inspired by Shelley methinks
At a 'desk' in an 'office'
In a 'filing cabinet' in a 'file'
On some 'paper' in 'ink'
Multiple marks are regular liars,
In narrow rows and columns I sink,
They are diseased.
They know not the fireside blood of the evening sun
Nor the raw fresh victory of hillside bracken
They never share the spectacular insanity of antique stone
Breathing each evening in with patient savor, his
Old moss matted lungs gladly corroding
And staring out from the pinnacle to the ocean
Past holy forests shafted with gold amongst the pine
And vast grass plains cut by erratic tendrils, female, flowing.
And numb numeral tablets which prove our division
Just fail to touch, impress or embrace,
In this place, our glittering country, I stand amazed,
Gaze through softer eyes with such intensity, religiosity, an ecstasy of
Rage. Tear open this cloned breast with wailing limbs
And let me go to the world! Through windswept flesh
I feel it all and blinking taste the soaring spinning being
Straining 'gainst my manufacture erupting whistling blood
Out shattered pores exploding corpse where clouds converge
On cut knees my soul leaves face up to pelting rain screaming
Sucking soaking air right into pulsing lungs
With all the thunder and beauty in waves collapsing to
Beautiful mud, this wet earthen face turned upwards to
distant everywhere, or is it nowhere, a death which human beings feel to live.
Poetry by DanBennett
Read 440 times
Written on 2009-07-04 at 22:15
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Romantac
At a 'desk' in an 'office'
In a 'filing cabinet' in a 'file'
On some 'paper' in 'ink'
Multiple marks are regular liars,
In narrow rows and columns I sink,
They are diseased.
They know not the fireside blood of the evening sun
Nor the raw fresh victory of hillside bracken
They never share the spectacular insanity of antique stone
Breathing each evening in with patient savor, his
Old moss matted lungs gladly corroding
And staring out from the pinnacle to the ocean
Past holy forests shafted with gold amongst the pine
And vast grass plains cut by erratic tendrils, female, flowing.
And numb numeral tablets which prove our division
Just fail to touch, impress or embrace,
In this place, our glittering country, I stand amazed,
Gaze through softer eyes with such intensity, religiosity, an ecstasy of
Rage. Tear open this cloned breast with wailing limbs
And let me go to the world! Through windswept flesh
I feel it all and blinking taste the soaring spinning being
Straining 'gainst my manufacture erupting whistling blood
Out shattered pores exploding corpse where clouds converge
On cut knees my soul leaves face up to pelting rain screaming
Sucking soaking air right into pulsing lungs
With all the thunder and beauty in waves collapsing to
Beautiful mud, this wet earthen face turned upwards to
distant everywhere, or is it nowhere, a death which human beings feel to live.
Poetry by DanBennett
Read 440 times
Written on 2009-07-04 at 22:15
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text| Texts |
 by DanBennett Latest textsRomantacI'm On a BOAT To Damaged Female #19 You need 'em |
Increase font
Decrease