I saw a storm of Ice and Stone,
Curling North the footed hill;
From which grows the cold and bone,
Beholden to whom the beggars kill.
The ashen clouds above the alabaster-
A sieve to the dense and wet-
Hurls itself upon a pastor
Who preaches that which isn't yet.
I saw a wyrm, or an armless slither,
Bubble from the preacher's mouth.
It curled in smoke into the weather
Which had boiled to the South.
Lest the East of orchid hue,
Eclipsed by this tempest's crest.
In neon strips, atramentous blue;
I waited, watching, in the West.
The spin of stone and thick of ice,
Had eyes for that beneath its gale.
It at last approached, to name its price,
And returned my gaze with orbs of scale.
Their pupil slits,
Bright stalactites,
Hung in sable ink of iris;
Claimed my sight, without a fight,
Traded for words scrawled on blood papyrus.
The atramentous night was without light.
Terror pursued the frightened running man.
And got closer the harder that he ran.
He screamed his fear into the Stygian night.
The dark was broken by something blacker.
At first indistinct but was growing near.
The man was running in obvious fear.
He fled as from an unseen attacker.
In panic he turned to impose a ban.
The shapeless pursuer stopped and congealed.
As it did its frightful face was revealed.
He found that it was from himself he ran.
She's a whisper, a gentle breeze
a soft and sturdy canopy
that wordless watches over me
her tender touch is all I need
to release the beast, set him free
and calm this rage inside of me
when black is all my heart can be
she is the only one I need
The droplets slowly crying down,
dripping , hollow, beyond my frown
my morbid soul scratching around
the ancient soil and wanton ground,
crazed in search I've finally found
a glow, through my mind's battleground,
this light of love that shines profound,
radiates from your heart, unbound
02/14/2022
poetically sees
rubescent threads of life
enmesh me in its tortuous hold
as it stings me
with the venom
of a thousand bees
i taste its poison
through memories
raveled tight
in life's intricate grasp
as each victim
became prey
within the
clasp of death's
atramentous fold
i dangle on the threshold
within the labyrinth of mind
between the stitches
of life and death
where i struggle alone
trying to free myself
before i become
the next victim of fate
July 11, 2019
picture #3
Poetically Me THIS PICTURE WHAT CHA' SEE
Sponsored by James Edward Lee Sr
Conquered by the circumambient incandescent
We are impuissant to all illumination
Its conflagrant presence remains incessant
The Mother's diurnal course without reincarnation
Purity of white, in its bright obsolescent
Beauty transmogrified to incarceration
Destitute to substance of atramentous
Yearning for just an ounce of clandestiness
Reverse fear of aura that is portentous
The cosmos suffocating, attempting solace
Abyss of chaos, our species remains apprentice
Our essence, Yang without Yin, remains starless
Oh please, I plead
Listen to my beseech
I raise my hands out to you
take them please
In this dark void I walk through
there is no comfort
no warmth
no joy
slowly it leaches out all that I hold
when will I ever reach the end?
Do you know where the end is?
Is the end where the end of the end is?
Lost, dazed, confused
Did God pluck me out
and strand me here?
three doors, three paths, three choices
one Mundane
ransom me out
an open cage, such as this atramentous nightmare
no end
no path
Is there hope?
Hope is where light is
is the light at the end where darkness is not?
is the light where the light always materializes from?
where
is
it?