Saturday, August 6, 2011

Tango de la Materia, No. 25, Epitome No. 2

A golden angel streaming profuse crimson

Huddled in the shadows of hailing trees

Setting faith in humanity

I am the emancipated son of pagan gods

Wearing Christian sleeves in personality

Corrupted by a truth

Ringing of emotion

A belief in auras

Passing mere away

With time dear (traditions/

Transitions emancipatory)

Time is standing still

Rotation of a dark curtain

Veil of otherworldly

The sun spun flickering shadows

In the vagrancies

A chilling notion something was

Is still and what is a dream

He shivered at his spine

Like an axis for reprieve

A grey bird he shook

Like an angel

That like a coward bled into his soul

And was his guardianship

As the blessed saved deceived their souls

And eerily fathomed Him alone

A dark place for dust to wither

No saviour quite perspicacious enough

A poverty of religion

Rationalized to moat

Of ideology depressed on tongues

As an ailment to expression

Language in the grain

Shivering

Like fear does mock the good of soul

Revolting the (cultured/occulted) hush

Abstinence of relenting belief in hues

He’s passing fast away

I’ve imagined dust like solitude

Films my skin

In time

Retreating old stubborn conviction

The passion must escape

The flickering hide of legacy

Carving deep into the poor man’s night

A nostalgic wilderness

This silence heaving stuttered

Convulsing asexual indigo

At the shrill of violin strings

The Eastern machination of pride

He spoke like a glitch

An estranged mariner

Sailing endless seas of guiltless depth

Like a bird in prostrate cradle

Out of the body abyss

His soul is waiting on becoming

Still so passing away

His chest heaves this ribcage

Gaunt of lordsome shrines

And the angels whisper him to wake

A holocaustic asylum

Reaches only a passing hand

Air like to puncture distance this riveting

Consolation raving childish

To present a world assimilated

In the soulful historic ignorance

Has a past so fast away

Fragments of mosaic reflection

An introspect absent existential

Though relieved in the evasive blue light

Of wildflowers

A stamp of violet mockery

The burden irrelevant in legacy

Of disintegrating response

Just the simmering scarlet oaks

Lining the canal strings of ancestry

Like accordions

I remember swans playing a soft silence on violins

The late night I swallowed soul

And imposed my fears into the red light machinery

The (dark-room) developing wildflowers

Starved of ambient light

Evoking soft blue featherings

I remember cowardice

Diving nevertheless into freezing rivers

Not able to shed a tear in this cold

I can only wither in the fall

Passing away repetitions

Captures tight the grit of dusty memories

In neon snowflake cages

I remember insanity

And I loved the world that way

I didn’t shiver in the cold

I didn’t stutter repeat

He didn’t shake like a schizophrenic coward

Thinking his personality away

When he died

Still I sit thinking

Still I’m falling grey

I remember light

Teeming deconstruction

The shading carve of lumbering trees

Caving in the empty forest

I heard the thoughtless rumble

I felt the wash of retreat

And I pecked my lover

Like an angel of a bird

To shatter the solitude

And cradle the abyss out of my shaking body

And she screeched like a raven

His lips were so cold

He passing away

At evening glow he leapt for the river

Impassioned disarray

The current icing on the rhapsody

It shattered his soul

Like a prayer on a hollow glass

The residue of darkened lips

Invoking ecstasy

They shook they quivered

At personalities out of body out of mind

They glitched they faded

Like digital traces

They passing away

I raced home heretic avenues

The capillary to faith

Tributary to the rain

It’s grey

My love is a dream

I’m pecking with the angels

And his breathing is fading

He passing away

The tunnels are coagulating in torrents

Skies a heavy sensuous

Shaking

Shades of grey (intention/

In tension) he passed at last away

And my head strained to birth the sun

Past through the horizon

And open the vagrant womb

On ambient night it’s parlor

The private hush of victory

His passing gasp away

We met so soon

In silent eyes

And the cello moaned of home

Cellistka combs and cries

It’s quiet now to roam

The fields of bright blue wildflowers

How passing fast the day

He believes it not

They sang his leveling

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