mortality and riches
kings entombed in pyramids are not immortal.
enshrined in their mortality, trapped in their lifespan
they are the quotient of the division they sowed
ruling the lower classes by fright and fright alone
until they absorb it as their own, turned to stone.
fossils of a crueler time, ruins of a civilization's pride.
glaciers will melt, mountains will tumble
destruction is a habit, one impossible to break
similar to the eternal pyramids, and just as bleak:
a pharaoh can stand on his balcony and watch
his predecessors trapped forever by their own pride
never getting to ride in the helicopters of the future,
they will slumber while progress awakens,
until their bodies crumble into dust,
becoming the harsh desert they were born in.
rulers were enmeshed in their sand-coated lives,
never blessed by the smooth movements of a jellyfish,
or the chitter of a chipmunk, mouth filled with winter fuel.
they never got to stare into an ocean sunset.
in life, they were trapped in their fear of death,
even as they continued their march towards it.
and when they finally did crumple
at the end of their walk towards unattainable progress,
they built themselves towers, far from typical
so even in death they could not be doubted.
yet still, they were nothing but mortal,
even as they claimed to be hosts to gods.
not so powerful after all.
I am Life
I am life.
I am an explosion.
I am a rebel screaming out against death with every chord of my voice, every muscle of my body.
I am screaming out against death with my mouth, my fists, my cock.
I am screaming out against the death of the soul, the conformity of society that kills individuality.
I am screaming out for individuality against structure and form and jail cells and walls.
I am screaming from the mountains come here! Come here!
I am screaming from the sky this is where we belong!
I am a rebel rising from a grave.
I am a rebel shaking my fists at the guns and bombs of society.
I am screaming at the killers, the politicians. No more!
I am fighting with every ounce of will, every bit of creativity, every ounce of life force.
I am the thought outside of the box, the whisper in the wind, the howl of the wolf, the roar of the dragon.
I am the fire, I am the energy.
I am life.
some long since gone
some long since gone song playing on the radio,
a dusty stereo between us,
nighttime moon plucked out of the sky and
replaced with an overhead lamp,
bouncing off the car windshield.
if it was a movie, we'd be an hour in,
with warm darkness and breathy air,
tasting the smiles on our faces,
except -
promises. i don't keep,
it's minutes not milestones,
bricks under our feet not clouds,
if my head's above the waves then you've
always been drowning,
holding my hand underwater
while
i let you sink.
i'll let the heat linger,
i'll let the warmth seep into our bones a little
longer, but
our hands touching isn't
electric, but ordinary.
ordinary like your car radio and everything else.
puddles in my chest,
i can see it in your eyes that
you hope, still, that
you'd touch my nose or my face
if i let you.
my mouth, perhaps, if you tried.
please don't send me flowers,
when
i've got nowhere to put them,
and they'll droop and drown in the
moonless nighttime air.
sunlight would find the petals, and
dust motes would dance in the air,
and they'd shrivel up
on my
bedside table, where you'd
never ever see them.
nighttime moon plucked out of the sky and
not enough light
to hold onto, so
it's dark enough to breathe in dust
and think about how, maybe,
we could pretend none of this really
happened
at all.
The Devil Wears Us Well
The Devil wears
Good and Evil
and wears it
All too well.
Cuts a sexy
figure down
the middle,
Cut above
a cute lil
belly pooch
Broached in a
lemniscate
diamond pin
whose shapely
pair of lying
question marks
intertwine and
beguile in their
Hypnotic arts
to limbo
the stricken
within false
Persona,
wearing skins
and outfits,
to the nine:
Admired but
illusioned in
Our minds...
01.28.2023
The Devil Wears ___ & ___ Challenge @MedusasSon420