Curses

we all come to the table when able
the last supper is laid ready and waiting
spiral sounds surround as the spirits dance
casting our corporeal powder into the fire

a vast ruby sunset, so bright it devours your soul
hot dreams burning, as red on red reflects red
one step can kill you, one stinking lousy step
while the true murderers are allowed to run free

dig your own hole in the ground, dig it.. can you dig it
for death is my destiny. it will not wait in mute silence
as the day curses the night for destroying the light
fading in and out and through and back and over..over

this is the end, curses in a thunderous ampule smiling
screaming, dreaming, spinning, whirling, as the devil
devours your acumen casting it adrift in a sea of blood
rivers of ruby flowing into the vast tumbling twilight.

damn…………….


greg

Yes, I can indeed dig it, Cousin Greg; this is great, maybe your best yet I have seen. It proved so thought-provoking I just wrote a poem myself reflecting on your words. You are a catalyst, among other good and cousinly things. A catalytic cousin, as it were.

You have the most haunting poetic voice, genuinely original and always rewarding for the reader; there is a most satisfying depth and darkness present in you which we find echoed in ourselves, and it is a stimulating experience, an expansion of consciousness: a trip.

Thanks, Cousin. And thanks also for your encouragement of me in my own poetry; after the desperate barrenness and intellectual emptiness of spending too much time at AuthorsDen (trying to sell books), a poem of yours can heal a heart hollowed by one too many jingoistic rants about how great Bush is (I'm not kidding; you would not believe some of the stuff written and some of the people writing it: does the junta pay these people, or what? It gives me a migraine; I can't think about it anymore).

Your poetry is real poetry, and I thank you for it. Now I will go and work on one of my own, because you have freed me from the grip of despair by giving me something real and meaningful to read and to think about this lonely and empty morning before first light.

G'day and cheers, Cousin Greg, and thanks again.

Respect and solidarity,

+Stevie

You got it all together Greg,fantastic poem.

Damn.....