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Poetry Magnum Opus

Cain


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I was born under a full moon on a night train

my father an ironsmith made steel for the tracks

and now that full moon has become my bane.

 

I lost my brother Abel my name is Cain

Now I drive a train my maker wants his tax

I was born under a full moon on a night train.

 

Driving I saw a wolf in a trap beneath the rain

Snake river swallowed the moon, wolves drank in packs

and now that full moon has become my bane.

 

In a tunnel my passengers wait for the sun in vain

In a meadow a farmer vexes a lamb with an axe

I was born under a full moon on a night train.

 

Traveling across a windless sunless plain

bearded men empty crucifixes out of sacks

and now that full moon has become my bane.

 

To the passengers I must really explain

I don't exist, only as one of my makers acts

I was born under a full moon on a night train

and now that full moon has become my bane.

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Unusual imagery and subject matter in what can be a claustrophobic form of writing. Well worked.Benjamin

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  • 4 weeks later...
abstrect-christ

everything's said -- nicely done.

Pinhead

"Unbearable, isn't it? The suffering of strangers, the agony of friends.

There is a secret song at the center of the world, Joey, and its sound is like razors through flesh."

Joey

"I don't believe you."

Pinhead

"Oh come, you can hear its faint echo right now. I'm here to turn up the volume.

To press the stinking face of humanity into the dark blood of its own secret heart."

"There's a starving beast inside my chest
playing with me until he's bored
Then, slowly burying his tusks in my flesh
crawling his way out he rips open old wounds

When I reach for the knife placed on the bedside table
its blade reflects my determined face
to plant it in my chest
and carve a hole so deep it snaps my veins

Hollow me out, I want to feel empty"
-- "Being Able To Feel Nothing" by Oathbreaker

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aBPy3xNwwL8

"Sky turns to a deeper grey

the sun fades by the moon

hell's come from the distant hills

tortures dreams of the doomed

and they pray, yet they prey

and they pray, still they prey"
-- "Still They Prey" by Cough

https://soundcloud.com/relapserecords/sets/cough-still-they-pray

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Villanelle is one of those traditional form I love. And the repetition emphasizes the centralness of the full moon and the associated imagery of the full moon. I love it eclipse.

"Words are not things, and yet they are not non-things either." - Ann Lauterbach

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