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thymos Aug 2015
could this be the final destination
or just another step in the journey?
you and i, and the countless nameless, all
united in struggle—but where, then,
the exclusion, the adversary, the exploiter?
who holds the pen that controls the course of this story?
and is it running out of ink? must we
steal it for our own use? or snap it and
start writing only in pencil or pixels?
or is the paper on fire, opportunity turned to smoke?
perhaps the kingdom of ends and heaven
shall never be inscribed onto the earth,
not even for a brief, hard won daybreak.
divided we stand on the polluted planet,
where walls rise higher and bigger bombs fall daily,
where camps overflow, half starve and so many displaced,
where private capital propels technology
and its shadow of terror and invisible chains,
and genocide is a good price for oil and raw materials.
could this be the final destination
or just another step in the journey?
neither philosophers nor poets can tell us;
if we can find the People, maybe then we'll know.
for now, at least, some of us have tomorrow.

have i spoken of a saviour? rejoice, hear woe.

there is no one to save us, no one to save us:
God was made flesh and died on the cross erected by Empire:
Christ the Rebel murdered, forsaken by Himself,
and a Book brings down Rome;
His suffering image lives on, the Holy Spirit of Resistance lives on
if we choose it: we are absolutely
responsible—absolutely responsible
for our own destiny. wherefore the spear?
it pertains to believers of Truth to move mountains stone by stone.
equality and welfare over wealth!
perhaps it is our turn to cast fire
and we must learn how to set fire to fire itself.
little bit of communist theology to tie things up: wwjd tho, really tho
thymos Aug 2015
i'm subjectivated by the gaze of your coruscating eyes,
i must risk disaster, fly, and not be petrified;
that smile, that smile inspires a desire,
a desire to inspire that smile of yours myself.
thymos Aug 2015
where is the time that drips like honey from the ark of eternity?
under the starry skies that are you eyes!
and yes, i've used that metaphor too many times:
so be it! so be it!

soft are the lips of truth, unworthy are my own.
up, down: my ever undulating tongue.
sinking into your seraphic image,
i slow dance with plasma shed from the sun.
thymos Jul 2015
the moon has changed its face
but i cannot.
were i strong enough
to push back the sorrowful tide,
this love could reach you once more.
thymos Jul 2015
rattling in the canyons of madness,
where did you make this pilgrimage from?
where are you going?
or are you dancing, with no concern with where you might finish,
but only for how well you danced?
this man was given the world and this one
a space on the pavement
and hands to beg and a skull to contain a torturer and shame—
a thousand others pass by:
hollow, hollow, hollow! and i the same!
who wills the world to be as such?
it's not hard to know why.
who builds monoliths, piercing the gutted sky,
on the destitution of my connection to you
out of the concentrated expense of countless invisible victims?
in the shadows of their towering opulence:
sorrow, sorrow, sorrow.
i'm sorry, i do not know, alone, how to help.
thymos Jul 2015
seen from time to time,
effortlessly irrupting
in this dull, grey world:
the rainbow veiled mystery,
untouched by fate, beckoning.
never approaching,
i paint grey on grey,
deciphering my symptom.
never the right time, i must
overtake myself!
i can, because i must!
thymos Jul 2015
a madman shouting on a street corner:
"the apocalypse already happened!
it happened in your sleep!
and this is but a nightmarish dreamscape
on the brink of fiery daybreak!
the apocalypse already happened!"
i briefly ponder my life choices and move on.
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