An Angels questioning lament

Cherry

By alphadog1

Mon, 21 Jul 2014
  • 2043 reads
7 comments
 

 

 

Humans  are  not clever
Reaping what they sow not
Sowing what they reap not
Flowing in forever fractal circles
That are blown in dissipated threads
Which so solemnly  tread
As they like a hot virus oil slick
So viscously  viscous  spread in utero.

They look to God for their goodness
then blame Lucifer for their weakness
but deny lie and sneakily spy
to justify their so slippery morals.
Oh, such glaze from within their animal eyes
such flow in their flow from their vocal pride
such glory in their human created copper sky
Such Nye in their porous limited time.

Yet such joy in their spirit
Such laughter in their mad sanity
And when the shades of adversity fall
How sweet to hear them sigh as they try
To climb high into the crystal night
For they fight in plight
And never miss
A chance to claim a secret stolen kiss
In tears from spares
so sporadic and rare
they throw their cares
In such soft whispered dares
tell us please? Does the air feel rare?

With careless flairs that  stoop  
for fools in pools of despair
They  slap their faces bloody
and the meat of their round  buttocks rare red
In the cross beams  we see them  scram
As the gathering rats  sell them dreams in drams
that become feotid corpses 
whom burst out with laughing maggots
That writhe in thyme  to become a  sacred  dine 
for the invented divine .

And  as the blood  crusts  into scabs
That blends  with mud which slowly  babbles as it bubbles
 and then rises  in clots that cause the bends
We note Jesus  riding in the clouds  who goes blindly staring down
To then finally dissipate  into puffs of daft smoke
Thrown out in such soft scented tokes
that are then lost to a soulless steel sky.
This is the Nub: tell us are our humans divine?
Or just a chaotic theanthropic fuck up?
Brought here as a small seed
and then to life by a small butterfly’s soft parting  lips
that also came to life bathing in the soft evening sun.
we ask this as we are curious
to what you know.

© adh2014 

Certificate 18
Poem
Miscellaneous

Comments

Submitted by scratch on

A very interesting take on the human condition and asks the One Great Question for which there is no answer unless in blind belief or in the dogma of denial and rejection.  Spirituality or base humanism? You've got a huge amount going on in this one AD1, the delightful and clever word play makes it stick.  I think.

 

Submitted by alphadog1 on

 thank you very much dear Scratch, its doesnt have to stick. But I am glad that you liked the word play.  This peice is part of the lost and found within my E-notebook. Lost in that I tried to copy it over into another document and lost the original version, which was a little better than this one. found as half of it somehow was saved into the memeoy of the phone, so I then typed a hard copy and posted it in case it decided to be lost again.wink

 

Submitted by scratch on

Horrid when something gets lost like that.  No matter the quality of the replacement the re-written one never s feels as good somehow.  I think this has a great arc to it.  It's one to be justifiably proud of.  It took me a few reads which is often a good sign.  Well done!

 

Submitted by alphadog1 on

Yeah,  I have decided to carry a proper pen and pencil notebook now. and I am glad you liked it. 
Very gtareful for the copmment. If you have any new poems or stories for me to look at send me a link to it and I will reply.  Also I am on facebook under my real name andrew hunt I am in Exeter. 

 

Submitted by scratch on

Ok Andrew.  That's good.  I feel like I haven't got a single poem left in me to be honest, hopefully I'll get out of the hole that I'm in soon.  If I do I'll let you know!

 

Submitted by alphadog1 on

I know how that feels, its a messey place  to be in. the frustration and the sheer anger added to the self doubt to combat this  I have been reading a lot more, Jack Kerouac is good to fuel the fire of posey, Dharma bums  is a treat  to read and as for vivid descrption, Joyce's  Ulysees.  
I have to admit I was put of by these writers simply because of people  thinking i'm some sort of intellectual wanna be hanging to the art scene, but they are vital to my growth as a writer: the vivid detail, the use of language that I have picked up and just by simply reading them, has allowed into my vocabularly a whole new  codex and it  is utterly amazing. 
Writers are born in the chaos of books. some of which the reader hardly understands, but knows that in some small dark part  of their soul there is an ephiphany -of sorts-  going on.
  This poem (...) hoenstly came out of a session I had  after a dry session in the sun with a bottle of wine. I know King says that getting out of ones head is not really what a writer needs to do to write well. I know that, but  at the same time fear holds me back. This is a real fear of pen on paper, of getting it done of expecting a standard; getting past that fear is a real issue so  sometimes getting stoned-for me- is vital.  I don't  advoacte it for everyone. 
Thanks again personally,  I really like  your own work. and if you have a book available in printed form I would buy it.  (if -of course- I had any money which I don't.)  keep scratching dear friend 
ad1
 

 

Submitted by scratch on

Nice one.

Good honest advice is worth cherishing.  I'll cherish this.