Friday, July 6, 2012

Gorgan Mask

Convince me of an apparition
Squish my heart between your toes
With the permission of a jester in mage’s armor
Stomping off for a crusade for your father’s honor
Retaliate as if I were to commiserate the sentiment
Of your exit from pasture to battlefield

Light the fires of briars grown around your aortas
Ventricles pumping sewerage of blackened quotas
Measuring up equations of a vengeance exhorted
Upon our home, upon my name,

Paralyze my arms and put a sword in my hand
I will lay it down and pray for a divergent stand
To speak my voice and pray my task
That is not blood thirst but a broken heart
That raises my mast, on a mission of bloodied cheeks

I see your barrage.  I close my eyes and breathe
A charred smoke into my lungs, a shattered portal
For a man who has been stung by your lancing blows
Remembering who he keeps repeating he use to know

Out there on a blazing specter barreling down the bolts
To my open chest absorb it all, because I have nothing left
Martyr or pariah for my own nation, abandoned yet standing
And yet you question, if you really did hurt me

Even with the Gorgan mask, unfeeling bastion of certainty
That you are right and I am wrong
That because you could not open up, that my feelings were throngs
Of non-belief pent up in a box, false mistakes you could crush
Upon the rocks you would stone my name and face me with scribe
That you could re-write the years of our lives

With cannon balls and moon shots of fired-up charges
That my knees would buckle to your endless barrages
Of passive aggression with poisonous spines
Urchins buried in the dark corners of our life
Hoping to prick my temper abrupt to show the world
A monster corrupt, lashing out at an invented truth
I trust my patience and you will lose

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