literature

Life Cycle

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winter-songs's avatar
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Literature Text

I. Truthseers

"Mortality" is a word
          spoken soft in onerous rooms
          over lips thick with chapstick
          to smother
                    our truth.

Over a road twenty feet
          deep a child soars
          on creaking rusted flowers
          and laughs
                    at us.

They know
          those little grinners
          as they spin plates on noses,
          toes, and ears.

They know
          our great lie
          that we've masked in powder,
          foundation, and rouge.

"Mortality" is a word
          we've made dirty.

Yet it is all we have
          for truth.


II. Danse Macabre

Camille Saint-Saëns knew what
          he was talking about.
                    Or playing</u> about.
          I don't think he spoke much.
                    Zig zig, zig zig.

A violin shrieks across
          the autumn night.
                    Or is it winter?
          Chill cakes the window.
                    Crackle, crackle.

From ashy dust he rises.
          And plays a single note.
An instrument of bones.
          And strings of muscle sinew.

Among croaking trees they spin.
          And leap in ghastly air.
Stone-heavy feet.
          And branches for arms.

Death is playing for you.
          Won't you listen?

Life is screaming for you.
          Won't you listen?


III. End Days

Embers strive to glow
                    in this cold
                    this chill
          pale, unable to warm.

Screeches easy to rise
                    in this day
                    this light
          foretelling, to an awful end.

A couple embraces
          amongst a tragedy.
          Twisting, turning, olive steel.
                    And the people stare
                    leer, hungry for blood on the pavement.

Three blocks away
          a crooked cross
          is borne down Main Street.
                    Thrown in and sinks
                    beneath muddied green.

Things are shifting
          now confess to what is.

Confront the truth of ultimatum
          and live in ceasement of fear.
I don't have much to say about this.

A week or so ago I was driving home when I drove by an accident in which an SUV (guess what color it is and where in the poem I mention it) had flipped over, and an enormous crowd had gathered. I'm assuming that there was more than just the flipped SUV with a crowd of that size, so there were probably some injuries.

I got the first stanza in my head as a result, but when I tried to write it, I got what sounded like three different poems - the first stanzas of the first two sections and the first two stanzas of the last section. But I couldn't quite make them seperate, so I tied them together in a multi-sectioned poem dealing with HEAVY subjects. Y'know, like death.

Muh.

Make of it what you will, I'm too tired to say much else right now.

Life Cycle copyright Megan Schmidt ( :iconwinter-songs: ) 2009
Comments9
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sumarlegur's avatar
Part 1 was lovely. I enjoyed it the most.