Frozen Assailant on the Yellow River (feat. jube jube)

Posted by Erik Moshe on Monday, February 4, 2013 Under: Poetry

It oogles me…

How the mast of a city gunnard
can be turned into the focal point of a winterscape
How assassins of Persia use the tundra
as stepping stones, as jagged urinals
Sacharrine fluids dripping from golden trumpets
One man to rectify
The bastardous garrisons and the toxic canteens
It broods in me…

Despite the lack of perspiration and energy
Comes the patchwork maze once again
The scenery vibrant, the watery gloss
The weather warm, yet even then the secret
shuns of the rainwater deltas find their way home
While not more can be said of this enigma
The man of mirrors, the Darius himself
A return to the shadows can tell a story or two…
Or three or four. Back to the market once again

Riverwash is a cryogenic chamber now
Rowing sways his efforts to unthaw
In sheer bulk, the frosty mast surpasses
The Syllabic Gales…
They multiply and cultify
Crucified by the merciless surroundings
Ocean breathes – the people of the port
Wait to catch the storm, unafraid, apathetic.

One can only watch from the deck
As the darkness fades away… Wait for the next day…
Bloom replaces texture, brown and yellow.
Another year, another flood, another cult hit phenomenon disappoints.
No point in trying, no point in waiting.
Inside the hut one goes, the turtle hermit for life.

In : Poetry 



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