Dark Poetry #2 |
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Adonis |
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Poertree Senior Member
since 1999-11-05
Posts 1359UK |
Last week he came down from Olympus to his osier beds, where, among the scrub willow, the only graceful thing in his life soared and shimmered full of silvery morning life, beyond control, growing clear of his self-constructed mythical height. I am not in control my muscles exist beyond me the axe head beyond that the splinters don't fly because of my action ego is apart from the wound the steel wedge bites and sap runs and runs but this is not me not me not me. me? no, I am not the instigator of her fall. This week in the blood rush of a brand new dawn he wades carefully round the tarnished carcass laid out and half submerged in stagnant oily beds. Delicate extremities crisping brown; sliced in the only place within his meagre reach, the ragged stump still bleeding purity and even now shooting clots of thin pale wands. And they vibrate to his touch and play and he admires their pleasing numbers and they admire his uniqueness and they grow swiftly for him and he becomes what each wants: her own Adonis on day release from Hades. Next week, feeling grand, he'll circle the clustered fibrillating clump coppicing, with only a light cleaver he'll execute each betrayal with skill to make the victim thrill to have such sentence passed upon her weaknesses. And the next and the next and the next absorbed in a cyclical orgy each renewal a diminishing pleasure he’ll forget the wide strong anchors that let her rise so high and that the seen is but a shadow of that beneath and that the callous harvest of each feeble sister might, in the sheltered green dip beyond the rise, send the new root tip shoot toward the skies. |
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Poet deVine
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-26
Posts 22612Hurricane Alley |
Not sure what to say here. I'm awed..... |
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Dark Angel Member Patricius
since 1999-08-04
Posts 10095 |
so am I..... Maree |
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Tracey Member Elite
since 2001-08-29
Posts 2808where insanity meets breeding |
Yep, gotta agree. This is an amazing piece of writing. If she who dies with the most toys wins, then can I have some toy boys please? |
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