By Marshall Hann
Submitted by Blessed23
Date: 2009 Jan 28
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Tangled Threads

The Breast of History
can not contain
my desire,
or my egregious iniquities
long enough
to consume this prurient decision
to dream,
of chaos and catasrophe
transforming this transient existence
into a manifestation of silence
and plastic placidity.
It can not tame
this consolidated heart
that has spawned inviolable thoughts
in the warm blood
flowing, strangely, through hungry veins
and an awakened mind

You are noble,
incorrigibly beautiful,
and yet irreversibly abhorrent
to the senses
When I wake
and hear your tongue click
"Tic, tock
tic, tock."
You have no catharsis,
no way to bleed out
the poisonous pain
that is consuming this silence
with sick serenity,
you are the paradoxical panacea
extending a broken hand
to any who would listen
(A hand that resembles silk
draped over people and nations:
harsh creations,
abrasive to our Our stumbling serenity)

So lay down your judgments,
let your crown gather dust
on the warm ground,
lay down in this bed of crisp dew,
let me see you naked
in all your splendor:
Open your legs wide,
and let Me dig out your soul