Written on the Wall
By Ewan
- 1055 reads
Picking through the allusions,
the echo of mermaids’ voices
keeps the ringing in my ears
from sending me the prophet’s gift.
A rift in the material,
a bolt from the blue
beyond all comprehension;
the piece that passeth
all understanding.
Tick,tock, tick,tock
not one clock
shall stop for thee,
thou shouldst be satisfied
with the bell
-weather,
whether or no
- I know whence these
fractured lines come.
Some will look for meaning,
gleaning subtleties of fiction,
their predilection and affection
for every Tom, Ted or Dylan
ever pressed on paper,
projected onto these runic words.
These words were penned,
who set them free?
Not I. There is a price
for every letter.
“Mene, Mene, Tekel, Parsin:
eeny, meeny, miny, mo.”
Let the feast grow cold, Belshazzar,
you have been weighed
and found wanting
but not desiring.
The drip and drop
of the water clock,
the pain of the cane
on the soles of the feet
the feat of souls
is to survive,
to remain
- though a slave -
alive! Alive-
O
Call me, Jehovah,
as God is my witness,
I will not listen,
just turn my face
to the wall
and trace
the writing
on it
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Comments
steps and spells, neither
steps and spells, neither bode well. I guess what we see is what we want to be.
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