WAILS OF THE WRAECCA.

PART III: THE WORLD

Berserk from vertigo

My mind

Torn by images

Of years gone

As present and

Painful as ever

*

I'm mumbling again

I dare not speak out loud

While a shadow darkens

A bar of light

Shining under the door

*

The mendacious cultivate your misery

And benefit from it--

The councils of men--corrupt with complicity--

Feed off your grief

And their pious justifications

Barbeque the earth

This is the World--

All filthy ideals at peak action

Before what cataclysmic cleansing?

What purging in dumb "Finally It Is Truly Upon Us" awe

As eyes over chewing mouths lift--blank--gone slack--?

*

Fuck earthly authority

In every shape and form--

Fuck the insane imperatives

And don't you EVER conform

*

Advent season

Will pass like a wind

Over my ruins

Work of human hands

Ringing novena bells

Through this neighborhood

*

When night closed on me

Like a coffin lid

I was in bug-eyed panic

For you over a pay phone

As you hung up--

When I was defeated in my own mind

Suffering at the inanity of drones

And called for some rope of kindness

You turned your back--

When mad midnights struck

As I gazed out of my vibrating zombie

Contemplating my hells and needing a word of grace

You held your tongue--

When you yourself receive these ordeals

In some future state and I hear a whistling

In my ear and shrug it off

Then you will know--what--why--

*

What patience

When right goes wrong

What tolerance

When everything's wild

What forgiveness

When consequence crushes intent

What acceptance

When no grace stills this repetition

*

The oppressed do their worst

Blaming others than themselves

For their misery

The more cunning tyrannize the slow weaker ones

Who burst in rage past acceptance--

The steady need met in this mutual murdering--

In those swinging scales this dynamic

Manipulates this unity of being--as unrelenting as the god

Who upholds them all in their pains

*

For protecting whores

And giving them advantage

In every hand of a deck permanently stacked

Against the lonely and beaten

You--who love us

Soft feminine--pliant beneath the God's rampant maleness--

Indeed teach--

The wicked prosper

That they may be

Instruments of vengeance

*

To wait in patience

Before the throne

Without stalling out

When what you've long awaited

Past--is gone--

But then what fortunate turn empowering--

Balm for hurt useless for hurt--

Is disqualified from unmastered

Fuming griefs

Steady as the throne

Patience runs down before--

*

How do I get

The depth of a cry--

Sad harness

Harassing the feeble back

Drawing a rattle at drop down--

Is my life this? This depth of cry?

This laying down of the burden?

[End of PART III.]

Content (c) 2008-2010 Philip Milito.