Wednesday, October 18, 2006

Roaring

Onward, these revolutions,
and let them come to their
pinnacle and fall like we
all are doomed to do,

Let them bring the water
from the distant river and
spend it out on the ground,
fruitless, finally, but proud
and unbroken by the futility
of their quest.

Onward, these grim voiced
angels, desolating all they
once wished to save, love
turned slowly to hate within
their flesh like thorns broken
off and festering beneath the
skin,

And we, their charges, who
have grown to hate them for
all the times we've been saved,
grown to hate the unearthly
beauty of their countenances,
because envy never dies,
and they lay claim to heavens
we will never know, we
heathens, we intransigent
masses, yearning for the
peace of solitude, when
all higher purposes are renounced,
when we have filed ourselves down
to the base nature, when we have
done away with the mysteries of
hope, and we are alone in the
roaring silence of the abyss.

3 comments:

M. Shahin said...

"and they lay claim to heavens
we will never know, we
heathens, we intransigent
masses, yearning for the
peace of solitude, when
all higher purposes are renounced,
when we have filed ourselves down
to the base nature, when we have
done away with the mysteries of
hope, and we are alone in the
roaring silence of the abyss."

We have definitely have dived to the base, and strangely are very satisfied in that place. And yes mystery is largely ignored for the known. Very true words throughout although a higher purpose should be flown towards always and always believe in the impossible :-)

Excellent poem that hits on many areas of life. Keep writing!

MB said...

love
turned slowly to hate within
their flesh like thorns broken
off and festering beneath the
skin,

What a strong and dark image, disturbing, with religious connotation. Sometimes it takes me a little time to absorb what you've written, and even then I know what it makes me think of but I wonder what you were thinking of.

Firehawk said...

m.shahin,

Thanks a lot for coming over and saying such nice things about my poetry. I find myself becoming very disheartened about the general state of humanity. Although the people I meet as individuals are often bright, kind, and aware of their connection to the greater world, the general trend of society is often downward.

I find that pressing the grapes of these glum thoughts often yields the bitter wind of poems such as this one, and I am always happy when others can wade through the negativism and see the disillusioned optimist beneath.

Again, thanks for coming over, and I hope to see your comments in the future.

MB,

Ah, the "What was he thinking?" question. Well, there's usually some precipitating factor or situation that gets me going. It can be something overt, or a more free-floating anxiety, but it'll bring me to the keyboard. From there, if the time is ripe, I pretty much sit back and let the words come. I've said before that it's more like getting a download from the Mother Ship than really crafting anything, at least during the best of writing moments. Of course, there's the clean-up process, but I guess that I trust my subconscious to get the important things out.

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