Poetry


Tuesday, November 30th, 2010

 

Approaching Autonomy
Gavin Gale                                                                        

Delusions Divine those which lead to a centre false and never free
This home, your sanctuary bent on servitude..a house of a thousand rising lunacies crumbles faster still
Complexities complicate but rarely will these components amount to much beneath the Sun’s lashing raze..

Minerva, once a purported pinnacle of prosperities…illusions that never quite illuminate…
Masks, make up, never approaching magnificence..for yours is built upon manipulatory maneuvers
And, as each footprint wears down the one to follow, autonomy approaches…

I feel your tremble, I hear you quiver..
Too long have you peddled nihilism upon this, the Nile’s sister..

These walls constructed so hastily, the prisons created, the shackles placed upon the Light…now crumbled, all removed and gone..

Ra’s ruinous ruminations encroaching..
Setian settlement? Not even a chance…

The veil wears thin Brother..

 

For all those you hold so tightly, eminent emancipation..

 

*****

 

Prince of Light
Gavin Gale                                                                                          


Vindication observed… blinded pupils 
Vindication loses wars, seemingly conquering fields of rage and sorrow..
Vindication born of confusion, Lust, illusory self-assurances…
Wars decreed with shrieks of a deafening roar, can you hear the Lions become weak?
Strategies based upon self…
Rarely hold well under the shadow of cognition, razor sharp 
I know you hear and feel the cuts..wounded pride..simply this.. 
Run your circular Marathons..run the perimeters of your darkened, miserly mind 
Run well, Run hard 
Shatter the cyclical existence.. 
Withhold what you can.. 
Play long, play-enjoy your time… 
As you run, WE see your weakness 
Hidden but always seen... 
These grains-they pile high, ohh and just as these final grains tumble and fall a thousand flights, they shatter..
As does your reign of chill, campaign of Cold.
The stones We pass so many times, the back alleys You once strangled...they now sing..fat and full..mountainous melodies..

 

*****

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