Furor Poeticus: Day 4

The souvenir

Ephemeral and lasting these sons of constant attention
Remain; swimming seas of white and seeking like brave fools
The short-lived happiness that words bring.
A bloodied chest of rubies with a curse,
Screaming above their head, and I am pushed
Away, slowly, steadily; I deliberately forget
To fight as noiseless wonders fracture
To an unforgiving life; my hollowness has been stolen
In its place is a black bird.
A dreaded wall climbs high and lifts magnanimously-

On its bank a small green frog.
The calendar is moving away, tearing slowly
Across the lines; the numbers are released up and down;
Ripples settle down in silence and the moon comes
To watch a storm gently falling asleep in the morning.
Jan-jan-jan, one by one, push the sun out!
Was-now flaps its wings in a blur but white lingers,
A black sun rises in the north;
The morning blooms now-was.
Dissension and debate rage on the outside!

While a sharp illness pricks within,
Give me your promise, broken at birth,
Exploit my choices as a preference.
On the queen’s back, the marauder runs into eternity
Behind the pillars of creation;
Reason gives fast pursuit but the catch is never done.
Why must it be when the end is the end is the end?
Raindrops slither down the damp wood and our fires
Won’t burn for any bribe. The crime is only slavery…
Not you, my darling.

Blood on the world’s hands and scratches!
I’m a radioactive toy filled with evaporating purposes:
Keep my right to freedom and keep my right to the skies;
Give me the freedom to give up when I longer can;
Give me the freedom to throw my arms up;
Give me the freedom to shed a tear; to cry-
Shamelessly. Dark patches of dried blood flake away
Into the wind while the sun sets slowly beyond the mountain,
And sunflowers meet the Earth whence they came.
The leaf, is airborne, skyward, as a souvenir of the true day.

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