from the X archives...
The unforgettable encounter left me marked forever
with a stamp burnt in from which I never will recover,
like a most incurable disease in which you waste forever
without dying, in a torment that will never cease
but merely increase, unnoticeably worsening
so slowly that it's stealing on you from behind
so furtively and fatally as never to leave you in peace
from that mere knowledge that from now on you'll be dying
like a leper, slowly, inconceivably,
to never let you die completely,
and that is the the worst of all in this unending doom.
And yet, your face, that should have been so utterly familiar,
was so alien and so fascinating in its unreality
that I could but be stuck with it forever
studying it too thoroughly for its so creeping horror
worse than any monster or wild raging animal
and so appalling in its utter naked truth,
a soul unclothed and bared in all its magic
not to ever let me free again from that tremendous spell
affecting all my life, reducing me to nothing but a thrall
to fear and obstinate workoholism
for maybe more than just a lifetime sentence.
Still I do not know you, and it was my own fault
that I dared to look you in your face
under the influence of that most devastating drug of truth
effacing all reality except the basic spiritual one
so fatally revealed to me in just one catastrophic look into a mirror
to immediately kill me off to save my soul
but slain in bondage in the chains of servitude forever.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 464 times
Written on 2007-12-23 at 22:35
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Close encounters of the fourth degree...
The unforgettable encounter left me marked forever
with a stamp burnt in from which I never will recover,
like a most incurable disease in which you waste forever
without dying, in a torment that will never cease
but merely increase, unnoticeably worsening
so slowly that it's stealing on you from behind
so furtively and fatally as never to leave you in peace
from that mere knowledge that from now on you'll be dying
like a leper, slowly, inconceivably,
to never let you die completely,
and that is the the worst of all in this unending doom.
And yet, your face, that should have been so utterly familiar,
was so alien and so fascinating in its unreality
that I could but be stuck with it forever
studying it too thoroughly for its so creeping horror
worse than any monster or wild raging animal
and so appalling in its utter naked truth,
a soul unclothed and bared in all its magic
not to ever let me free again from that tremendous spell
affecting all my life, reducing me to nothing but a thrall
to fear and obstinate workoholism
for maybe more than just a lifetime sentence.
Still I do not know you, and it was my own fault
that I dared to look you in your face
under the influence of that most devastating drug of truth
effacing all reality except the basic spiritual one
so fatally revealed to me in just one catastrophic look into a mirror
to immediately kill me off to save my soul
but slain in bondage in the chains of servitude forever.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 464 times
Written on 2007-12-23 at 22:35
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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ken d williams |
