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A contemporary work by the noted poet and permanent spirit Elizabeth Jill)

There Are No Words. None. (An ejill poem)

There are no words. None.

"I want to die." came the thought.
Merely a thought. A hefty thought, howso.
"But there are rivers to cross."

I sink below surface intuition
and open my mouth to drink from waters of oblivion.

Spaces inside me are suddenly blissfully filled with nothing.
I forget what I am running from.
Waves of muteness invite me into hypnosis -
though no wave is chemical enough to keep me.

I awake upon bank after bank of mythology
where slashes of genius are carved into the rocks of the underworld
mimicking a prison of longevity that threatens anyone who travels this far,
this very brief far.

Having up and landed where
all wounds of all people
are chronicled by degree -
I am kept alive to note and write the plight of humanity.

There are no words. None.

It is here where phlegms of hell
choke the anger inside of me.
I am a mere spit of a soul by now
crippling along on one crutch of hope
which changes its loyalties hither thither.

So be it, I gather a storm from every
self-respecting Cumulonimbus,
I say grace, say thanks,
yet still feel unmelted, unmovable,
frozen with syllable-less words.

I have emerged on the wrong side of the treks where these words on my tongue
weigh nothing
because I have not stretched my thoughts far enough.

So here I spit them out, bury them in the
grime of lack-of-faith
and start over.
*

Poetry by Chaucer Whethers