Against Hammer, We Ascend

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Contently Deranged Travelers
A little something from a year ago. Mostly uninspired.

Submitted: June 23, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 23, 2008



Hammer dissolves as it strikes the muscle,
flatten and recoil and turns to sand.
It’s bland to dream of love
when love will waste the hormones. 
It’s rotten to hope for connections,
intestine stretching to tie the noose,
so loosely we define ourselves
through the worse, not the better.


By the anvil, not the feather...


Through pain comes age, skin sheds youth
drops concepts on the kitchen floor.
Roar atop the ivory peak, so weak
forget your life, the world will absorb.
Fanciful convictions, savage,
soaking in the bloodied sea.
Soft breeze shredding mountain shadows;
passing ‘round, forgetting me.


Blessed beacons guiding home,
this orchid star’s soul will steal
massive monuments, we’ll miss them,
and as for me, I’ll strike a deal.
Hurting, hurting - warm-blooded, pale,
recharge from the gash we’ve torn
it’s born: The child of malice, hungers,
now we’re parents, we can’t just scorn.


Feed the princely dragon shape,
walk it down the crowded streets.
Our son, our pet, we obligate
the mass to learn the future they’ll meet.
Brute lies fill the gaps between
our capillaries, spreads miles apart,
they start with sunset twilight rust
and end in battle, bombarding rampart.


I felt so content, knowing I knew
what these organs would be molding into,
and through the shapeless darkest gore
come more - more ants to raise the pew.
Thoroughbred toxic canine drools
and pools its love across the tile.
Stepping lightly through, I pet him,
the disease that passed was so worthwhile.


now comes the part I can’t play dead,
no chance to wither quietly to bed,
‘cause fed through force, it must be said;
we’re all the demons, and God we behead.
Through heaping helpings of lustful woes
and spiteful ways we make love slow;
His hammer bent on our muscles, so
I guess that means we claim his throne.

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