Vicious Cycles
These unintended passengers waiting on the sidelines,
in the stage wings, to drink all these scripted poisons
with their bated breath, comes such hopeful shudder…
such anticipation, unwarranted, so imminently captive
of these toils of my jaded and most grievous intuition.
What wouldst thou have of such dark illuminations…?
My devil-sharpened tongue; shaping worlds where no
fevered mortal coward dare even risk his sacred breath.
Judge nor gather harshly and heed these grains of salt;
beware, for all these mirrors can take you anywhere,
save your own home…this grandeur is fleeting though
my truths will remain yet, carved out in timeless stone.
Fetid is the air of these catacombs we now wander in
together, forever…the way you all wanted it to remain.
The parable of my existence…the binge of insight calls
the purge of alphabetical statuary, intangible portraits.
The arcane museum of the mind’s eye, the dreary stage
without which I’d have no locale or destination, would
cease to hear or speak. You all cast me down here; in
turn I’ve dragged you to these lowly dungeons as well.
These unintended passengers waiting on the sidelines,
in the stage wings, to drink all these scripted poisons
with their bated breath, comes such hopeful shudder…
such anticipation, unwarranted, so imminently captive
of these toils of my jaded and most grievous intuition.
What wouldst thou have of such dark illuminations…?
My devil-sharpened tongue; shaping worlds where no
fevered mortal coward dare even risk his sacred breath.
Judge nor gather harshly and heed these grains of salt;
beware, for all these mirrors can take you anywhere,
save your own home…this grandeur is fleeting though
my truths will remain yet, carved out in timeless stone.
Fetid is the air of these catacombs we now wander in
together, forever…the way you all wanted it to remain.
The parable of my existence…the binge of insight calls
the purge of alphabetical statuary, intangible portraits.
The arcane museum of the mind’s eye, the dreary stage
without which I’d have no locale or destination, would
cease to hear or speak. You all cast me down here; in
turn I’ve dragged you to these lowly dungeons as well.
---phoenix
5/28-31/2008
any copying/reproduction/distribution of this writing, in whole or in part, without express permission from the author is strictly prohibited. ©SaerenPhoenix 2008
(Please contact the author with questions.)
No comments:
Post a Comment