Wednesday, August 24, 2016

Degenerate King of the Desert

They move like fidgety mannequins
Under the pale sunrise
That came upon Suddenly
dancing smoke clouds in the distance
shaded into the sky,
the never-ending desert
creepily quiet
with the ability to juxtapose
the macro and micro
in the same instant.  
Of feathers and fabric
I feel you through my being
you call me here before the
depths and the darkness
the light and the beauty
and all of the spaces between
to what do I owe this occasion?
I did it entirely of myself—
Because you made me this way.
Haughty and powerful
An unhallowed stamina captured
Envisioned through obscurity
We move though the vapor
This danse macabre
Wrought in fervor and mayhem.

like the volume being turned up
the sky fades in gradients
holding a magnificent pink  
that Exposes our human forms
In our worn frames
Degenerate and regal
With all of the privilege that comes with it
king of the underworld
Framed in the writhing sisters of fate
To the sound of mortal whispers
Their visages looking delicious—
until you see their ancient faces
eyes as vast as the wreckage of man
infinite in ephemerality
ancient in persistence
combatant and competitor
The game and the player
Complete, within this kingdom
the last raptor of the desert
Lekking without equal
Bathed in filth & prowess
God of a realm reduced to memory  

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