are yet to come.
The flame is fueled forever in this understanding,
Forcible in reproduction a voracious appetite appeased
Only by steps in the modern dark.
Unlit beyond a grasped hand,
I stand upon the precipice.
Circumferential infinity,
A burning, stinging, singing abyss.
What have you been doing?
Somewhere a humming voice asks,
I have been walking here and there,
Roaming about the earth. Ive been mumbling with the
Shadows, Ive been stumbling in the dark.
And wherefore are you going so ill-equipt?
A dim crippled traveller that in this cave slipped.
I have no course but this way.
I have followed & remain ever swallowed in
My own dark & only day.
Wherefore are you going so ill-equipt?
& whyfore walk with subterranean souls,
Close to Persephones forgotten holes,
Treading so loathful, cleft & clipped.
I know not where I am & little care of how or why Im
Here. As for my wunderlust, compulsion drives me on
As the wind the mastd ship, or the sun the thyrsting
As sands desert caravans, or the hungry in search of
Food, the greedy in search of silver, the hunted in search
Of peace, the worked in search of rest, the pauper and his
Princely appetites or the lonely & afraid in search of
Validation & love.
But wherefore are you going, so ill-equipt?
In echoes & rebounding calls,
This voice in siege surrounds the walls &
Into silence trips..
*
The zodiac has been again & showed
Its smug round head.
The gaunt moon has been again & sung
Its hexed doubled hymn.
Come before & dance along
With the carnivore regions puppets,
Then kneel & kiss the feet of death
That strode out of the forests.
*
Who looks upon tomorrow as brite, hopeful,
Who knows only today
Or yesterday?
None, we only dream and in the waking lite,
Intrusion, dreams are forgot,
Smothered by reality & necessity.
They snow-like, pure,
Melt to unconnected puddles.
*
Purgings of helplessness,
Violence & stillness.
I heard a bird crying in the
Middle of the nite,
Everynight.
From my bed in its nest, I could hear the
Tears it shed. Waiting to flee its tear of
Black terror in the dawn
With wide wings spread.
(I wept for my brother & slept to speed the day.)
*
Hope is not the worship of necessity,
Food & shelter,
Thats slavery.
Unknown phantasy, hope
That maybe tomorrow,
Your lost treasures,
Still leasures,
Swelled pleasures,
Those rainbow & symphonic measures.
Reality may be dreams, oblivion, creation.
Out of despair, hope.
Listen!
Everything, the universe
Chants & screams. Echoing your dreams.
*
In Trento stands Dantes monument,
Hailing towards the sky.
Ascended, resplendent
A pillar of hells deeds & men, raised & supported high.
All heaven & hell on our shoulders bearing,
The colossus above the mountains returning,
Eyes upon bendless horizons, glaring.
*
Now those death caves roar,
That all thru eternity store
The sleeping souls that for ever more,
Are sentinel from their lost days of yore.
They whisper fraternal, eternally conspire,
Emblazon my pen with audacious fire.
Dare us the world too challenge change & inquire
Deep darkest nite now proveth a liar,
As dreams & hope, fortune sire.
*
Thru my silence there grew a tree,
Apparitions in cacophony,
Ripe golden apple visions came swelling, ferocious,
Foul & free. A liege, a lion,
Such mighty scions at my feet now play.
Under the sun phantasma-gloria comes,
When the scorpions arching black & subtle
At my feet scuttle, my tender soul must stay &
Melancholic pray.
*
Its like a song for everlasting singers.
Endless choruses & solo verses.
Every song has its beginning
Every song an end, as every dream/wish
Has fantasy or nitemare as its friend.
All this is possessed in your still & timeless
Times, always intertwined.
Forever sprouting leaves & stems
Grapevines in your mind.
Its in time, golden heavy servitude
That adorns our every breath.
Each one past we never mourn,
A unique instant moments death.
It is time. No dwarves on giants shoulders,
Only men. The real ones, not myths, the tall
& the short, marked on the genius file,
Standing over & struggling thru our own
Ancestral pile.
Its time unforgiving, time unending
All conjuring, swift-handed time.
Its our mothers & fathers at our own precious age.
Its the over-shadowing of our millennium, one finished
Another outlined historical page.
Its the life & death of empires,
The crumbling & the new. Its the faceless
Hordes of others led by the khanish few.
Its isolation & loneliness.
It is now as it was before, & always evermore.
Beyond us, out of our hands, gravitational, suicidal &
Planetary plans.
It is a charge & blinding stream of
Ether-ral, dimensional light. Strait, bending,
Quavering & wavering depths of fury & boundless energy.
Its monsters on stages of pale vertical horizons,
Reproductions of chaos, of pantomime, tragedy,
Comedy, heroism, murder, epic decay & biblical double-cross.
A vulgar fablio of covetous actions on grander
Scales than dreamt of by our player ancestors.
It is a melange of movement,
Magnetic futility.
Chemical & electric convulsion,
Deathwish genetic compulsion,
Singular mental revulsion.
When seen in entirety
It is, we are an entity,
Unerring timelessness,
Unbeatable, unbreakable, unbendable.
It is our world history.
It is a world hanging with baubles.
It is an endless time of lite.
It is a dim speck millions of miles,
Millions of years away.
It is us,
It is ours,
& it is beautiful.
Its all the same in the end.
*
Copyright ©
incognito_bombastus
... [
2009-01-12 18:12:00]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: THE CARRION CATACOMBS
(User Rating: 1 )
by spanky on
Monday, 12th January 2009 @ 06:31:18 PM AEST
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Info | Send
a Message)
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| Excellent verbal acrobatics, and very nicely written, but honestly, I don't have a clue as to what this poem is about. I cannot make sense out of even one sentence in the entire piece. A poem is supposed to evoke an emotion from the reader, but I don't know which emotion to reach for in this poem, That being the case, your poem does not invite or encourage any response whatsoever from the reader. It isn't funny, it isn't sad, it isn't poignant...it isn't anything. It doesn't mean anything and it doesn't go anywhere. I have to wonder...do you even know what this poem is about? |
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Re: THE CARRION CATACOMBS
(User Rating: 1 )
by Voyager on
Friday, 29th November 2013 @ 01:23:38 PM AEST
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a Message)
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| There are verses in this poem that point to something deeper especially references to sub-terranean souls, dreams killed due to harsh necessity etc. Some great things highlighted. However the flow is haphazard and kind of lacks coherence or theme. But this will surely pass for good surreal poetry and it has a doom-like, haunting feel to it. Good overall. |
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