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Flaming Odyssey, the artwork Zdzislaw Beksinski (art number; BE84, 1984)
Notes About The Poem
Hello, dear soup angels! This is my first ever authentic ekphrasis, so I dunno if I did well ... a lil nerve-wrecking, but this is how my soul bled after seeing this absolutely timeless artwork. Crafted for Ink Empress's contest, Pyramid of Peace, and I have also used her prompts, twisted a bit here and there.
Flaming Odyssey, the artwork Zdzislaw Beksinski (art number; BE84, 1984)
saffron stardust spirits sobered ,
the serpent sun breathes silence ~
as it bleeds fire-orange freckles,
resting the ruse in hesitance
where this saga is a sultry siesta of Ra ~
the siren slaughtered by deities
who never reckoned
the dialect of our ravenous refuse.
" Alas, the tremors
of your lips sliver ~
sizzling across the weather
as I sieze your stretched sighs
from sangria sunset streaks ~
for this scythe foresooth
becomes my murderous wraith,
and I seek not
to convince thou
that we are withheld
beyond a g e "
stripped with satin and solace,
this sharpness slices the Zen
in a white - sonata noise
where all is not heard,
clustered in clandestine orchards
of citrine kohl kismet,
ashes drizzle in esoteric emeralds
unforgettable ~ unfathomable ~ unforgivable
the cesium conquest crystallises
in the crown of the conjurer,
but you L'ile d'amour ~
listen to this symphony
sizzling in scarlet sopranos ~
I nevermore remain
your beau with sakura lips,
releasing notes of honeyed hymns,
as summers wither in prejudice
the nocturnal neons swell
monsoon reclaims mayhem
and winter whispers another wilt,
thou my love
shall still be born in demise
every half-moon,
where each bereaved star
must stay banished
and forbidden, until, you and I
surrender in baptized reminiscence
of the tendrils of each other ...
" do you trace the titiliating titanium
tethered on the tongue
of the bereaved twilight,
thunder that ruffles in tattooes
engraved into these skeletal branches
that breathe only you ~
the riptide rupture
of rustic reassurance
that recedes in your russets ...?
Alas, what a verse is to him
whose pulse is spellcasted
with a kohl curse of psyche ?
what is your scarlet sphinx
to the one , Emperor of Eclipse ~
when thou, beloved has been
breathless ~ bonded ~ boundless"
clandestine rust is our only recluse
in this void of velvet vaults
I keep a blood-dripping vampire rose
a dose of delusion
as you sip the sorrow of swarovski seas
sitting alone the shoreline ~
where my flesh has dried
and the driftwood remembers
our remnants,
in the whirlwind vortex
of venom and peacock light ,
streaming an astral eloquence
in supernova scars ,
because everything ... and nothing...
rests deeper than the daunt of death
darling, deceased to dust
we are hollow ... the phoenix rust
the dawn and the dusk
diagnozed with dangerous dilemmas ,
dwarfed with dissected dreams
we are those tragic trespassers
unrescued from this
anesthetic atonement of detachment
but attached to the atopsied assonance ~
scintillating in anatomical arteries
pumping peridot poison
and primrose passion
as perfumes of promises
left on an eternal pyre ,
across the flaming sapphire spheres
that resigned to reign the rule with rife ...
"... then the poem in you ceased
and left only enigmatic envy
in the corner of embossed eyes
that had seen you,
only in golden grief
and there from the grave of anguish
my spirit hath sung wrath..."
as history presses into
medieval pages ~
arced through the mausoleum
of a scentless flaming odyssey
that they read ~
yet can never imprison us
in mere letters of lethal translation,
because we may have lost
the battle but our sacred ink
shall inhale the soulfulness
flowing in carved constellations ~
cutting through
the cursive catacomb of
their chiseled crimson threads ...
"They say ~
I should be fluent in hate
but I speak so in love
when thou have been
the only time that
I ever lived
when this, mon amour
is the only morgue of morrow
that I shall seek ...
forever ...
and evermore ... "
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