I Am Touched
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From the anthology, Complaining to the Clock, a work in progress.
I Am Touched
I am touched.
You came to me in spirit,
As it should be,
And though I can hear the steel rumblings
Of the outside neurotic world,
I can hear your silent ghost voice squealing there,
As with a trumpet pealing,
With gnashing heralds afoot;
We timorous pawns cover the ground
For a fool and a twit.
But you came to me in spirit,
What is it you want to say?
“There is no capacity here
For any real truth because the fools,
Are running the film sequences,
With a creative terror unmatched
Since the old epochs,
When the ignorant wrote fat empty volumes
To the darkness, and its bottomless chasms
Of pyrite doctrines,
Designed by more fleshed-out fools,
With noses bleeding of putrid malignancies,
To entrap the masses with lies
And determined deceptions.
There is no space here for anything remotely true,
As a mirage feeds
Nothing upon nothing, in the dry wind.”
You came to me in spirit, so,
Am I touched? Did you steal
My drowsy and still mind
For an hour in the dark night,
And tattoo those words upon my soul
So that I could fearfully turn back?
I do not want this responsibility,
Oh spirit ghost, oh you with
Gray shoulders and red hemorrhaging earlobes,
Arrived back from the old epochs.
I am touched.
.
Copyright © Stark Hunter | Year Posted 2019
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