(This is a really old poem, which I'd forgotten about, but was reminded of by a co-conspirator, and my constant crisis situation supporter. Thought I might put it up. Cheers! :) )
A river of the shade of azure
Flows near by, near the dark moor.
Long have I known this engaging beast
And seen it change for men of sparring histories.
A tuneless timpani in the backdrop.
A raging savage descending from the hilltop.
An ascetic's unravelling epiphany.
A necklace beneath the crepuscular moonbeam.
The river whispers its thoughts of clandestine,
To the epimorphic rays born of the divine.
But I have seen it sell its true enigma
To a soulless, world less traveller.
A sinless, singular stretch of blue.
A captivating nymph, dancing beneath the moon.
A devious, scheming train of thought.
A safe haven for the enactment of a fatal plot.
On the bank of the river which flows beyond the Viridian creek,
Is where I saw her, tied tight and incapable of speech.
Torn and broken, two specks of nothingness held my gaze
As I watched, silently, from the encumbering wilderness.
A shallow and screeching piece of music.
A soul stripped and scarred of everything abusive.
A violated shade of red, spilling on a canvas,
A darkening river, washing away a cask of ashes.
The river had been my home of absolute solace
For eight and a half pairs of solstices
And when I become a witness to the charade of violation,
I was bound to return to perform the encore of silent ovation.
A scar in the lusty summer.
A playful and gushing river.
A record playing the last strains of Spring
And the colour of dark crimson slowly mixing.
Spiral patterns formed unrestrained before my stilled sight
And I watched the giant leviathan throttle underneath the sky.
It drowned the sound of two souls copulating,
One breathless, the other never breathing.
A turn of the wind.
A naked offering.
A frozen body, covered in mud,
Another gyrating, then a deadened thud.
I watched as he cleansed his hands
And looked at the heavens, for a shower of reprimands.
All that remained was death frozen in her eyes,
And the sound of birds chirping titillating lies.
A perfect body, born of mud and clay.
A hate song of the heavens, to mark the death of another day.
A desperate attempt to move, a plea, a pray.
Another killer returning, in a future of directionless gray.
Long after, I saw the contours of the eternal river
Turn black and cobalt with shades of silver
As I witnessed the death of another dying face,
Raped and killed near the river, near the wilderness.
A repeat of a lost record.
A shattered applause, for the encore.
A lost childhood, a broken man.
Another witness and a second washing of hands.
... A trade of souls, a binding thread.
A place beckoning the witness of the dead.
A retelling of a story, a photograph from before.
A rapist found dead, drowned to the river floor.
(2012)
A river of the shade of azure
Flows near by, near the dark moor.
Long have I known this engaging beast
And seen it change for men of sparring histories.
A tuneless timpani in the backdrop.
A raging savage descending from the hilltop.
An ascetic's unravelling epiphany.
A necklace beneath the crepuscular moonbeam.
The river whispers its thoughts of clandestine,
To the epimorphic rays born of the divine.
But I have seen it sell its true enigma
To a soulless, world less traveller.
A sinless, singular stretch of blue.
A captivating nymph, dancing beneath the moon.
A devious, scheming train of thought.
A safe haven for the enactment of a fatal plot.
On the bank of the river which flows beyond the Viridian creek,
Is where I saw her, tied tight and incapable of speech.
Torn and broken, two specks of nothingness held my gaze
As I watched, silently, from the encumbering wilderness.
A shallow and screeching piece of music.
A soul stripped and scarred of everything abusive.
A violated shade of red, spilling on a canvas,
A darkening river, washing away a cask of ashes.
The river had been my home of absolute solace
For eight and a half pairs of solstices
And when I become a witness to the charade of violation,
I was bound to return to perform the encore of silent ovation.
A scar in the lusty summer.
A playful and gushing river.
A record playing the last strains of Spring
And the colour of dark crimson slowly mixing.
Spiral patterns formed unrestrained before my stilled sight
And I watched the giant leviathan throttle underneath the sky.
It drowned the sound of two souls copulating,
One breathless, the other never breathing.
A turn of the wind.
A naked offering.
A frozen body, covered in mud,
Another gyrating, then a deadened thud.
I watched as he cleansed his hands
And looked at the heavens, for a shower of reprimands.
All that remained was death frozen in her eyes,
And the sound of birds chirping titillating lies.
A perfect body, born of mud and clay.
A hate song of the heavens, to mark the death of another day.
A desperate attempt to move, a plea, a pray.
Another killer returning, in a future of directionless gray.
Long after, I saw the contours of the eternal river
Turn black and cobalt with shades of silver
As I witnessed the death of another dying face,
Raped and killed near the river, near the wilderness.
A repeat of a lost record.
A shattered applause, for the encore.
A lost childhood, a broken man.
Another witness and a second washing of hands.
... A trade of souls, a binding thread.
A place beckoning the witness of the dead.
A retelling of a story, a photograph from before.
A rapist found dead, drowned to the river floor.
(2012)
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