Isidore
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Standing up on this polished stone as
A bard once upon a time
In the utopian monarchy of my lonely thought
Sharping up the plight for its prime.
As an apostate of vice
On the face of the last dime,
Announcing to the world my departure
As a ci-devant scribe free of crime.
Of misgiving, I trumpeted via dichotomy of gore
Imbued as I may, silent and subversive
This ambient resembles the inner furor
Pure, hot, melting plasma and perverse
Gratitude for incensed horn in the hand of Isidore!
I have opened this door,
Bearing the downpour of gall,
Presumption full of venom in the mouth
Of a snake wrangling the past
That brings a constant surge of drought
In the life so rough that won’t last.
Give me the strength, for I have fought
A fane carved into stone, for I have known
Give me the pith of what I crave
Like falling feathers from the pillow of love
Where I have seen the maiden
Levitating in the forests of deep, and above.
I extent the space-time to moulder my soul
In the battle that my body won’t endure
But will in self-crucifixion enter the shoal
Of far-away lands, and of peace so pure.
I have chosen you, and given you the power
I awarded you with such a gift
Look at me with your marble blue eyes
The same way I looked at you
From down under, under the skies.
I cannot force the demons floating in the shadows,
I cannot untangle mysteries and secrets
Of innocent feelings, for I have spawn,
Sipping from this streamlet I call heart,
Here is a chalice to drink up from dusk till dawn.
That husky voice I held in my ears
Like the stairway of ascension into music
Into virtue, into solemn dream-world with no fears
Where I could touch the fingers again
Gently like the keys of an accordion
For ought I know, soft and round
Untangle this knot known as Gordian.
How our choices and paths lead to mysteries
How mysteries create despair,
I will kill the serpent on the horizon
And that will make it just and fair.
Copyright © Hound Of Poetry | Year Posted 2019
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