Seed

[silverwheel]

[working title only]

Some storm
wants to destroy me,
fundamental and autonomous,
yet this time there is no warning siren,
no flag,
no consciousness.

I am no ascetic,
I am eccentric!
I am the diseased animal
begging for a doctor
to burn away the poison
but lacking a common language.
I am the clothing tattered
and fading
from years of misuse,
I am the button you want to display
above your breast
for style
and edge.

I am the tumor refusing to dissolve,
I am the angel
dreaming of cursing immortality,
and like a demon I do not fall,
I explode.
I destroy flags
I denounce gods
I tear fabric and skin

Passive before static images
we sink from thought
and lie in our bodies
passive and receptive.
To the gods who denounce me, I blaspheme,
a heresy as old as the first dissent
from a citizen cowering before the Emperor,
but I dream
of a time as ancient
as the volcanic earth,
to the future long enough to see
every human perish
not from tornadic fury
or the chaos of nature
but the aging
capturing every mortal.

Here, I am alive,
witnessing to disciples.

 

[Raz]

That came across to me as a kind of literary blend of Marilyn Manson and Max Ernst. It's a dramatic narrative without being really melodramatic and I really like your imagery.

 

[plazma]

This poem was an extremely interesting one to read, and I found it to be full of interesting and mentally challenging imagery. The style in which it is written is certainly what I would term Manson-esque, though perhaps with somewhat more poetical panache.

Good work.

-plaz out-