Friday, July 12, 2013

From My Mouth

From my mouth, an egg.
From the egg, a monster, 
wearing a wet, sticky veil.

Above: the sun, stupid, cancerous.
Below: everything.
Below: my monster, full of a ravenous emptiness.

Let there be summer, never-endingly.
Let there be my monster,
consuming one, and one, and one.

Let there be lawyers and elected officials.
Let there be a rot-bog of stench and glory.
Let my monster be Lord of it.

Let the language of my monster's groans ascend,
come deluge, come Judgement.
Let my monster's instant of joy be cemented.

From my mouth, a new history.
From this history, another monster,
dwarfing the first one, and less merciful.


LaTonya Baldwin said...

Can I join the band. I'm sucker for a good rant.

hedgewitch said...

Very Cranish, though I think quite pricey and not a knock-off. You make me think not just of a seasonal malaise, or a natural phase of the planet's cycle, but of something distorted and wrong that consumes itself as well as everything around it, something that is inner, but also exterior and apart from the speaker who has birthed it in such an unnatural fashion. Eerie and uneasy read. (Tags are perfect.)

Sioux said...

"a rot-bog of stench and glory" is quite a phrase, and the last three words carry quite a wallop as well.

grapeling said...

Above: the sun, stupid, cancerous.

Ah, summer. Also, winter. All. So.

Mama Zen said...

Oh, this is cool!

Cloudia said...

You build brick by brick solidly.
But your bricks are golden, and some sapphire, some tungsten.

Glad I know you. Your fan,


Cloudia said...

Oh. They are singing bricks.
They sing to me

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Wowzers. This packs a wallop indeed.

Poet Laundry said...

Yikes! Intense. You exhibit such poetic versatility.

Stacey said...

This is perfect in every way.

Other Mary said...

Oh, now that's an interesting take on the rant. Love your twist.