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mirror man
Senior Member
since 2001-01-08
Posts 814


0 posted 2001-05-07 12:23 PM











deliverance


What is it they would know?  
The zone grows hot and I will hammer my heels.
Will they feel the hated knot
in my tired leg?  Will they hear the years
of commanded sentence: you will deliver.
And what will they see of  hellburnt notes
born of fear?

My maker speaks: deliver this and bring
news of new creation, the upper rings.
And I must go.

I move by the devil's wind; it drives
my shadow with me, always before, there
on my dark side.  Always dying, it thrives
as the lamprey on my eyes.  
If I dare turn my course, I am poisoned.  
My maker made me so, that I not know life,
not know my blind birth, and learn to love my shade.

Blessed be the curse by which I fly!

On lightninged air, I speed forth.  Upward
through the nine rings, an unheavenly course
guided by my parasite.  All around
I see by lamprey eyes the driving force
imprisoned in my maker's image:
hate, lust, greed, despair,
all these combined in their countless forms
to mock the intent of His hand,
the fate of souls locked in visions of hell.

And breaking through to earth,
I wear the clothes of man, I act therefore the norm.  
I walk the land by day, my shadow thus behind me.  
I would forget my errand
if not the leech grows inward.  
Yet still, there is a word I would know,
a word He sends echoing in spheres,
the lush, verdant green at my feet,
the starry skies above,
music in the air, and more, what I've seen
outside my dead birth: hope, honor, faith, love.

Where is this thing I will not see?
The poison fouls the vision in me.

Oh, look what we have done.  
Whatever being that waits on this sentence,
contemplates the devil's ways, acts upon ignorance
certain of these creatures' groping
to sate hunger of the ego, life, circumstance,
calls it fate.  Will so the hand of man reach
into the act of Him, yet will not know
the man himself.  In reaching, they say,
"I am me" as if to make it so.

There is no greater friend of hell.  So many.
In my home, they will say, "I was made in youth"
as if the days thereafter never were,
if they could speak on earth.  
There is no shade in hell.  No pity.  And no true mirth.
Truth?  In hell, there is but one, the only, Me.
But my poisoned eyes yet see hope.  
Still today, here, I see the spheres of God,
freedom in the skies.

My voice grows dim, my vision numb.
The day grows dark under a darker sun.

The dead walk all around me.  I see this:
monsters going by day.  And those alive
see light, only what they believe exists.
So does the poison work upon the mind:
each to each, light to light, and night to night.  
Often I pray, to be free
of knowing, of seeing, of this useless sight
that contradicts the hope of what could be.

True life, not this walking thing.  
To walk the unending day saying, "I survive"
is death.  And that life should come to this
which I see is a lie.  My maker's work
encompasses the ignorant, the blind,
and my journey stretches on to dirt.
There must be more.

I walk the days and see the clock unwind.
God, if I choose life,
if I choose life, be kind.

Would love do this to me?  Make me worry
at the thought of hope, make me tremble
in the sunset wind, make me hurry
from the welcome hand, make me shudder
at a smile, mechanize love, a flower, stars?
If I stop, I stop, never to go again.
Life, sweet life within my reach,
and yet so far.

God, tell me it isn't so.
I reach out to touch
just one

and I am undone.

I have strayed.  I was never meant to see
the light of day.  I was never meant to touch
the earth, the wind, the rain, never meant to be
in love, never meant to want so much.
Never meant to need what never was in me.
Never meant to think, to hope, to feel.
The invisible beckons,
and these words come forth in slow labor
against the force of all hell.

Had I angel wings, fire for hair,
music in my voice,
ichor dripping from my hands,
I could say no more than this:

Deliver me from evil.

copyright 2001






[This message has been edited by mirror man (edited 05-09-2001).]

© Copyright 2001 mirror man - All Rights Reserved
Tiersdin
Member Elite
since 2000-11-17
Posts 2364
east coast
1 posted 2001-05-07 04:58 PM


Wow!

~Tier

coyote
Senior Member
since 2001-03-17
Posts 1077

2 posted 2001-05-07 08:23 PM


"Will so the hand of man reach
into the act of Him, yet will not know
the man himself."

A very piercing philosophical statement/question, Mirror Man.
Great work, as you usually give us.
Thanks.  

"The rose, like the cactus flower, protects herself with thorns. We however, impale ourselves on their beauty."
coyote

Voiceless
Senior Member
since 2001-02-19
Posts 686
Under the stars upon the wind
3 posted 2001-05-07 09:03 PM


Incredible
is the only word i can think
of that would do this true justice...

~*Freedom Is Not Free*~ (Korean War Memorial)

Rosebud1229
Senior Member
since 2000-04-05
Posts 1813
North Carolina
4 posted 2001-05-07 11:14 PM


powerful words,awesome write.
Severn
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-07-17
Posts 7704

5 posted 2001-05-08 06:42 AM


This is really well done..you have developed your style well I think - not every writer can claim a style of their own...

K

All obscurity starts with a danger:
Your dangers are many. I
Cannot look much but your form suffers
Some strange injury
Sylvia Plath

mirror man
Senior Member
since 2001-01-08
Posts 814

6 posted 2001-05-08 11:18 PM


Tier -- All Wow!s humbly accepted.

Coyote -- I guess that is a little philosophical.  I'm glad if it gave you something to think about.

Voiceless -- Well said for one without a voice.

Rosebud -- May this help you also.

Severn -- I guess there is a style to it.

You have all give me things to think about.  Thank you all very much.

Swamp¤Faeryie
Member
since 2000-12-04
Posts 393
fairyland....of course;)
7 posted 2001-05-19 02:40 PM


Hmmm i seemed to have missed this it's first time around.... you speak some very true thoughts,well done.

sammi

much madness is divinest sense,and much sense the starkest madness~Emily Dickinson

anonymous albert ?
Deputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Elite
since 2001-03-23
Posts 2979

8 posted 2001-05-21 12:20 PM


this poem was powerful and amazing...wondeful job...

if i die before i wake , i pray the lord my soul will take-"when thugs cry"

poni
Junior Member
since 2001-05-17
Posts 21
Nebraska
9 posted 2001-05-21 01:53 AM


very powerful...magnetic...drew the eyes and captured!
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