Archive 04/19/10

   

Both of Him

                                                                  

At first, time bore the two of them no personal grudges, animus,

Harbored no seething desire to wreak reprisals,

No festering necessity to seek revenge

 

For deeds imaginary or perceived as insubordination incarnate.

But there came a time

When time turned its back on him, both of him,

 

Didn't spurn, repudiate, eschew their interdependent presence

So much as simply ignored their existence,

As if quietus had arrived, time had finally expired,

 

Which, as far as he and his mind-of-its own mind were concerned,

Was a malicious lie, a perverse distortion of the truth, their truth,

A horrendously disorienting truth, truth be told,

 

Told by the obvious pulsations in their carotid arteries,

The blood rush to their throbbing priapus,

When their mistress massaged it, with her hot, clucking tongue.

 

Indeed, it seemed that someone — a malign agency,

Demonic force, cartel, right- or left-wing conspiracy,

Out to silence their vehement abnegation — was traducing them,

 

Sending out rumors as to their complicity in an act of defiance,

A violent willingness, on their sadistic part,

To commit crimes against time itself, by refusing to give up,

 

Give in to its insistence that they quit, surrender,

Join the rank and file of the deceased, submit to early interment,

For the greater good of homogeneity's metastasizing population.

And so it came to pass

That time chalked them off, erased them from its palimpsest,

Veneered them, with a filmy layer of amber,

 

And relegated them to a tiny island in the Sea of Eternity,

Where their heart could beat in time to timelessness,

Without withering the fists of time's indomitable hands.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                               

 

04/19/10

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
       

 

 
   
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