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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Death · #1551556
An impressionistic meditation on my mom and myself.
I hear the rain thundering outside.
There's a dog howling with it.
The graveyard beside me reeks of dirt and maggots.

Decadence embrace; eaten slowly by MOTHER EARTH.
The cradle of black, oozing spit.
She is devouring, salvaging her own sons.
Something dies this night, the skies shower its tears. Anger
Takes over His inherited throne.

Glass shatters like broken promises...

Eyes peer back with blood dripping from the lens.
Muddy world and its corrupt heath.
It is euphoric; a welcoming pestilence.
The stench of centuries taste bitter-sweet.

Surgical removal: opened wide.
I see it all so clearly: it divides!
Life and death.
Light and Darkness.
Love and Dogs.
Lost in Discretion.
Green inside Red.
Wasn't it the other way round?

Deceived Land: Her culture lost
To those beyond the sea.
A preferred juxt;
Democracy falters, societies flee.

All over it is Red.
The green is dead.
A generation cries to depart; 
The promise laid to bed.
A sychophentic sorcery; slashing, streaking,
Poorly it succumbs to a retard.
A facade of ignorance and self-slaving sorcery.

A screen as bright as the sun.
Cornea ripped apart,
"Now, isn't this fun?"
A doctor's chosen art.
 
A lacerating surgeon, televising vice.
Pins and needles; poke the veins.
Blood spurts. Clods and slits.
No, not blood. But flesh, the food of maggots we fatten ourselves to be.
And Globs of Red are all that I see.

Eternal truth; lost in existence.
"A voice must mean what it says"
"A voice must make sense." But what of
The Angry howls of a Dog?
The melancholic BEAUTY of a ruptured soul,
Torn like a cataract of an eye. They pump it all in,
Yes, oh yes. The Morphine.
Indifference never tasted sweeter.
But why does it still hurt? Why does it still burn?

I thought I was buried six feet under. I thought
I was dead.

But Mother Earth won't hold me near.
No, not anymore.
I simply AM and cannot DIE...
No mommy dearest, not tonight.

Her clay is dried, and she can't lend me hers
For I lay asleep. Perhaps in eternal bliss,
In eternal truth, lost in existence.
A dog howls into the night.
A grave topples over.
I am in pain AGAIN... I salvage it.

Now, there is only light because I am missing a cornea.
I laugh at those voices who wanted it all to make sense.


--Nave Hayder

This is protected by ME so don't go on to steal it, seriously, it'll just leave a sore taste. If I get good reviews on this (and by that I mean criticism) I'll post my other pieces. Feel free to mock, flame, stomp, tread, rampage, and scorn. And oh yeah, interpret if you want to. Lemme know. My e-mail is always open to suggestions.
© Copyright 2009 Nave Hayder (nave_hayder at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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