Sunday, January 25, 2009

The Prisoner


Here at the belated funeral
Of your overrated youth
Where a million mourners lean
Ever closer to the edge
Laced they leave their flowers
And obituaries untrue
And the stars collide chaotic
Above the writhing hedge

This hole agape in blue landscape
Lies fecund and yet uncovered
Encircled now by estranged friends
And lost lacklustre lovers
You see them now as crystal clear
As from your teenage perch
A tame time traveller stranded –
Left here in the lurch

From the withered roses strewn
Across the golden room
Barefoot ambush thorns await
On broken stems to bloom
Eros and Psyche there raising heat
Whipped up a sensuous storm
Combined, conjoined, divided
Took on a different form

You left your empty baggage
at the point where pavements end
The luggage tags offered up your life
To destiny bedevilled
And walking on you trusted fate
The bullet-holes to mend
And the grooved soles of your stolen shoes
Were by association levelled

Onward to where the fountains
Tread water in the corner of your eye
While compensating clouds obscured
That familiar alien sky
To the echoed halls where pictures
Perfectly framed and hung
Are bathed in solid amber light
From a distant prodigal sun

And now the looming shadows mock
Your future they belittle
And laughing smear your twisted past
With blood and rust and spittle
This ghost ship’s decking danger creaks
And insects black leg crawl
Across your eyes and silenced heart
That teeters yet to fall

For you are the frightened prisoner
Behind panes of frosted glass
Faithful but forever shackled
By the chains of seasons past
So you watch this waning world rerun
A trillion raw refrains
And feel the rain fall cold upon
Your smouldering remains

9 comments:

Candie said...

There are poetry that are leaving us speechless,nicely speechless,here's one of them,as my english isn't that rich to comment on those sublime words,I'd rather shut up.Or else I couldn't say enough or could say too much.

Yodood said...

such prisons our compliance makes when fresh visions threaten habitual reliance on hearsay authority's reward for not mentioning the bars

Anonymous said...

Thoughtful words.

CJ xx

Unknown said...

You just do imagery so stunningly and evocatively well!

Garth said...

Thanks all - this one took ages to complete and I'm very happy with it.

Laura Tattoo said...

brilliant, with references to antiquity interlaced with postmodern images and rants and ridicule. i can see why this one took time, with its exact end rhymes yet easy flowing structure. you know i love your language, but more than that, you make me question every assumption i have about what it means to be human in the postmodern din of debased consciousness! is this where self-consciousness leads us? god forbid! i'm still burning on the pyre of my own spontaneous combustion. oh mon dieu, je brûle! lol... i'll just start where i begin; brilliant.

Garth said...

Laura: thank you! I believe we should always question what it means to be human - indeed we should question everything.

Anonymous said...

I should want this to be read at my wake( if I desire so to have one ). Then, from another plane, could I view those who still opt to show up at the funeral.

Garth said...

Be my guest - I probably won't be yours - at your wake I mean ;-)

Bookshop

Buy this book on Lulu. Kindle Version
Kindle Version
© Garth Erickson. Powered by Blogger.

Followers

Page Ranking Tool
Creative Commons License