Barbelith Underground > Creation

So there I am (or rather here I am) halfway through my annual 3 day novel, maddeningly sleep deprived and I suddenly have this line of poetry spring to mind but it has nothing to do with my book, so I think I'll ignore it - but I figure no harm done, so I write it down, and like it...and then this poem HAPPENED to me. All at a go in linear as written with me basically powerless to stop and go back to work on my novel.

It just ate several valuable hours but I had to send it out:

TOMB

Three brothers came from the Moon's own womb
the youngest fled though all the plains
when middle was by eldest slain.
the Earth his Tomb.

The youngest worked in greening lands
The middle soaked in wretched pools
The eldest trod on trackless sands
cast free to wander free of rules
not Sun nor Moon nor Stars above
to guide his course or stay his hand
but angels there with holy love
his mark to honour by command
not eye for eye but Sevenfold
exacted onto heedless fools
who disbelieved what all behold
as plain as night upon his soul
with sign and mark and symbol dark
reflected there like seven jewels

dark rods of iron bent and skewed
or forged to mock the solar gold
unearthly sign of heaven crude
enough to place in murder's hold
to place in murder's killing limb
to place in hands still wet with blood
proof of injustice bought and sold
or gifted freely onto him

an empty circle spinning round
on measured squares of angles screwed
to starless firmament past where
there darkly heard does pierce past shade
the laugh of he the sign had made
or he which made and handed down
that circle-square of murder's crown

thou shalt not touch the edict went
proclaiming sign of violence meant
by edge so keen with jagged teeth
that seven falls of blood would spill
from every wound that fell beneath
that symbol halting every hunt
that lack of murder's punishment
that orbit proof of blood betrayed
of eye and tooth and blood unpaid
where raised it sheltered murder still
assassin's sign there placed beside
the Sun and Moon by deadly pride
the hole occult the unseen eye
the bladed mouth above the sky
the iron claw of murder dared
the circle-square of death prepared
unjust turned cold and slowly round
and emptied over bloodied sound
of tortured Earth whose bowels writhe
with swallowed blood and gurgled cries
where red slaked clay can wrestle free
to take one breath and loose on high
the shrill demand that if it die
then death die too by Earth's embrace
with final kiss on rotting face
dole vengeance singled out to match
the single crow his murder hatched
from buried egg in covered clay
that never felt the touch of day
on bleached white beak still questing down
through sullen sadness underground
away and down from sign and place
to lakes of blood and unmade race

and there between them
small and scared
still lives the youngest brother's blood
whose feeble covenant as heirs
was washed away in callous flood
then made anew and more dilute
to make quite clear to whom was owed
due tribute for the lion's share
of loved ones floating in the brute
wide sated spans of dark Deluge where
crashed the thunders of his boot

they prayed
it ceased
then doves were played
over the bob
of men unmade
and also crows
but those knew well
to supper first
on tender eyes
from babes that drifted undisguised
and unremarked upon by he
whose leave had set the waters free

then insult salted inflamed cares
when matched to murder's wicked sign
exalted iron circle-square
unblinking empty twisted lines
and promised peace held overhead

peace fluttered over charnel leagues
before that multitude of dead
had even time to pay the fines
on ferries meant for rivers drowned
whose ferrymen had not yet found
hereafters thrashed by storming chains

peace offered before dead remains
could even drift down whirlpools steep
which opened here and there and drained
away the sea of hammers rained
upon those lands of gentle sheep
and wolves alike no judge's scheme
on bobbing faces was there seen

then tyrant bade the living hark
to ghosts of ribbon on the air
ghostly colors now submerged
and swept by walls of rain converged
hues swept away and swallowed where
the curves of spirals roared them down
beyond the vision of the ark

and then afar
a gray white speck
the dove returned
though first was thought another cloud
which panic stirred to shouts aloud
and rage they yelled with rage they burned
and cast that rage at world's wreck
and called the silent others fools
cursed the sky
cursed its rules
cursed its random brutal plot
hark they screamed that one betrays
all promises
and end of days
is every night if random words
from bearded mouth can cities raze
can stop the breath and still the hands
and crush with oceans mortal lands
how allied can this ancient be
if all his powers cannot see
that fickle scraps of spectral art
in curving flickers set apart
from earth and toil and mortal love
shall never make replacement of
the death of our entire world

save us we who with heavy hearts
must bear and make as though farewell
was spoke to be afloat with joy
and not to be the parting call
afloat between two spacious hells
of dark below and fire above
and neither ruler sparing love for we
forgotten scraps of clay
left cracked and crumbling by day
and trod by night

look there and do not act so blind
look there above you search and find
between the Moon and Sun is fixed
a hole a bleak and hateful disk
of razored edges looking down
built and flown there as a crown
for he who poured the blood around
the crimson sea in potter's ground
and hangs reward on cruelty marked
with iron forged and vengeance sparked
and angel servants in the dark
with deadly vessels seven fold
who cape him green with locust robes
and keep him safe from every prick
of knives well earned to boldly stick
into his eye yes yes his eye
where there avenged he will not die
but roll and weep and press his hand
all slick with blood and rough with sand
against the gap of ruined sight where buried hilt
and wrong made right
and murderer deprived of sight
be shamed beneath his watching crown
the shielding sign still looking down
and shame it too that servant of
this quailing mewling man-shaped dove
whose violence was a coward's blow
struck once struck fast to send below
still blinking flesh
that did not know
what yet it meant for flesh to die
and smiled up at brother's game
the sudden pain a mystery
unrecognized and without name

