Quicksilver

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Phoenix Poetry

Submitted: April 23, 2017

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Submitted: April 23, 2017

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He is nothing but expression's prey…" 

Lavishes of Dusk impart to cotemporary reposes of prey, 
The ravaged cartiladge inside all breasts and quills of black
Sizzle under the weeping golden eyes of the wretched clinician
Whom ties his indigo straits, from the Dawn of Pan, upon his back
And carries conceptual pride naked; Our haemaphrodites recited day, 
Mercurius' hour, learnt by elusivness, bows to the ominous emission. 
— ‘Praise expression! — The familiar contemplation! ' 
Echoes the hollowed boy shrouded in the rubbles of his nation, 
Sickly persuading, flat-chested and contrived of birth to soon
He is the typical closed-cheek, narrow-eyed boundless child; 
Flints of the weakest steel, seismacally black from maroon, 
Filter a magnificent colour from the scythed hue of the Sea 
Within foam harked from pubic bone; senseless batterings mild 
Sets his thoughts into motion, hidden under what we can see. 

The general illumination will start with the most basic expression 
And evolution will be agreed upon, but not by general illumination; 
The casted shores of opalescent bore, seived by radical agression 
Will be most radiant under the democratic mollestation, 
Our mind is the grand embarassment, necessary for the regression 
Of a deity, wrists of purple valleys and heaths of conversation, 
Tied within our infinancy of understanding— this body's compression: —
Groved by a weakened genie groved by his marooned composition, 
Is not based with a heart, mind, loins or breath—the lesson 
Learnt and decided by ourselves. The wind is desparetly superfluous
And the creatures with crooked laces burrow in their makeshift holes; 
My farce is endeared and sadistic, I am lost within unseen colours 
And my knees have nothing but the aspect of brittle scythed souls; 
I am truly casted upon a foam gnawed shore, and I live my day 
In the visions of present— I have nothing else to do except pray… 

"The intelligence of Destinies will worship his cause…
His destitutions will be considered as abundance… 
Embankments of gold will be stripped to pride...
The savage rivers will be renounced as virtue...
Devine Capitulations will be sensed aloud...
His visions will be squandered to Earth...............etc. etc. etc...

Reinvented love will be cast to gravel!"


© Copyright 2017 Manx. All rights reserved.

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