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Emilio Mesa Poem
There lay no death down below,
Endless oblivion, the song of the bone,
A path towards nowhere, where stories unfold,
The visions of the dead, a memory untold.
Ancient voices, sobbing at the door,
He who resisted, but could not ignore,
Soon subdued by the directive,
Humanity's entire subconscious collective...
Demons of times past,
Angels that never were,
They all joined together,
All joined me in this realm.
Throughout the ages of nature,
They oscillate out, and back into play,
Living inside a thought from our maker,
Symbols no different from us today...
Copyright © Emilio Mesa | Year Posted 2022
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Details |
Emilio Mesa Poem
He would see friends of his past,
Turn to foes of the present,
They would chase behind his back,
Human shadows, both crooked and unpleasant.
His eyes felt and saw differently,
No longer a need for a nose,
He had new red-colored pincers,
And eight legs with no toes.
Amidst his panic, he felt the waves,
The sandy waves that lured him,
Deep into its treacherous flow,
An opportunity to escape,
Only to that side could he dare to go...
He couldn't move back nor forth,
Was it his imagination?
He could only move in an axis,
The first human to succumb to carcinization...
Copyright © Emilio Mesa | Year Posted 2022
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