1. |
Medulla Sprig
00:59
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2. |
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|
Ambrosial waft of scent-memories among the listless decay
As a rare tautness dishevels the flow and corrupts our resolve
Fallen to forlorn, a body (to) begrime
Embers of a bitter time
There, in the throes of despair
Pull that weight, fan that flame
Apathy beset form
Raze the sun
Lost…pulse
Casts one to stelliform
Cessation of earthly mold
Ruins – Ruins
no longer desirable?
Blighted in the unbearable lightness of being
As a specimen of divine folly; alone in our bodies
Pus and potency
In visions of disease
Impregnated with venom
Likened: a jolt to flesh
Wistfully
Contracting
Fading
We are done.
We are gone.
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3. |
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A coalescence to archaic idiom
Pipers of a solemn source longing for icons of yore…of distant dirges,
pangs spin freely midst arboreal shrouded mass
And though, many blinking men remain at the cusp
The sacraments of salvation are sprawling
And lauded is the dominion with precise jurisdiction
and the monolith of power breaks with trauma and scars
time is but the wellspring of pain – lost twixt adolescence and death
assuage my memory
soothe me in the end
yet, rest here until then
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4. |
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Vesper bells hailing
The loom of harsh day
Vesper bells hailing
As mounting sorrow furrows the fields - to do, as it does, through deeds of misfortune. This creature, hardened by tragedy and fouled by timeless misery - Purges, in a momentary lapse in stoicism, the last of marrow
Crying bewilderment between joy and sorrow
Vesper bells hail the loom of harsh days
to exsanguinate this body, lain
look upon the horizon
with tranquil eyes
be still with me and turn these eyes in
Accursed struggle over
Lifeless bliss
Cloistered in crepuscular forbearance
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5. |
The Wicker Pall
13:18
|
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|
Innumerous forms shading the last ray
as rain waters drift through rock and bone
my blood laces eluvium in subsoils
minerals gifted new horizons in the hope of unlikely birth
to look before me and lust for finish
to then behold my weakness and conceal my sentiment
Into the wicker pall. My history of decay.
Into the wicker pall. History of decay.
Cutting the ravine and eaten alive by apathy
souls fade from the rind
better to be, better to seek
mortality left for the earth to see
I drain to nothingness like the noble waters’ seep
Among a series of lifeless roots, my coffin
I drain to nothingness
And share in the twist and fold of wicker
I drain to nothingness
like the noble waters’ seep
among bedrock and mud, my being
I drain to nothingness
For my event-horizon
no dismay
blood to earth
blood for the birth
(sorrowed but guiltless sweet)
I am drained.
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6. |
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|
Hold on to that horizon.
…be it sordid or sweet, lustful and pure
What remains of that horizon?
-As it comes to me in force and faith
-As it comes to me with love’s cryptic embrace
And our bodies break
To the sway of decay
Hails the relentless day
But the bones of romance
Will fossilize our stance
Could it really be left to chance?
So, with blood we dowse
What’s left of her tattered blouse
Last days in the Charnel House
Give unto me your skeleton key
locks relieved
Death
be
free
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