The Very Last

i don't agree with the ideals i have conceptualised in this poem, but that doesn't mean they were any less warranted.

I have walked live with the decision of Death

The metal heel an offence to Christ

Forsaken stigmata-swastika, an instrument of you

The sky has bleached my eyes

Purged the pump of the stale yellow puss

Grown like a sickly hot disease, like a virus

In the place of his gladiator boot,

Causing a ruckus for the judgement spectators,

A supple, subtle, knight of arms, lionhearted winter,

The underlying; the last true horror, like the serpent

Come for tongue, the last pain, for all the

World of peace, for one forsaken anguish, for nothing at all

For the dream, for the medical procedures to pluck

Free the tumour of love, one death to end all deaths,

One suffrage to mould our plane and Theirs

The majestical fungi storm, blue suave

To roll free from our drains, our blasted brains,

All for freedom to romp, dream, dare as we please

All the jarring significance we cannot multiply now

As mortal, as magnified, as heroic as we are to be a raptured

Glow, all sake for one, for all

For the world, one impediment, one pain,

And progressively, the rearing drive of fickle, sickle cells -- 

And the heart cages free in a dome of mystic.

To be free, to be, to be

To devastate, forever, the very last human noise

Before the mouth of Morgenstern tilts the world to the red ash supernova.

Author's Note

i don't agree with the ideals i have conceptualised in this poem, but that doesn't mean they were any less warranted.