Tuesday, February 1, 2011

All in One Breath

This is a poem I wrote a little while before Christmas, and semi forgot about. It is written all in one sentence, hence the tital and...well, I for me it is about humanity's relation to the universe. It could have a totally different meening to you though, so don't let that guid you.

 At the final day of the new end, as the screaming Goddess cuts her curving spine from her ancient back and drops it to the littered earth to form the great divides and gives you your separate kingdoms, which you fall upon more heavily than water to nourish power and the sightless crusade, your blind taste of survival as you plunge forward, listlessly praying for immaculate change and thanking those you prayed to when you change it yourself, and as years tumble through the opalescent desert and your bloodied feet fall one more time, the scorpion hides that his greatest wish is not to bite your shadow flesh, but to grow soft arms and assist your parched tongue to the waiting oasis, but he knows to well (for this has been done a thousand, thousand times) that you must find it yourself, and his dreams of kissing your calloused amethyst skin is a to far gone adlib in a play all for you hidden children that the goddess sold to the demons when she gouged out her beautiful eyes for your lights, and pulled and thrust hundreds of broken teeth to scatter the sky with untouchable gemstones that you ignore in your quest for everything, on one wailing in-exhale, to survive, to know, to escape the unknown dragon and fly free on his unseen crimson flanks, and you must tumble onward to the refuge of the carousel, and its sweeping song hiding in the human illusion of safety, while the horse beneath you continues his frozen scream as you break his back, vertebrae by vertebrae, and ignorant as ever, you continue to drive the pretty striped pole into his heart, and then your moving on, leaving his godlike form without even a thanks, back through the portal of the woman’s womb, where you must beat the goblin king and he hides his tears for you, whilst fanning  hate and thrusting you out, out, back to the desert of skulls ends and new twilights, just to trip and crash your clever head spectacularly into an innocent rock and bleed your life away, while the scorpion at your feet finally gets his wish and rises as a man to let his almost-man’s face brush your own, his sandy crew cut shining in the river of dawn light  you never lived to see, and somewhere a sacrificial Goddess finds the illogical time to shed a single tear for one more dead infant, like every good Goddess will, and scorpion whispers in your ear that he forgives you and all that you breath.        

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