Mirror's Edge

Unfinished work, no pictures because I wanted to focus solely on the words. I made up one or two as an experiment. It's hard to get into, but try to reach the end. It plateaus.

Mirrors Edge

Centurions of cerebral impurities pusillanimous celestials ambidextrous exorcism requiem dissections epilepsy, drowsy, insurmountable Valkyries pronouncing draconian pandemonium of psychotic Necronomicon clockwork recirculating metallic veins harmonic melancholy automatons dawning harvest moons’ lunatics obsidian equilibrium of Mediterranean euthanasia strangulating these strawberry jigsaw colossus, ostracized by the hypnosis of osteoporosis cloaking the enshrouded alchemic demi-gods of reincarnated acrylic silhouettes billowing from the pavilions of silicone kaleidoscopes of cornucopias orchestral evanescence deprecating shapeshifting Odysseus proliferating transformation’s sapience of instrumental alphabets symphonic confidantes of psionic gonorrhea

All I see is the silver wilderness of a penetrated heart

Tyrannosaurus metaphorical agoraphobia meteoric metamorphosis glorifies photosynthesized

Lapis lazuli, Malekith, avalanche, Lazarus, Azathoth, ziggurat makeshift simultaneous tainted saviours’ assailants the reaper’s scythe messiah’s death incandescent ectoplasmic sadness

Neo hallucino-genesis of translucent illusionary universes, enumerated by ricocheting shrapnel baptisms light’s primordial prisms ventriloquist equilibrium of scimitars of barbed wire annihilation cryostasis regenerative Armageddons’ heaven Neverland anorexic hecatomb illuminating kamikaze transmogrified homicidal homunculi who sigil digital tranquillity alienated halos railroaded exordia on the borderline intertwining cypresses cyphers’ the delightful psychic scythe of vibrant delirium veneer’s serendipitous deliverance chlamydia ambiguously limitless to the dim-lit diabolical of Holocaust, monochrome emotions of doppelgängers jagged contamination constellations homo-sapien gape vacations through the mirrored lyrics spherical earlobes interloper of endorphins mesmerizing amnesia’s paraplegic abbreviations misleading readers demonized by the silver glass of symmetrical epilepsy of cataclysmic photosynthesis the edge of every hallucinogenic endeavour clementine rhinestone shattering the bible shadowed hallelujah Gilgamesh interceptor of continental falconers belching alchemical obscenities demifiends of centuries spent behind the cold hard glass of another world castrated by the undertaker of whirlwind humanitarianism’s religion to see through the two way mirror and only see yourself

Cracking cardiovascular plateaus across veins upon the avery grains of guillotines that sliced a world in two

And left this view

Incongruous

The twilight of a nihilist environment

Sheds light on the scythe of Ragnarok, drops of rain archaic stain the raiments of an abstract Rorschach

And the green meadows of Valhalla breathe in the shattered glass Galactica

On the edge of death, life is simply a reflection, a religion, a relationship that goes through the seasons with every step

And before you’ve noticed, off the edge

The path through that enlightenment

Is a still-frame mirror image of those who stepped before you

The trailblazers who left a path through the pacifism lacerated

That through velvety belladonna of nightshade setting overshadowed on the fires of man

Built the mountainside skyscrapers of kaleidoscope's biomechanical anarchy disembarking reincarnated through ruminations euthanasia 

Stars with no sky

Clouds with no harbour

People with no holds, no chains

Just souls that wrap around the Capricorn storm-clouds of fluorescence metamorphosis

As I walk forward with every step past the mirror's edge

I am not running from this life

I’m making my way home

I am not alone

Author's Note

I very seldom reply to reviews, but I promise I read EVERY single one. I look forward to my next review, because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be ecstatic to have the chance to hear what you have to say. Whenever you write something about my poems, or the themes of my poems, or criticize me it is not in vain. I will listen, learn and be thankful.

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

When I read you, I don't always understand what you are writing about. Yet I am always impressed by your language and imagery and the flow of you work. Your last stanza in this poem gave me some understanding and I was thankful for that.

Chris

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

It's definitely an abstract style. All the words in the first half of the piece rhyme with another word that follows. There is a story, but it is so hidden that I needed to finish the poem with something that could open it up. I'm glad you took the time to read this. I'm quite proud of the poem as a whole, I feel the first bit and the second are no poem without each other. Like a mirror, two different landscapes that tell the same symmetrical story.