In leaden tears I write
the twilight of times
with the turbulent words
sailing on the ink of silence,
holding out the hand
to this hostess of poor drunkenness...
I write in the name of violence
who seduces the beautiful unknown
with a bouquet of daggers ,
tracing in the flesh a tatoo of dark harvests,
drawing this taboo of tender death ...
I write a dawn at the desolate bedside
of the beloved corpse
and the graceful ballet of blue flies ...
I write the symphony of the great cemeteries
under the moon where old elephants
go with dignity ..
And libraries burning to warm
trembling shadows ..
I write for you sated ministers ,
courtesans ,your breasts withered by your offerings .
Princes , presidents and clever jesters !
I write your requiem ,
Lucifer knocking at the door
Mozart thrown into the mass grave
doctor Goebbels resurrecting ...
I write for a summer love
that ended with the lamb
immolated in oblivion ...
Tomorrow's visitors won't be coming back,
they were once ..Upon a drama ...
I write ,abandoning myself
to the scent of the black rose
that is about to die ...
-
Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Online) - Published: March 13th, 2025 14:11
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 13
- Users favorite of this poem: Ellen Marsell
Online)
Comments4
A fine write, Lorenz. Enjoyed the read.
Thanks dear Jerry !
Obscurity, darkness and a very gothic feel to this poem. It has a sense of gloom and foreboding. Nicely written
An unsettling foreboding of doom...
These lines feel like a storm, a tide that pulls the wreckage of history to the shore of the present. It's an impressive piece.
The wreckage of a society on the brink of history .
The poem speaks with the voice of a prophet. There is both defiance and surrender here— the final act of testimony before inevitable fading. A ruthless piece.
I like it!
A prophetic warning for our princes ?
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