THE HUMAN ANVIL

Tag: human

  • Life In Ripples

    You poise by the preface,
    Starlike; extravagant,
    Tilting waist,
    Measuring love of men,
    Who dipped in your fragrance,
    Sway like honey heavy flowers,
    Drunk against sunlight,
    Leaping emerald across boroughs,
    Spilled with spring.

    Lilac dreams, enchanting,
    You wave away tapered, transient,
    All lifelike features, that taste of earthly leisure,
    Absent.
    For you dream of Angels,
    Angular symposium of embroidered life,
    And divine imitation,
    Though you know it not.
    For far too pleasure shatter beneath your feet,
    And the sound, what feels like cloudburst to us,
    To you is but a gust of wind that lifts,
    The violet hem of your dress.

    Yet one day,
    Your face shall melt,
    Into a weed filled pool,
    With a weeping fountain in the middle,
    For all too pass by and forget,
    Even when the blue rain, would clasp,
    And hold you, immortal,
    No nymph nor Naiad,
    Or man, mermaid,
    Shall know your depths, ever.

    But every other night,
    When solace would have left you speechless,
    And the silence; a silver mirror,
    A shadow shall shape in your womb,
    Desirous, delicate,
    Cascading down, sweet and sour,
    Like a citrus kiss of longing,
    And you will be alone, no longer,
    But one with the moon,
    Dancing on his tunes,
    In trance like ripples.

  • Magnum

    Deep into this journey,
    Long after the deep susurration of life,
    And the sense of longing,
    Of natal desire,
    Is dried and shorn as bark and wool,
    And bright as the nectar corals,
    Burnt with tired timber,
    Does the dull truth of things,
    Worm in.

    Baleful eyes, kissed with Kohl yet
    Empty inside,
    Burrowed by the undoing of this ethereal Magnum,
    This caustic world,
    With it’s walls of freedom, aching,
    Breaking against blindness,
    Seek,
    Weep,
    And speak, no more than what the silence taught them in form of tears.

    A panacea,
    To all immutable happenstance. Measured, immeasurable,
    Paraded or parodied,
    Through one life iterated, in many lives over,
    Rags and rags, covering a bareness,
    That reflects in no light,
    But unfurls in each darkness,
    Like moon upon lotus lips,
    Of philosophers and Pharaohs,
    Of travellers and treasurers,
    Of hunters and hoarders.

    Unceasingly mitigated,
    Yet never really moving,
    Until stillness itself stills,
    And all forms, wither into one,
    And all one’s merge into none.

    Panacea,
    The answer to no question.

  • The Colonnades

    The wind tastes of stale season,
    Filaments of it dry from disuse,
    Twist and turn, twist and turn,
    Into morsels for those,
    Who have nothing less,
    And wish nothing more.

    Wait inside,
    Let the walls fall down,
    For wide in the open,
    There is no one around,
    Only a yawning road leading away,
    Into a darkness done in artistic way,
    From whence spills laughter; lost voices sorrow,
    Wishful pretenders of a belated tommorow.

    Wayside rises Colonnades; meaningless, grotesque,
    Attempts at perfection,
    Pillars of pain,
    Heaved by hands, long buried under. Wonder-less, vacant eyes,
    Still life, still life,
    Breathing in the earth,
    The moisture, the metal
    The irony, the mirth.

    Their raised fists, now barnacled;
    In iron forged upon
    A green glade, now barren,
    Weaned and watered, once;
    By the hands long buried,
    Under wayside colonnades.

    So the ghosts have gathered,
    For a better afterlife,
    Pale mouths, witnesses, sing
    And march in naked apparel,
    For a debt long unpaid,
    By those visionary,
    By the blind men,
    Who dreamt of the colonnades.