The Tattooed Men of Dawn

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Phoenix Poetry

Submitted: March 15, 2017

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Submitted: March 15, 2017

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Only If I could embody the braveries of Dawn,

Where all is possible and all is seen

And all life is congressed by the fortune of thought.

But I grumble out of bed and arch in drowsiness

Putting socks, trousers and idleness all on my suit

Of awakening, not quite ever realising what it means.

 I have never dreamed,

Or awoke to a full day of light;

'Ars totum requirit hominem'

Cries the tattood men riddled with sight;

And so marches the condemned genuises

In lead cloths, circles and itching youth

Unto their failures, unto the fortunes of night

Where their war cries are perverted to a fight,

Unto their failures, unto the fortunes of night

Where their martyrs are screams and vagaries

Unto their failures, unto the fortunes of night

Where the blackness is split with a white breath

That carries the words;

'Ars totum reuiqrit hominem'

 

My eyes expand and flood like a puddle,

Dew reflects, from the marbles of my sight,

A shimmering silver light, from a 

A plated heart once red, a mother’s touch.

Native rivers spur and gargle from the mouth,

The crows hum, devout oaks croak

And I awake to a river of darkness

Trickling from the bower of my lips;

I try to whisper, visions shake my shoulders

And my eyes shudder in delights of the dawn!

The crows sing, devout oaks bellow

And my hands stain the bedsheets with ink,

All is an approachment, I fade unto the light

Uttering the words;

Ars totum requirit hominem


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