Poezja

The last 'poem' of the night
closing my eyes,
molecules come and go out of the sight.
 
I travel far with wings of stone
weighing my lifeless body down

I am without sound
But can you hear my tears fall?

Do they drum along to your beat?
Have they fashioned an image
of an underwater seat?

'let man have knowledge' you said
led to violation in a man made bed
 
But enough of the wiltering memories stuck in a skull formed head

I have another report
one that is forever taught
I beg one of rhetoric
to our platonic relation
I want to ask a question
that rings like funeral bells through out every nation:
 
Oh have you seen what they have done to your children?

they have fed them to crocodiles
they have worshipped the owls
they have transformed jewels into kings
and swords out of the dragons tongue

Oh have you seen my lord what they are creating?
 
Did you not tell your worshippers
that what they are waiting for
is in another place,
with no grace?

For have they worn out their robes,
that you allowed them to make?
For I heard that the silk worm conformed,
just to let the lamb lay with the snake.
 
Yet none of us died! Alas we never did live!
 
We are all existing below,
a secret they all know.

Shall I reiterate what they have done to heaven?
by creating numbers, they allude you to seven!
and have told me that I do not exist
with promises of protection if I do not resist.
 
For like a moon of duality within their nature,
they become creatures of the blood,
So shall I tell them my lord that the prophets were birds
and that their DNA is worms out of the mud?

Or have you already told them my lord
whilst they yearn for their mothers nip
amongst the slaughtering of their sisters
just so for emotion that they might dip

Into, into, into you.

I have no need to wait
I understand your will
And alas I write with less efficiency
as they no longer have the feathered quill

but my words to you
although solemn and blue
 
are encrusted within my seal

In which my praise is my being
as I follow your pipes
through these nightmares that I am seeing
 
But then I relapse
collapse
in knowing that
I am within them
and they are within me
and man may destroy me now
but it will only lead to their own fatality
 
For in my cushioned skin of Earth
no ego does reside

So play the game i shall
feed my fire with your dice!

Existing in a compressed moment of the immortal now,
I have become the golden cow.