by Drew Gold   Dec 31, 2007

A brooding New York skyscraping weather
meets a sunny Californian blue wave
smack dead in a bronzed Missouri, awash
in storm and gale. The loveless provide
home for disease to rail upon, soft,
so soft the hand slipping out of dress.
Atrophy spreads veiny through limbs,
thunder crackles behind closed eyes.
The neurotic plays for a copy of Mother's
milk, using Absent father to bridge
the space between murder and satisfaction.
Paupers in the grave clutching a brown
paperbag filled with green and red roses.
The mother is waiting for us at
the center of our galaxy, Earth spinning
in father Sky's shoes. You must leave
these behind, Daughter of quixotica,
disparate being; housing the ship.
Nursing crop circles as black wood floats
the Grim reaper scowls with sickle.
A pause hushes Houston. We're momentary
lost. the gargantuan Kraken wraps
the entirety of earth and it's heart beat
--beneath that cold ocean--sends shockwaves
and Hitler is powerless. Nietzsche floats
soundless and alone on a fiery barge, barred
dismembered and coupled with speckly specters.
Goethe is telling lies again. President Bush
stuffs dollar bills into the plates
eating anti-anxiety medicine before addressing
us; eyes still shifty and slitted,
caging the mad monkey. The spirit of our time
is nauseous with this color and ready
to vomit up the placenta of Anthropos.
There is no room for sentiment.
Ambition is painstaking and sleep is numbered.
Our breath carries these codes,
bubbles and ZzZ's, singing to you. What to do
when techgnosis builds a prosthetic hell
and Adam's mistake is still burning you--
even with Jesus hanging there, splayed
like a piece of modern art, or furniture.
What to do when your salvation lies under-
neath the froth and waves, when apple cider
is all a robot could wish for?
And the human beings without name
roam this gray biosphere, looking
for spots to break through, thinking in
blood-stains. And we shuffle the lines,
throngs of sapient beings above us
barely, hooded, but never touching.
Not a sign of amusement. Omniscient eyes.
Beyond the sick waters of poetry, locked
in the dust of ancient affairs, waiting
for the eventual breakdown, collapse;
stalking motionless with quantum patience.
The ones beyond Zero, ... references
that nursed Soma into our veins. And all
the mythologies swarming this meeting point.
And people in color yearning for knowledge,
and dying, pixel by pixel, into sepia news-
print. Fading like miracles into unconscious
hearts, with all those dead-stricken eyes.
And we've lived long enough to grasp decay,
so long that we're something else, entirely
than when this began. Everytime. Dec. 31, 2007


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Latest Comments

  • 15 years ago

    by NyellMoonlight

    I'm speechless... I really can't express how much I like this piece. This is the best poem in the life section I read in a while... so deep and endlessly complex. I like everything about this piece. Your wording is great and whole piece is excellently written. I admire whole idea for this poem, absolutely original and powerful. It kept my attention from the beginning to the end, creating amazingly vivid images in the mind. You have some truly excellent and intriguing descriptions and thoughts here.
    I can't chose my favorite part because I would have to copy/paste the whole poem here...
    It's truly hard to express how mind-blowing and effective this is. I am honestly impressed.
    Brilliant, endlessly brilliant poem!

    Keep writing!
    5/5 from me, but you deserve much more :)