deepundergroundpoetry.com
To Not Even Be A Ghost
The sun sets
The rain falls
The forest decays,
The sacred words go unspoken.
The fields lay fallow
along the slopes
of an unremembered memory.
First, there is void
then the word
then the whole:
Red Corn to the east-The way of the visionary
Yellow Corn to the west-The way of the healer
White Corn to the south-The way of the teacher
Black Corn to the north-The way of the sacred warrior, then
the world turns upside down across the sky
on the scales of The Crocodile's back
on the river to Xibalba.
The great helicopters come down with the first rains
upon the April fields
upon the footprints
of the old Oldabuelos.
Finally, there is void.
There is Earthmother,
She doesn't speak when no one is left
to listen.
In the poverty and broken glass of market economics
progress marches forward to forget.
---
With time anything can be silenced-
by principles
by repression
by revolution
by indifference.
The words no longer spoken are destined
to have never existed.
The bullet itself is nothing more than hot air
displaced, once released from the rifle
it does its damage without sound.
For the disappeared may not speak
once there stories never were.
The rain falls
The forest decays,
The sacred words go unspoken.
The fields lay fallow
along the slopes
of an unremembered memory.
First, there is void
then the word
then the whole:
Red Corn to the east-The way of the visionary
Yellow Corn to the west-The way of the healer
White Corn to the south-The way of the teacher
Black Corn to the north-The way of the sacred warrior, then
the world turns upside down across the sky
on the scales of The Crocodile's back
on the river to Xibalba.
The great helicopters come down with the first rains
upon the April fields
upon the footprints
of the old Oldabuelos.
Finally, there is void.
There is Earthmother,
She doesn't speak when no one is left
to listen.
In the poverty and broken glass of market economics
progress marches forward to forget.
---
With time anything can be silenced-
by principles
by repression
by revolution
by indifference.
The words no longer spoken are destined
to have never existed.
The bullet itself is nothing more than hot air
displaced, once released from the rifle
it does its damage without sound.
For the disappeared may not speak
once there stories never were.
Published 15th Feb 2016
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This is epic, Matthew. You've recorded time in such brevity, from in the beginning was the Word through the racial colors of humanity from the Hopi prophecies. I especially enjoyed the Mayan reference to "the place of fear" through modern day war, i.e. - helicopters and April fields (perhaps Bullecourt?). The reference to current economics and mass pollution destroying the earth places us in today's shoes with an overcast of tomorrow's doom if mankind doesn't alter his course. I have always believe the earth will regenerate herself once man is gone. Anything can be silenced through both actions and time, and many ascended masters have been silenced throughout time for the truth of their words. While many feel that those who have gone are silenced, the power of their message seems to multiply, albeit sometimes altered for purposes of control, and/or it's misunderstood by the masses who refuse to educate themselves.
The saddest are those who disappeared without ever getting to plant seeds of reform. That happens to be the best way to end the shadow of this poem. While I would've loved to have had a silver lining to read, I am content with knowing that somewhere it exists outside the parameters of these words.
Well done. You've truly captured the power of brevity here.
The saddest are those who disappeared without ever getting to plant seeds of reform. That happens to be the best way to end the shadow of this poem. While I would've loved to have had a silver lining to read, I am content with knowing that somewhere it exists outside the parameters of these words.
Well done. You've truly captured the power of brevity here.
16th Feb 2016 3:10pm
15th Feb 2016 9:44pm
Histories encapsulated
And the truth of histories encapsulated in the last sentence
Bravo
And the truth of histories encapsulated in the last sentence
Bravo
16th Feb 2016 3:11pm
16th Feb 2016 3:14am
we can only submit to the silence, there is nothing else.
spectacular work...
spectacular work...
16th Feb 2016 3:11pm
19th Feb 2016 10:12am
Aw...the second part took me in such speechless fastness of a piercing shattering of storm, leaving me in silenced shards of clotting bleeds! ..n the first part perfectly set an evenmore but a stark silence of a kind there!
Matt..happy lucky to read u agn!
x
Matt..happy lucky to read u agn!
x
19th Feb 2016 3:29pm
