Red Requiem

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
The life-death cycle

Submitted: May 31, 2008

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Submitted: May 31, 2008

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My heart is a red flag
Billowing in the autumn
A witness to the dead and the dying
Absorbed back into the earth
 
The wind is often an ally
At other times we are strangers
She will not blow, I refuse to flow
While death and the dying to life give birth
 
They are undeterred
Even as man is interred
The grave is never full
There are always tears
 
And light, cobwebs and dust
Decay and rust, carnal love and lust
We learn about life at great cost
When vinegar replaces the milk
From woman’s bust
 
In the muck, the decay, I replay
The moment of first awareness and pray
That innocence might die with all the rest
Every memory is stilted, every desire wilted
 
For they bring no more joy already
We know how it will all end
When the road begins to bend
Backwards to what even memory cannot mend
 
Smile for me, smile let me say I have found my own Rapunzel
Goldilocks pales beside you
Delilah took Samson’s hair
But you gave yours for love
 
And why is there that frown
That settles over your face like a gown
Why this malady that makes you the talk of the town
When you should be wearing her highest crown
 
Grey is the earth, cold is the hearth
But I will drink to your health
Though triumph now is only through stealth
Self-deception is the currency, the true wealth
 
I am a red flag, billowing over fags
A red rag, with eye bags that sag
Watching the girls who come to play tag
To skip and to pick their noses and to practice how to nag
 
While the boys come here with ointment
To give their balls and shafts the treatment
That spews seed all over after the enjoyment
That may become a lifetime predicament
 
Then soon they become women
And soon they become men
Nature doesn’t say, say when
When she faces them with her ancient Bren
Soon they sow seeds in one another
In the woman the seed becomes a child
In the man it blossoms into guilts not mild
They live on, different squares on a floor obliquely tiled
 
While discussions remain incomplete unless there is mention of money
Which is a prerequisite to buy, or to be called, honey
This leads one off in the direction of economics
Which incidentally is a function of apparatchiks 
 
Who may or may not be of the people
Installed by the people
For the people
But are adequate tools doing the bidding of some people
 
Attendant acrimony, ever-constant parsimony
Incessant discourses on it destroy harmony
The day ends, night begins
Childhood flees; you witness it now only in your children’s sins
 
The wind bloweth where it pleases
You don’t know where it’s coming from, or where it’s going
Death is like that; you take strolls arm in arm together everyday
But mercifully we do not see, so we do not know
 
The years fall like ants over the edge of a table
Out of the millions one arises every four years who we are told is able
He tells us he can make the fluctuating charts stable
We all know it is a fable
Every government is riddled with criticisms
Each succeeding one illuminates the last’s demonisms
All through this, because there is nothing else as forbidden
Man and woman continue to plunge and wrap penises into women’s vaginas, vaginas around men’s penises, respectively
And with no respect
For religion or morals or conscience, there is no conscience, should there be one?
Of recent man and woman have both realized they cannot not fornicate
So they have said, Then let us make a religion out of it
Now sex is a big hit
Even I want to fuck in every conceivable position, every woman I meet, at least once
The thought of a penis slithering into well-lubricated dripping ecstasy
The odours of desire and heat, of sweet heady putrefaction and onionsy semen when it is ejaculated
Of the labia majora curled like a flower’s petals around the faithfully thrusting dick-
It is the dance of life, which you should perform only with your wife
Abstinence, the process of it is the sharpest knife
To ever stick yourself in the balls or ovaries with,
In this life
 
Everyone we see meet hate love avoid seek leave join kill give life marry divorce
Is proof that somewhere sometime, two people had grand coitus
That sex is not dead
That it is not a Nigger’s game
That the day you first have sex is the day from which
You will never be the same again
 
We are crops
We are sown, we germinate,
We are tended, we grow,
We are watched carefully, we are eventually harvested
Life roasts us slowly, and then she eats us,
She is done doing this within 70 or so years
And then we are planted as we came, naked (even a corn cob is more dressed up than us at birth)
Back into the soil
Above us men stand in somber clothes and shiny shoes
Some will make jest of things most mundane on our burial days
Before throwing in the dust by the hand full
And placing a bunch of plastic flowers over our headstones
Through six feet of soil we can still see them
Some anxious to get away
Some happy that we are now in the ground
Some genuinely heartbroken, unable to lead on, the normal life
Through six feet we look at them all
And mutter curses that crumble like decaying flower petals
Or blessings that raise their collars and make them put their hands in their pockets
And not much more
We are replanted and we germinate and grow and are tended and are harvested, but in another place
From which none, only Jesus the Christ, has gone and returned
 
It is probably more terrifying to come in here through a pink soft velvety vagina
Than it is to leave it in a six-foot long velvet lined casket
 
Before this there is the age of reversal
When the strong who were once weak take care of the weak
The weak who were once strong huddling in wheelchairs, rocking chairs
Drooling sticky fluid out of their mouths like forgotten memories
Thinking only of what picture to use in impending obituaries
 
My heart is a red flag
Billowing in the autumn
A witness to the dead and the dying
Absorbed back into the earth


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