deepundergroundpoetry.com
Scorpius
What is to give light must endure burning.
~ Victor Frankl
Poems like this are thought dangerous
born of blood, bone
and scorched-feathers
of smoldering ash
stirring the heat
striking the sweat
before spreading wings
to ascend
Dig up an underworld
of hidden truth
beneath the rock of its heart
because poems
like this are thought dangerous
their eyes turning
to the sun
surrendering
earthen words
weathered by war
following the flight-path
of birds
There is a poisonous telson
attached to our body
howling
for release
because poems
like this are thought dangerous
born of a deep-water womb
they did not create
but chose nonetheless
Cinder and ocean-drops
glisten together
upon a hard-shelled back
a shatter of a soul thought dangerous
crawling into the dessert
meeting the cactus
whose sting burns
as its own
but petaled bloom
submits to the sun
We are the in-between
neither cardinal nor mutable
but fixed passion and desire
an arachnid life
destined for the pyre
You may think
a Poem like this is dangerous
when the only true taste
of freedom
is to fearlessly walk
through a probing portal
of burning flesh to reincarnate
a phoenix
but any bloom
will turn back its face
only once
to confirm
No. . .it's truth
before being burned
at its own stake by the sun
reincarnating from a seed
it birthed
~ Victor Frankl
Poems like this are thought dangerous
born of blood, bone
and scorched-feathers
of smoldering ash
stirring the heat
striking the sweat
before spreading wings
to ascend
Dig up an underworld
of hidden truth
beneath the rock of its heart
because poems
like this are thought dangerous
their eyes turning
to the sun
surrendering
earthen words
weathered by war
following the flight-path
of birds
There is a poisonous telson
attached to our body
howling
for release
because poems
like this are thought dangerous
born of a deep-water womb
they did not create
but chose nonetheless
Cinder and ocean-drops
glisten together
upon a hard-shelled back
a shatter of a soul thought dangerous
crawling into the dessert
meeting the cactus
whose sting burns
as its own
but petaled bloom
submits to the sun
We are the in-between
neither cardinal nor mutable
but fixed passion and desire
an arachnid life
destined for the pyre
You may think
a Poem like this is dangerous
when the only true taste
of freedom
is to fearlessly walk
through a probing portal
of burning flesh to reincarnate
a phoenix
but any bloom
will turn back its face
only once
to confirm
No. . .it's truth
before being burned
at its own stake by the sun
reincarnating from a seed
it birthed
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