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Poetry 2008

 
All poems © copyright Arion Wyckman

Placenta                                                 

Bear within
What is bare without,
A naked truth
Of shallow proofs,
Of love, of loss,
Of a world that spins
To a crooked groove -
Unveiling a harsh one,
Bearable barely,
A naked truth
For all of our naked Selves
To unfurl,
For us to undress our shells
Of the shallow proofs,
Of loss but not love,
And not forget to soothe:
A blanket suit'
Now new
For you
The naked truth.
 
 

                                                                                                                            ENVELOP 

 

I let my eyes graze in a subtle gaze,

The inclinations of your skin

Deep down under within,

To the brim of what my heart can take in:

 

Your gentle curling around my centre,

Source of your yearning

As an answer to my craving:

For my senses to drown still inside of you.

 

I ask of this moment not to perish,

Blemish – just to cherish,

Let my advance be willingly

Through the space where you exist,

 

Where I let my fingers graze

As if tracking the contours of fate:

The gravity of soul that remains in my arms,

Your heart drawn inside of me.

 A QUAKY TRIP ON BADASS MUSHROOMS, OR HOW TO CONQUER DARK WITH THE LIGHT STILL ON AND BLINKING

 

I will burn in flames for you,

Singe myself, be fleshed

Until the ash and chafing of my bones,

The leather peels of my skin,

Are but dirt and dust on a scorching floor of hell.

 

I will cut a thousand scars for you,

Mark myself, be Kain

Until enough blood is shed for all

The atrocities I take name for –

I know them all, be sure to know, in this heart of mine worn well.

 

I will drink the foulest of venoms for you,

Sword myself, from the inside, out

Until there is nothing but puddles:

A burial ground for all my sin and gall;

Inability to mean anything more rewarding

Than a collision of crimson and absinthe –

Bloody, surreal, painful, forgotten hopefully some day soon.

 

I will then still drown a violent death for you,

Revile myself, quake in cold

Until the pinnacles of crystals old

Pierce my every cell and bleed my whore;

DNA, chaos in code, into a plunging steep abyss.

 

I will allow agony for all of you;

For the I that I once knew – perhaps was meant to be,

But the weather calls on me; erosion.

I wither, because I’ve failed to protect any of you

Even from the slightest hit – the vast one of my very own hand.

 

I will, therefore,

accept a million times

all of my cruel demise for you –

 

And still it won’t absolve me of my haunting

You.

 

I will be the hunted,

In seclusion,

In solitude.

 

In death,

For all of you.