deepundergroundpoetry.com
Scorpio Rising
The red desert floor reaches endlessly
like an ocean of sand.
The heat is getting to me -
I start to trip.
I see Scorpio rising,
watching me with his twinkling, starlit eyes.
He impales me with his stinger
injecting me with his visions.
I see
the Great Dragon of old
breathing fire arcoss the night sky,
burning out weaker stars, leaving them in his wake.
He is here to teach a lesson to all mankind.
Scorpio, brother to the Great Dragon,
has brought me to this place
on a quest.
Before me stands a door, ajar.
Behind it, a thousand virgins dressed in black,
white porcelain skin, crimson painted lips
they speak in unison
in a language I don't understand.
Standing on a hilltop, Scorpio
points towards the horizon
where I see giant scorpions,
their stingers like daggers.
He says 'they are here to cure the folly of man
who eats up the vomit spewed by corporate America and the media.
Their venom is
the cure to all those who are blinded.'
Then I see a great eye of fire
unblinking, drinking in all that has unfolded from now
back to the beginning of time.
Scorpio whispers in my ear
'you're on a long and treacherous journey.
Watch your footing in this desert land.
I'll be looking in on you from time to time.'
My eyes ease open
as if awoken from a dream.
Left with a deep impression of Scorpio rising,
I shake loose the cotton from my head
and open my mind.
like an ocean of sand.
The heat is getting to me -
I start to trip.
I see Scorpio rising,
watching me with his twinkling, starlit eyes.
He impales me with his stinger
injecting me with his visions.
I see
the Great Dragon of old
breathing fire arcoss the night sky,
burning out weaker stars, leaving them in his wake.
He is here to teach a lesson to all mankind.
Scorpio, brother to the Great Dragon,
has brought me to this place
on a quest.
Before me stands a door, ajar.
Behind it, a thousand virgins dressed in black,
white porcelain skin, crimson painted lips
they speak in unison
in a language I don't understand.
Standing on a hilltop, Scorpio
points towards the horizon
where I see giant scorpions,
their stingers like daggers.
He says 'they are here to cure the folly of man
who eats up the vomit spewed by corporate America and the media.
Their venom is
the cure to all those who are blinded.'
Then I see a great eye of fire
unblinking, drinking in all that has unfolded from now
back to the beginning of time.
Scorpio whispers in my ear
'you're on a long and treacherous journey.
Watch your footing in this desert land.
I'll be looking in on you from time to time.'
My eyes ease open
as if awoken from a dream.
Left with a deep impression of Scorpio rising,
I shake loose the cotton from my head
and open my mind.
Published 8th Oct 2011
| Edited 14th Oct 2011
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 4
reading list entries 0
comments 6
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The author encourages honest critique.
8th Oct 2011 10:57pm
Crim you have been hot like fire since your return. I am catching up on your pieces now.
Love this one
Love this one
ty Kym for such a beautiful comment..making me smile..you really touched my heart with your comment..peace to you Crim :)
Anonymous
14th Oct 2011 9:18pm
Hey Crimsin.
I like you best when you're shooting it straight like this. I could see you in the desert. Your 'trip' was believable. The unfrilly form definitely enabled the poem to get on with the story/message which is one I like.
I'm not usually a stickler for grammar in poetry, in fact I usually avoid it, but this seems to cry out for some delineation/boundaries. Also I think it could stand a little trimming. Henri Cole (a decorated American poet) says the poet should strip every poem to its bare bones and use only what is absolutely neccessary to convey the message. He also says the poet should 'drop straight into the poem from a height, going at speed, only opening the parachute at the last minute.' You did that.
I've done a quick little copy and paste edit for your entertainment/consideration, trimming off what I considered 'fat' and tidying it up with conventional punctuation. See what you think.
The red desert floor reaches endlessly
like an ocean of sand.
The heat is getting to me -
I start to trip.
I see Scorpio rising,
watching me with his twinkling, starlit eyes.
He impales me with his stinger
injecting me with his visions.
I see
the Great Dragon of old
breathing fire arcoss the night sky,
burning out weaker stars, leaving them in his wake.
He is here to teach a lesson to all mankind.
Scorpio, brother to the Great Dragon,
has brought me to this place
on a quest.
Before me stands a door, ajar.
Behind it, a thousand virgins dressed in black,
white porcelain skin, crimson painted lips
they speak in unison
in a language I don't understand.
Standing on a hilltop, Scorpio
points towards the horizon
where I see giant scorpions,
their stingers like daggers.
He says 'they are here to cure the folly of man
who eats up the vomit spewed by corporate America and the media.
Their venom is
the cure to all those who are blinded.'
Then I see a great eye of fire
unblinking, drinking in all that has unfolded from now
back to the beginning of time.
Scorpio whispers in my ear
'you're on a long and treacherous journey.
Watch your footing in this desert land.
I'll be looking in on you from time to time.'
My eyes ease open
as if awoken from a dream.
Left with a deep impression of Scorpio rising,
I shake loose the cotton from my head
and open my mind.
I like you best when you're shooting it straight like this. I could see you in the desert. Your 'trip' was believable. The unfrilly form definitely enabled the poem to get on with the story/message which is one I like.
I'm not usually a stickler for grammar in poetry, in fact I usually avoid it, but this seems to cry out for some delineation/boundaries. Also I think it could stand a little trimming. Henri Cole (a decorated American poet) says the poet should strip every poem to its bare bones and use only what is absolutely neccessary to convey the message. He also says the poet should 'drop straight into the poem from a height, going at speed, only opening the parachute at the last minute.' You did that.
I've done a quick little copy and paste edit for your entertainment/consideration, trimming off what I considered 'fat' and tidying it up with conventional punctuation. See what you think.
The red desert floor reaches endlessly
like an ocean of sand.
The heat is getting to me -
I start to trip.
I see Scorpio rising,
watching me with his twinkling, starlit eyes.
He impales me with his stinger
injecting me with his visions.
I see
the Great Dragon of old
breathing fire arcoss the night sky,
burning out weaker stars, leaving them in his wake.
He is here to teach a lesson to all mankind.
Scorpio, brother to the Great Dragon,
has brought me to this place
on a quest.
Before me stands a door, ajar.
Behind it, a thousand virgins dressed in black,
white porcelain skin, crimson painted lips
they speak in unison
in a language I don't understand.
Standing on a hilltop, Scorpio
points towards the horizon
where I see giant scorpions,
their stingers like daggers.
He says 'they are here to cure the folly of man
who eats up the vomit spewed by corporate America and the media.
Their venom is
the cure to all those who are blinded.'
Then I see a great eye of fire
unblinking, drinking in all that has unfolded from now
back to the beginning of time.
Scorpio whispers in my ear
'you're on a long and treacherous journey.
Watch your footing in this desert land.
I'll be looking in on you from time to time.'
My eyes ease open
as if awoken from a dream.
Left with a deep impression of Scorpio rising,
I shake loose the cotton from my head
and open my mind.
I edited as you advised ty for the great comment and help on my poem I appreciate it..peace Crim :)
Anonymous
- Edited 7th May 2019 00:46am
6th Feb 2019 1:37am
<< post removed >>
6th Feb 2019 12:07pm
