The Poet ©

Madness smolders about his eyes as he reads the

telling of his demons.

How his guardian, the warrior beast, rages against

an army of Dante-ian lost souls –

blood-black angels of death.

Caught within this labyrinth of words –

of fear –

of dark understanding,

he rests exhausted on his haunches like

an obsidian cat gathering his strength –

licking his wounds.

Obsession flashes about his eyes as he reads

the telling of his passions.

How his soul, the master within, struggles

against the man risen from ashes and

stone-thrown sand.

Flesh-brown loins of mankind

ensnared within this web of words –

of desire –

of carnal recollection.

He hovers above the page like a

visceral ghost grasping without touch,

moaning without sound.

Sadness slow-drips about his eyes as he

reads the telling of his visions.

How his spirit, the moonlit shadow,

weaves tapestries from thread-bare lives

spun from barren wombs and

backstreet bars.

Bone-white remains of life

sealed within this crypt of words –

of despair –

of sacrosanct reflection.

He draws inward about his being like a

twilight phoenix -

resisting no longer,

beseeching the silence.