D (16.03.89 / Doncaster, England)

That Which Enthused Onyx To Lament Catharsis

We have here, Bartholomew. No light could
Break his eyes, and he ne’er saw the cruel
Night displace the kissing clouds in a deep
Scarlet carnival, rising phantastic
To swallow the flittering winds. He ne’er
Saw the lilies resting silent beneath
An etchèd name, and he ne’er saw vicious
Time devour haunting vistas, callous
And inexorable. Bracing, indeed,
This man was sightless, and innovation
Often thrust him to the floor. Frail and smashed,
Imagination conjured pictures which
Were copious, and he walked among these
As king. Once upon abhorrence, he went
Stumbling under a violent storm, lost.
He came across a cabin, season-cleansed
And turning in the darkness. The trophy
Of an entrance groped its way to him and
Inside he went. The storm fled. Abated.
Died. The unlit room was afire with
A pungent odour, and he knew that souls
Had been let loose. Anguish ripped him to the
Floor as his mind betrayed him once, and he
Saw what was really there. A cosmic throng
Of filthy mysteries came rushing from
The trees, in his head plagued lunacy and
Nuances of wicked lust which grasped his
Mind with piercing claws, and gorged upon
His thought.

We have here, Bartholomew. Who lies in
A shallow tomb beneath an epitaph
Which echoed words in water. Memories
Of his were past, yet that one image which
Craved incandescence still troubled the air
Below the storm, with paralysed shrieks all throughout.

End.

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Comments (1)

This poem was a great pleasure to read, so I did several times and I could not resist looking up Onyx and am amazed at it powers, spiritually mythically, together with it's healing and energising qualities, it is one I will seek out. So it was cupid who put all the peables on our beaches? Thanks for sharing, it was a pleasure and an education all in one. Just the way I like it. Tai