Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
samsa Nov 2020
it starts with the masses.
heaped upon one another in grey, wet bodies
and from the amalgamate of ruined life
rise the silver, brilliant winged
filthy sog and bones sludging off
their unmatched, magnificent light

like shooting stars they ascend
to the enormous white clouds
garnered with the span of their great feathers
wearing masks of divine neutrality

and we

in the masses

stare so longingly at those divine heavens

some of us with patchworks of feather and bones- hopeless things we can barely call wings-
tattered and ripped but still determined, like the writhing of a starved beggar-
flatter unsteadily up
groping desperately at the clouds
with bony, aching fingers
only to meet
solemn and unforgiving
stone

and pushed
back,
tossed

back

into the masses


and like comets, they
rain down

                                          the fall of the inadequate




crashing into the hideously wet festering:
into the decay of the mundane and ordinary


and thus the procession commences
great silver wings nailed with dignified
steel stakes
graceful hands and feet
mangled unforgivingly with hammer and iron

we, the inadequate and mundane and ordinary
we wail, we scream we cry
for the destiny of divinity
in anguish and desperation, our cacophonic chorus
becomes
the great symphony
of the decaying and dying
bathed grotesquely in the light of the holy
we continue to beg and shout and call

the opera of roaring voices:


                                     the crucifixion of the prodigy



as we continue to decay
the weathering, spreading
and becoming, morphing into something no longer
recognizable


slowly we die off
each of us, clawing and howling to our very last moments
in succumbing to mortality
the symphony, melting in its desperate, rabid energy
until the echo of the last
haunted cry-

silences


hence closes

the fall of the inadequate

the crucifixion of the prodigy

and


                           the decay of the mundane and ordinary
on the destinies of the genius, not-yet-genius, and the ordinary man - and their inevitability.

currently trying to improve my amateur writing, please give constructive feedback if you feel compelled.
Nov 2020 · 249
you
samsa Nov 2020
you
Let me take you
Put your hand in mine: in all softness and frankness:
And let us dance
Spin and flurry through a world of white, lavender, gorgeous scarlet, and vigorous cerulean-
The wind our friend, our toes like feathers

Prancing across earth
Held to each other only
by our very fingertips
Never afraid of letting
go

We’re in a forest of orange and bright gold in the sky
Floating toes brushing only air
Soft leaves shroud our heads
we’re blind to everything else
Your lips curl in pure joy, they spill staccato laughter
music to my ears
In this moment, in this breath, we are
Nothing else.
Saw the sun and the moon one and the same
Eclipses of light spanning the entire ocean
It was a world above heaven
and

I saw
you
Hair flying- your locks heavy with shadow and glimmering with light
Face carved from the most
precious
Of nature’s birth and bloom
My eyes tracing your steady legs and gentle hands- to rest on
yours-
your time-stopping; shattering; heartbreakingly beautiful
eyes.


We took off
To a world we had never seen; of new colors and jumping sounds and daunting heights and terrifying speeds-
Look at all this sky! Look at all our freedom! Why search for ground if we weren’t ever to land?
We could go anywhere in the universe- you and I! All of this boundless, endless space!
Let us wrack and demolished to shards, those chains that bound us to the ground-
and let us fly free, free, free-
Just you and I-
flying-


we are free




The sky is iridescent above the clouds
before our clear gazes
I see your face
as beautiful
as pure
as I remember it;
as our hair
tangles in the wind;
and our essence becomes
one-


and…


    follow me, my dear.

Follow me as we


                                     f
                                      a
                       ­                 l  
                                         l


softly tattering into pieces and slivers and smudges
devastating
unravel into a thousand petals
a flurry of pieces that used to be ourselves,
resting on the ground like fallen feathers----
-

never
to
come back
again





our wings have died

our legs have crumbled

and my fingers have gone,

i can no longer see or feel your

beautiful, beautiful face or hair or hands





Ah, can you feel it?          
Can you feel the darkness?
It’s closing in, it’s swallowing us whole,
The point of no return with no choice but to end
Darkness has chased us in
Only black oblivion waits






but i won’t forget

not in my last moments of existence

and  not to the death of my sentient memory

i will

never

forget you

your laugh

your flying hair

your sparkling eyes



even if all ends

even if


i die.




























(do you regret it, my dear?
please leave me feedback, if you feel compelled.
Nov 2020 · 166
shatter
samsa Nov 2020
I don't think you've ever seen
or noticed
the way your hair fluffs in the afternoon breeze
stray pieces wandering
like little fairies
sparkling and bouncing in gold
embraced by the rays of
the dying sun

I now realize
you never really will
notice
see
feel
what I do
when I think
of you

you look into me
and my heart is marbled
caught in those lovely orbs of yours
and it feels
so safe
so kind

only it isn't, and
my marbled heart is shattered
by the winds
smelling of water and leaves
carried away
by fleeting memories
like pages of a book, fluttered and closed
and somehow your lovely, lovely eyes
now strip my heart of its
safe
kind
shine

leaving it raw, aching, burning, exposed
to the unforgiving waters
beneath our feet

too violent to preserve
my fragile love for you

and too merciless
to pity
your precious
light

but I now realize
I
was the one
too merciless, violent
too helpless


to preserve, to save
what I knew
would


shatter

— The End —