Art of Suffering

by hiraeth   Oct 30, 2016


10/30/2016

and we, the usurped, embalmed in repose,
breathing rose-water and slurried carnations,
learn the art of distilling truths from
salt-rose bouquets, illuminated stained-glass,
and honey'd milk.

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lament: (1) unconditionally perpetual
lament: (2) grief as the midnight sun

(1)

a vortex of charcoal matter
that blossomed in our lungs,
the day (y/our)
mayflowers withered.

(2)

the arctic breeds contempt in summer air,
and we, the moon-flowers & night-roses
become refugees of warmth,
aimless wanderers seeking sustenance
till we can cross-pollinate
our nectars.

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the machinations of muse
is betrothed foremost to
beauty, and second to
anguish;

kaleidoscopically vibrant verses
come to rest on your
clavicle & sternum

(an intangible reminder of how winter
was a metaphor for your idiosyncrasies).

[ "it is odd that you document the inane musings
birthed from the gift of consciousness, when you,
yourself wrote 'in the greater schematic of things -
everything is temporary; your absence becomes
but mere seconds...it would all be temporary,
and that is catharsis to me'.

is it really cathartic?"

...."what is the point of thought, if you cannot control the result?" ]

... and we, the usurped, embalmed in repose,
breathing rose-water and slurried carnations,
learn the art of distilling truths from
salt-rose bouquets, illuminated stained-glass,
and honey'd milk.

7


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Latest Comments

  • 11 months ago

    by Mayday

    Sometimes, I just don't have words...
    This is Excellent, fam- as always ^_^

    5/5

  • 11 months ago

    by ether

    Dude this was beautiful but one thing ruined it for me (as an Australian) - our slang word for wh-re/sl-t/whatever is "slurry" which made me laugh a little thinking about how ridiculous or slang words are.

    I appreciate multiple things about this, so much so I need to make a list as I don't have enough time to deconstruct this properly before the party tonight. So, I love:
    that this started with "and", the unconventional structure, the return of "y/our", honey-d milk, moon-flowers, and the repetition at the end was so perfectly constructed... I cannot fault this anywhere (except for "slurried" but that's an Aussie thing).

    In this current moment I'm about to dress up as a moon-flower child for the halloween party. I always look forward to reading your work. Thank you for sharing. You're too darn clever... this piece puts most to shame.

  • 11 months ago

    by Em

    Mark your poetry is always refreshing to read, makes us left wanting more or hearts aching. I was going to take each section but its too beautiful and sincere to do that...

    it is odd that you document the inane musings
    birthed from the gift of consciousness, when you,
    yourself wrote 'in the greater schematic of things -
    everything is temporary; your absence becomes
    but mere seconds...it would all be temporary,
    and that is catharsis to me'.
    ^^
    My favourite part.
    Em

  • 11 months ago

    by Hellon

    This sounded to me like a prelude to something that will follow. Perhaps you are trying to keep the reader waiting and guessing if you will be continuing on with something else?

    Very interesting layout and some captivating word usage!

  • 11 months ago

    by Ben Pickard

    Beautifully written, Mark.