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Mark Mark Poem
It’s closing in,
The harmonic melody,
It’s tone deliberately grim.
As a one-time melody, it is heard by all.
A familiar, yet unfamiliar ring.
For the majority - its tune is distance.
But like all those before, I can hear it-
I can hear it from deep within.
It’s seduction.
Always terribly well-advantaged,
Overpowering,
Never once balancing.
From a figure showing us from within, it gives a gesture done to many before myself,
Void of rush,
It’s time for our dance.
What of my arm?
What tames my reach?
What keeps my arm dangling at my side?
Something foreign-
Something I cannot recognize...
Limbs void of any flesh, it coaxes with its twists and turns
Its movements are deliberate,
Deliberately leaves one to feel left out.
Not special but eternal,
Our well-worn dance.
But unlike it’s “ending”, it is mine instead.
Copyright © Mark Mark | Year Posted 2019
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Details |
Mark Mark Poem
The multitudinous clenches of despair joust intermittently.
Make it hurt.
No witnesses. No empathy. Nor apathy. My stagnation.
The question of purposefulness has the inconsequential ringing of tinnitus banging in my noggin.
Who to bear witness?
Beyond “you,” I suppose...
Thou nameless, faceless, formless and ing omnipresent
God? Given my luck...
Crawling and flowing in my body - more so than my own blood - though never foreign. A homogenous mixture “we” are.
Invasive “you” are not.
Permeating and crushing my existence.
Not of me but never foreign, never.
“You” to bear witness.
My brain rackles with any and all manifestations of grief. How predictable.
Where are “you?”
Inside and outside and inside out and outside out - never foreign.
Take my life then.
Be not afraid. Take my life.
Make this invitation to a new aspiration of my decimation my proclamation.
The after-thought of symbolization, of matter, of merit-
Take my life
I am tired - tired - tired of this rigamaroo
Take my life. Take my breath.
“YOU!”
GIVE. IT. MEANING.
Copyright © Mark Mark | Year Posted 2025
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