Ah, intergenerational envy!
I think we've all been subject
to that impulse now and then.
Like paying tribute
through ritual can change our fate.
Like we can right some cosmic wrong
that left us displaced decades or centuries.
Oh, child of the past!
Gird yourself with books
and records and films.
Barricade the way
leading your present to your future.
Abandon all hope ye who enter here!
For the past is a dream differed,
ripe only for those who pluck it
with a backwards glance.
And the future is grim.
This writhing building contracts
digesting haggard brows and sloughed skin
in a stew of sweaty, fermenting death
as potent and futile as lightning
arcing and lashing until bent
and wound and coiled neatly
turning a cog within a series of cogs
within a series of cogs ad infinitum
producing noise at the cost of friction
spewing endless effluvia skyward
a cosmic howl at the ****** stars
rabid after more paradise to devour
Extended metaphor for an apocalyptic engine.
Inspired by the poetry of Clark Ashton Smith .
alone in the kitchen
forgetting her children
life just a seventy year intermission
punctuated by stillness
The stream splits where the stone sits,
and day-by-day the flow persists
The stone is still, the river flows,
and bit-by-bit the stone erodes
The stream can mend; the stone cannot
The stone relents; the stream resolves
The stream has won, the stone is gone!
said those unwitting of their bond
Now stone is stream, and stream is stone:
one as flesh, and one as bone
The stone lives on a million fold;
Its seedlings off to parts unknown
In a rebellious sleep,
I dreamt of stillness,
my mortal machinery
a garden of rust.
A man, a monument
no whip could stir,
whose sweat is wind
and blood is dust.
The last Luddite
on a throne of junk,
like broken cuffs.
Free at last
yet frozen such.
Free at last
‘till woken up.
To be a flurry,
dancing white noise,
a fragile static
lost to the earth
in an embrace
of sublimating grace
with a thawing kiss
to quiet the storm
Verdant hills where shoots and stalks
stand shoulder to shoulder
towering like emerald cities
Life flies, hops, crawls, slithers, and swims
knowing no bounds but the inherent
laying no claims beyond shelter
Neighbors at peace until hunger stirs
flesh for flesh, blood for blood
first struggle, then silence
A lone vice in an otherwise Eden