Attica! Attica!

{ A friend commissioned me to come up with a poster design for a seminar that he and his group will be officiating, as a requisite for their college -- the topic, "Anti Social Behaviour in a Socialized Society." Resulted in the two studies above. (Heck, I knew my blog's logo will come in handy someday) }
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"AREN'T WE ALL?"

Aren’t we all…
Thespians in a hallowed stage --
Mimicking life from the poetics within a tragedy --
Of a Dead poet's once uttered dreams.
Harbingers of laughter, unsolicited.
Dancing to celestial beats without end
Until that last day when we lie
Parallel with the horizon.
…?

Aren’t we all…
Preachers in our own cathedrals,
Adamantly advocating faith -- blinded
From eyes, to mouth, from ears, to hands.
Sanctified or damned: we deny making a choice -
‘Til the eleventh hour when we wash
Our bloodied fists with our tears.
…?

Aren’t we all…
Minstrels of a broken tune --
Philosophers ignorant of answers
Already in front of us.
Serenading acoustic rhetorics
(Fanatical idolatry of bent exclamations).
Chanting to the metronome
Of monotonous heartbeats.
...?

Aren’t we all…
Fragments of our frailties --
Debris of a whole that once was us.
Empty as emptiness could ever be.
Our soul’s mere ornaments like carvings ,
Bought and sold by travelling merchants.
...?

Aren’t we all…
Organized grifters, veiled syndicates --
Feeding on spoon-fed lies
By Neanderthals tracing inscriptions
On damp cave walls.
Placing our own sense on enigmatic scrolls
Whose meaning even to ourselves
A question mark.
...?

Aren’t we all…
Cherubims waiting hand and foot
At porcelain gods.
Waiting for effigies to bleed crimson
Or ‘til we realize the blankness
In the meaning we all search for.
...That liquid hope offered
By ivory monuments --
Suck dry our conviction’s succulence.
...?

Aren’t we all --
Alike!
...Or are you simply, indifferent?

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{ As a humble gift, for you -- whose name is synonymous to "LOVE...LOATHE" and everything unsaid -- in between. CLICK HERE!

Post Halloween Blues

The Seraphim and His Succubus

Act I

There was a haunting silence looming from where they laid --
from where old rendezvous congregate their familiar serenade.
Beneath the eastern sky, he looks westward with resolute awe --
therein the questions, she for purposes of conclusion draws:

She asks upon him, “My Dearest Sir, do tell when...?”
He without reservation, utters words --
like from thoughts of past, he penned;

“O Maiden, for the love of me, consider this modest premise:
Let these verses, your subtle ears, they solemnly kiss:
It shall be the day when music loses… its poetry --
And only bitterness is heard betwixt notes of symphonies .
It shall be the day when the vast horizon loses…its art --
And its beauty thereupon burdens no more a once buoyant heart.

It shall be the day when you, My Rose --
I’d treasure only… for your thorns,
Thence depluming the petals of pledges,
once blindly, from upon which miracles—
its birth, have faithfully been sworn.

It shall be the day when I’ve bled my last grief
For the unfettered thigmonasty –
I once relished upons’t you Milady,
For You, of whom, is My opiate leaf."

{ Their eyes then departed each others entwine;
…‘twas a pause, nay a silence, infinite in its end –
An eternal stasis in the autumn of tear descend,
hence once saccharine, now, became mere bitter wine.}

(end scene)

Act II

…There was an unsettling stillness from where they laid --
from where their innate singularities proposed alignment.
By the unison of clockwork metronome, their hearts swayed;
Therein the questions, for finality, she solicited a tad more,
“Beloved Sir ‘tis the last query then nevermore
Why, amidst all…Why…? -- thine answer now I implore."

The gaze of him from within the reflection of her eyes
mirrored the words his soul long kept hids’t;

“O My Amour, ‘tis like asking breath – Why air?
‘Tis like asking Sin – O Foul design! Art thou forbidden?
‘Tis like asking Abyss – Oblivion, O, Art thou Endless?
‘Tis like asking Death – Angel ,’Tis you… God? "

{ Unmask if you will, My Muse, the bent exclamations --
The questions cardinal in number
( equal to the sum of one and one).
Rhetorics that always remained unasked…unequated
...UNDERSTATED!
For it is, as it is, without eloquent reason --
An answer... (The Answer!)
from which humble lips, dare I say, not behold. }


--epilogue--

...Answers unfolded in the twilight of the night,
when Seraphim and Succubus --
In their Divine Matrimony spawn Cambion.

Inferno… Purgatorio… Paradiso…
You… You… You…
Paradiso...Purgatorio..Inferno..
Me...Me…Me…

(end scene)
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Exeunt Playwrights of this poetry’s narration:
Seraphim: He
Succubus: Her memory
Cambion: Still utterly Unknown?
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--the end--

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