Nectarous taste would not surcease
in torture now that’s my showpiece;
I sit in a hard chair pallid,
there’s solace in something solid;
Give fine obeisance to the madness,
decayed memories savor sadness;
Such enmity in your answer,
the pinnacle of gross grandeur;
Your lotion now my nepenthe,
letting me drown so easily;
Rocking on this rickety porch,
that scent hits me like a blowtorch;
Alone, I want to be swaddled
in each moment that we bottled;
I’m locked in a living tomb
rusted with such a stale gloom;
Filthy stench, can you smell it?
Perfume for some to covet;
In a cataleptic state
circumvention seen too late;
Doppelgänger could not withdraw,
prose signed ‘Edgar Ravenclaw’.
The Flash
When the is thunder and lightning fall to earth
let us call the lightning “Flash” when hitting the ocean
it does not die but sinks to the sea like a bubble
waiting in a cataleptic slumber.
When the call came, they rose from the shaking sea
upwards and behind the clouds.
The meteorological conditions had taken a turn for
the worse, clouds were running out of flashes.
The vain Thor, with his hammer, striking an anvil was
not effective only produced small glimmers that
didn’t reach the earth.
Thus, fortified clouds were ready for the winter.
A Mystic from 13th Century Siena, Italy.
She was a popular curiosity in town, because of her many visions, ecstasies, and miracles. Once in a hospital a maid came upon Aldobrandesca in a trance. The saint appeared cataleptic, muscles
rigid, unconscious and without feeling.
Aldobrandesca’s biographer says the woman screamed in fear,
summoning all to see her, whom she thought was dead. Some were amazed, others amused. They began to punch, pinch and prick her
with pins, and burn her fingers with candle flames. When she came to
her senses her entire body was in excruciating pain, all she said was,
“May God forgive you.”
That act of forgiveness says more about Aldobrandesca than all of her paranormal experiences. Visions and ecstasies may be evidence of a supernatural touch but mercy expressed to others, is a sure sign of
Divine Love. We honor Aldobrandesca also known as St. Alda, for her charity, not for her trances.
(HER FEAST DAY IS APRIL 26 TH.)
Lupus Dei, grief of the heart, sealed eyes...
Has he not spoken of the total collapse of his identity?
Gorged in simplicity of his violent shadows, foreboding
Giving almost the most beautiful cataleptic look full of texture
The one that is in a dreamland between love and longing,
A heart completely exposed to a bayonet forged in the fires at Mediana.
A persistent agony of dissolution shall make no rule
As I demand it to be silent, in my head, in my heart, in my soul,
It shall not display negative or destructive rituals, or
Insensible impatience or it shall not raise the voice or angst
That would disturb the peace at a small well in the oasis of aspiration,
It shall not be prohibitive, unduly, infringing or chaotic,
It shall not be so!
Oh shadows, shadows of the dark,
Set the chain of events free
Let them be modest and true
In the darkened arc – ignite a spark
Let me in – let it be!
As ever, with love.
END
****
NOTE
****
Due to the character limitations this long poem had to be split into 7 parts to post.
Come closer, the canvas collapsed
This clairvoyant contains no confidence
Constant creative calamity clouds his clarity, continuously complicating his collective
From conscientious to cataleptic
Cooped up, closed off in his cranium
Centuries and centimeters continue and contort, constantly trying to keep count; counting the clicks of his center clock
A creator, now a captive; cut off from his countless colors- his core gets colder and colder
The conscious consensus has been cleaved, captured in his comatose cocoon
His chi calls out to consult
Without complaint or coercion, he is calm in his current conundrum
Conjuring a circumventing counter to this circumstantial change
Comfortable in his corporeal cathedral, catapulted through his cerebral cosmos
His life cannot cease
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