Cleave the Sea with a sword!
or pierce the Mountain's black basalt heart
with a lance that's stoutly thrown!
Spit and douse the fiery Sun
and light the passion of the eunuch Moon!-
with tender lies uniquely told!
The lies of love, unnumbered,
rise from my body's parts like steam and fog! -
burning like Falluja furnace! -
Like a cigarette whose smoke
I gulp down like Ramadan-starved men
who break the fast
with food...
with drink...
with sweets and more.
Bodily forms from afar!
I sense the Boundaries of my affection! -
their circumference I invite.
Yet my eyes are empty;
your face has set into the West, and has
not yet arisen in the East!
Scatter the treasures of
Byzantium with phosphorous white delight!
Count the gold as sand! -
without value...
without hope...
without your jewelled arm!
note
written with more passion than clarity.
it is filled with desire and anxiety.
any meaning expressable in words escapes me.
2 comments:
peace what the peace is to be free to be or to be free to move or to be free to think i rogot in france today what peace is because im jewish artist and wrote a song talk about september 2001 my face is dammage my properties stolen i cant live the country my works and properties intelectual spy or robbe and no audience or journalist i work in newspapers more 17 years no one for jewish in culture or televiediosn in france today love your poeme sweet your freind joelle esther benyayer also impossible to receive call from my friends in england america my line is block my authority need help joelle esther benyayer
It is not impossible for you to communicate. You have just done so.
The Byzantium of your dreams has value, hope, and that jewelled arm. Remember that when the time comes.
Let everything in your existence conspire together to assist you, rather than oppress you. The story will have the ending you write, so make it a good one... and some years off into the future.
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