deepundergroundpoetry.com
OF DEATH AND THE SATURNINE ETERNITY OF I
I
Descending upon catharsis
Torn from substance, on the other side
Of my soul
Bewildered eyes, before me aligned
Lithesome figures barely there
A mirror of my guise, cracked and bare
Cupped in my hand is a solitary flower
So weightless, as if already ash
Waiting to be dispersed
The world I now behold, scorched by a frozen sun
Where my sorrow was once substance, an opiate
Births me once again from spiritual coma
I become myself, drink my cognizance
Devour the mnemonic
The black dog bays in the distance
At a moon that no longer shines upon the void
My heart slows with each second
I follow it, blinded by panic
I struggle to my feet, numb of sensation
And woe becomes my rigid stride
As the cold bites my face, freezes my tears
Sigh of a dying man to never be heard
Onward into the next horizon
A memoir for none to spill upon the page
There is no beginning or end, but forward momentum
Time slows to a halt, an infinitely extended rot
Always, there is another day after the final
And endless voices pass me by
Past my prison, awash in rust of many years
This is me, pariah, epitaph of time
Of dust and moss, ever beholding my anguish
This is survival in the arms of death
Like the iota cohesive, plethora divisive
Remainder, I stall inhibition
For the torture now ascends my exit
Emaciated, the damaged root of a fallen tree
Chaff to blow away, if a breeze ever blessed me
Hollow, yet cursed to always endure the storm
I have sinned and cannot be redeemed
Bred of my awareness, as if my own offspring
My effort to sustain the elements, in vain
As I scourge the field, claw at the mire
To unearth nought but the empty and monochrome
Ubiquitous, this place, there is nothing
Nothing but that immobile and daunting horizon
Like the bridge, once crossed, that light
And hope
Cannot escape
Existence is a violent panacea, no answers, no questions
Diacatholicon removed from the very venom of Christ blood
The one who I have been cursed to outlive
I have fought to will myself to rest
For that beloved embrace of the end
I erred by reaching for a sight that was
But a hallucination
After effect of this hunger I've nurtured
I
Pale silhouette of a serpent, ingluvious
That would bite down and masticate his own tail
And the sky would never ebb or flow, one shade
Not one single penumbra to bless my visage
An epicaricacy sustained, perdition
I can sense no inertia
Not a lone tear to fall upon me
For no one remembers, even if one did
One would forget, or never have cared at all
My toil is not their own
I
Absent of life
The great anathema that binds us all
To continuation
Death, unlike myself
Does not exist
Wretched, sick with ambivalence
Should I not cherish my current state?
However horrid?
Published 20th Oct 2017
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 3
reading list entries 1
comments 2
reads 690
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
22nd Oct 2017 1:41am
I really like this line,
' This is survival in the arms of death '
And I think it ties really well into the meaning of the poem,
It's a really epic depiction of it...
' This is survival in the arms of death '
And I think it ties really well into the meaning of the poem,
It's a really epic depiction of it...
26th Nov 2020 10:31pm
This is a seriously intense journey into the other side of living... written with heart and intelligence that brings the reader along for a glimpse into this eternal and unavoidable endeavor... nice work 🔥
