To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
Click Here To add this poem to your "Voting Possibilities" list!
Encyclical (Muéstreme un hombre cuerdo y lo curaré para usted.) How quickly you return, Brother, From whence I scattered Your ashes. Again I call you I cannot comprehend you but By the name I was called worthless Then condemn And rage against myself. How can you be more? Yet you come for me, why? I have no room for you, no room. Now your eyes extract my soul Across an extra dimension As if I but exist in two Or as if I did not exist Without you, as if I have no other room Inside. Dread Brother, I see you See me And my fantasy of life Dies. When you come, Under your lens you smoke me Into the ash appalling, Filling my own throat from the urn Of my cremation. So thus do you create, Incendiary Lamb, Flesh of my burning flesh, All the room you want. |
Additional Notes:
"The Lucifer legend is in no sense an absurd fairytale; like the story of the serpent in the Garden of Eden, it is a 'therapeutic' myth." - CG Jung
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2005-10-15 00:29:01
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
MAH,
What am I supposed to do? You deserve to be told that this is one of the finest poems submitted this month. I'm as lazy as you are . . . you should understand. I could try to pick this apart, to fill this white box with some semblance of wisdom. I could.
But no.
Thus it is, and the remainder thus. Dust. Or ash.
MSS