I started writing this (the first two verses only) March 1st and 2nd of 2012, and I returned to it t

I started writing this (the first two verses only) March 1st and 2nd of 2012, and I returned to it this and completely rewrote it last August.  I’ve made changes still up until today.  The poem, or set, comes in thee parts.  You might even call it 12 different poems smashed into one.  Depending on the day I’ve either felt intimately connected to it, or hated every word of it.  Also, yes, those are 13-syllable lines.  Look forward to another part tomorrow! Keep Reading for full text.BURNING SCALP ~ HELL ~I. AstygmataHer Immaculate drips tears of blood from eyes of stone,Rage cascades down to the unsuspecting shore below.To appease with sacrifice they cut apart themselves,To Above they plea for peace, composure, and for health.In stakes greater than one that rest beneath their union,Into a jade cup dips their worth and clips their passion,And so candle fire consumes it if only this night.II. SupposeWe, the dancers of the ring run round an obelisk.Hum, we beg the rain descend, with question to a diskOf open sky, we never sweat nor bleed unfounded.We jump nonstop and pull our roots apart when groundedTrunks pucker, our branches, trembling, firmly hold the clouds,But the vacant dust returns no weight, no warm brush vowed.Where’s our golden cherub, we would search if we could fly.III. CongenesisGod has summoned me depart still waters of never.Every careless second, sight and sound dissolves my girth.The laughter of a child a switchblade to my raw neck,A clapping gleeful palm does twist and wrench my stomach,Racing lungs and blurring sight, the blood drains from my bonesAs my figure rusts to scrap, a stench alike your own.I’ve broken their body, shed their blood: I was made life.Which thought slips first: the time well marked,Or played, the well-imagined part?I beg you this with labored heart. -- source link

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