A Poem by Penguin

my mind is hazy tonight
like the cool effluvia that falls over autumn daybreak
but if i ostensibly cease and strain 
to catch the polychromatic collisions 
throwing off my quintessent rhythm,

i can descry only the faintest of monitorial melodies.

the very ground breaks and crumbles beneath my feet, but still
all my senses know is this terminal passion
resonating through my chassis,
leaving its grievous score, leaving and shifting and
awakening, as though it was, in fact, my antecedent self
who had truly fallen between the seams of dusk.

still, sensory shock begins to overwhelm the system
and from the day cognisence came over me like seasonal overlap i knew the words that fell from your lips were nothing but septic, nothing but
parasites lying in wait, writhing
nestling betwixt bone and flesh, even within themselves
unaware of the dilute days thereon pending.

few now are the eves
where i crumple under celestial stratum
for no reality so veracious would allow circumvention
into antiquity, nor fugue
when all is ambrosial but actuality.

sunrise bleeds into ante meridiem over vitric vision;
one of these days i’ll put pen to paper, daring
to envision placid esprit, to envision something,
anything beyond you and i. [but,]

optics resume and the reverie disperses,
slipping from my grasp and filtering through splayed fingers like the sands of foreordained menology
but the smile that tastes lachryma promises so much more than these desolate days fit for nothing
but typhlotic tripping
like some ruptured symphony paired with pairless figurante
arrived at the boundaries of cataclysm with nothing 
but a defective soul.

© 2013 Penguin

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Are you very young? Sometimes these more arcane words cause the reader to stumble and lose perspective. I understand the siren allure of language; I have been in love with it for over 60 years. The "magic technicolor coat" can sometimes disguise what we really want to say. BUT -- if I experience this slight discomfort, it in no way diminishes your talent and style.

Posted 7 Years Ago


7 Years Ago

i'm 15. and though i have no ultimate aim with my poetry in what i want to achieve with it, i like t.. read more

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1 Review
Added on April 18, 2013
Last Updated on April 26, 2013
Tags: falling, love, night, day, morning, heart, heartache, romance, fatal, passion, danger, wound, sensation, anatomy, hopelessness, hope, sky, escape, trapped, vision, time, tears, loneliness, moving on



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A Poem by Penguin

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A Poem by Penguin