deepundergroundpoetry.com

Image for the poem AT THE BLIGHTED THRESHOLD OF SUPREMACY

AT THE BLIGHTED THRESHOLD OF SUPREMACY

 
I could be lost in those days
And never seek the exit door
Whenever I should lift my gaze
I fancy skies bereft of sun
 
 
Oh, the miserable sun
My immortal adversary
Ruinating my condition
Like the fall of Icarus
But hubris was not mine
In the shade paradigm
My own begins to fade
In blindness, the penumbra widens
Aback to quintessence
 
 
Of my faith, winnowed
By preternatural choice
Voids my only care
In the fragmented glass womb of thought
Laodicean I, in the company of insomniacs
Always the spectator
Their stories quick to stagnate tongues
And I turn away
 
 
Fuchsia ceiling
I see nought but the moon
As I lay...
I would absolve myself in these quiet hours
Deliver from me a prodding pain
Like a finger on my brain
 
 
With no voice but my own mind
My life is not for subservience
Like those that would lay with me
 
 
Those that would draw further away
As my lens began to transparentize
I'd corrupt them in the dark
As they would reach for the light
With sore cunts
And be denied
By those that they lusted for
 
 
It is unfair of me
But morality was not my fruit
 
 
Departure
The door is closing
The time is now
 
 
It is during these Autumn days
The company of rain upon the windshield
Better suits me
As I stare, catatonic, outward
 
 
I pass by antiques of my youth
Through the clouded second lens
Their subtlety against the modern world
A contrast I seek to recreate
A pulsing vein, eyelids agape
This is the canvas that I would paint
 
 
Despite all the dark that resides
There is a faint echoing of words unspoken
Caged, like a wild fowl
 
 
Some part of me seeks to be as others
Envious of their vibrance
As I can only reflect, never refract
The light that attempts to enter
 
 
The hand of the solipsist
Is only real
As long as the hand can feel
 
 
Again, I am here to absolve myself
Hours so quiet after the struggle
My portrait complete
Delivered from the prodding
And I exhale...
It billows to the ceiling
To join its father cloud
Written by UbiquitousVoid (. . . . . . . . .)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 1 reading list entries 0
comments 1 reads 641
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
COMPETITIONS
Today 9:43am by mel44
SPEAKEASY
Today 9:24am by Too_hot69
COMPETITIONS
Today 4:56am by NANCY_RDZ_STORIES
SPEAKEASY
Today 4:15am by Grace
SPEAKEASY
Today 3:33am by DCLXVI_1989
COMPETITIONS
Today 00:41am by Louismatteo349