The bowel of the earth deepens with
Saturated blessings of the soil, and
Down, down, the forces burrow in its
Caverns —creviced
Between day and night, I cannot decipher,
Yet it is the mind of the night, the strength of the
Arcane values, where the eyes, though
Blind, see through the darkest chasm
......
My heart no longer knows a feel
My soul bemoans our abominable deal.
I'd always thought you were different
Till the day I knew you weren't heaven's sent.
You are like a bin-bag, super fetid;
A cocotte,reeking of ill-habit.
Have you no shame, you mal-brained fellow?
I wish I had, all this while, been all solo.
......
Mother of stars,
friend of the moon,
it is often quiet but for its own heartbeatꓽ
the rhythmic sentence pronounced
in one benign-hammering syllable,
which pounds away hostile darkness
laid bare by the wakeful heavens
whose ears listen to tales from
old folks passed on to a glowing age,
and proverbs that leave one and all in awe.
......
I
The loud, cruel laughter of dirge
besieges us so greatly in the face of
wanton humiliation.
It comes mightily, crashing our aged
city walls, unearthing the foundations of
churches,
tolling bells in pulsated grief . . .
......
The prospects of life bloom at noon
When the sun shines like the eyes of a
Grieving monster, whose stinging tears sparkle with
The lustre of frying oil.
With them come man, woman, cattle
And beast —all full of rustic life,
Smiling with the benevolence of an
Ancient community still intact with the good spirits
Of the past.
It’s roasting time.
......
The prospects of life bloom at noon
When the sun shines like the eyes of a
Grieving monster, whose stinging tears sparkle with
The lustre of frying oil.
With them come man, woman, cattle
And beast —all full of rustic life,
Smiling with the benevolence of an
Ancient community still intact with the good spirits
Of the past.
It’s roasting time.
......
I
The loud, cruel laughter of dirge
besieges us so greatly in the face of
wanton humiliation.
It comes mightily, crashing our aged
city walls, unearthing the foundations of
churches,
tolling bells in pulsated grief . . .
......
Mother of stars,
friend of the moon,
it is often quiet but for its own heartbeatꓽ
the rhythmic sentence pronounced
in one benign-hammering syllable,
which pounds away hostile darkness
laid bare by the wakeful heavens
whose ears listen to tales from
old folks passed on to a glowing age,
and proverbs that leave one and all in awe.
......
Like the comet —far gone —
they return,
accompanied by wavelengths of torture
and secreted grief;
on their tired shoulders
weak and pale faces of drums, slung
with the sombreness of traded pride,
and, rested, their countenances dimly poor;
and also pale among them.
the fast-setting sun.
......
The bowel of the earth deepens with
Saturated blessings of the soil, and
Down, down, the forces burrow in its
Caverns —creviced
Between day and night, I cannot decipher,
Yet it is the mind of the night, the strength of the
Arcane values, where the eyes, though
Blind, see through the darkest chasm
......