smiles through spirit's fading flame
smiles from dimmed life without resign
smiles with nothing but a puzzled gaze
for why this brother dearly loved
would scowl so deep and dark and long
at hand to elbow crimson gloves

then fading eyes all drained away
into the ground and he cried out
to call this game or prank to end
to take the hands of closest friend
to lift him from the dirty ground
with strange new gloves of crimson red
and tell him what the rules were now
in this new game that they had played
this game of pain and flesh arrayed
along the sucking seam of clay
where now his shaking body lay
and blood ran fingers into grass

he tries to speak he cannot speak
his eyes are dark his lips are weak
he feels his soul start tumbling down
or body falling into sky
with sudden fears he lashes out
grasps hold upon his own slack jaw
but lacks the strength to lift his flame
to flesh and grant the spirit's kiss
so dangles from his ghostly hand
from jawbone hung over abyss
where something moves down there
he sees and tries again to lift his soul
but lacks the strength for death's parole
and feels his ghostly fingers ache
as entropy begins to take
him down with the relentless pull
of gravity for those not full
of quickened blood and laughter still

he whimpers hangs and hears the sound
of brother's footsteps moving off
and leaving him alone and cold
pale corpse beneath some heaped up stone
there hidden now his brother gone
the game is done he has no strength
for ghost tears and releases hold
just as murder's red-stained hand
let drop the wedge of stone to dust
first marker of a blood daubed wall
thrown up between to hedge the sound
of pallid ghost voice as it screams
out anger over Eden's streams
and forest glens of rotting fruit
from seed forbidden taking root

he tumbles down through worm choked slime
and under cairn his blood now boils
and from the blood slick clay rings out
first protests of the ancient crime
no throat the maker of the sound
nor lips to coil scream into words
he falls away from the sign set high
as seal to shield with watchful eye
while brother killer slinks away
with patted head from demon sky
who watched with glee on soaring wing
then made as if just passing by
and feigned surprise and fake despair
ran fingers through death matted hair
and made to cast the slayer out
but then instead to leave no doubt
gave passage over distant land
calmed sea and lofted by his hand
the iron square wrapped round in bands
to ban and keep all righteous wrath
from ever crossing murder's path

but if seven dooms the killer had
or seven thousand still no power
could block from thought the crimson stain
the weeping red and fateful hour
he sent his brother down to die
he shudders at Earth's echoed cry

murder has been appointed king
whose fate is set and sealed in ring
of empty iron looming high
over these floods of hateful sky
we speak now to you we too few saved
by chance or whimsy or deranged
creator's will our warden here
the crafter of our every fear
so look up sheep
if those are clouds
of rains approach like muslin shrouds
should wind lash out and thunder rake
do not act strange or offer pleas
nor fearful prayer on bended knees
don jewels mere power cannot take
and die a man from cruelty freed
crowned noble under dignity

and if that gray
that speck
should prove a dove
do not confuse it then with love
but look above to seven blades
whose iron circle never faces
ends nor ever fears to fade

for underneath
on rainbow pale
glow seven hues
for billions failed
from this fine grade
blood spilled now sorrow felt
such sorrow as already fades
and there above begins to melt

then that dove lit in silence
and to mountain led
the tiny fleet
amidst the dead
who mercy had begun to sink
through drunken waters dark as ink
unmourned
unmarked
unknown
unseen
their names an unrecorded dream
of bitter bones in scattered sleep
across the floor so dark and deep
no voice could reach them
none save one
wherein their endless dream the red
and crawling screeches blossomed shrill
to fill their heads or skulls at least
the murdered wraith their final friend
red raging cry that blood portends
who never quiets
never stills
never leaves
never ends

and on the mount up there aground
we cowered stripped of certainty
our certainties now passed along
up into hands where darkness laired
vast circle-squares of hollow mills
like catacombs with fire filled
sharp wheels to sever seven shares
for every one their cog teeth touched
or drilled within their ceaseless heart
to keep him from revenge and still
strike whispered curse with vengeful art
that bellowed out and heaven filled

that sign which Earth's own cries did draw
when bloodied ground with iron claw
did he that bore it stab the sound
of murder welling through the soil
from crimson reservoirs of oil
for ghostly lamps that cannot burn
because his hands snuffed out the spark
and threw the wick from empty man
to sink through darkness never still
interred in clays that once knew form
as middle son and second born

But the eldest built a city too
where the angels and the devils flew
with wings unfurled

Of the youngest son all the books do speak
and the eldest fades from view
his only sign that mark so bleak
that vengeance holds it true
sevenfold on young and old
and any fool who dares
inflicting woe on he once told
that any curse he suffers bears
aloft on wings of sharpened gold
such wings as lift up mortal fares
when mortal beings leave the fold
for deeper fire or shining air
and there above might see arrayed
a sea of red trailed in their wake
an oriflamme to honour he
whose hand did first a mortal take
or will and eye a mortal make
and grave ends sent the middle path
into dark earth with hot blood drowned
to red abyss that knows no sound
except the echo drops have fed
when dripping down through potter's ground
immortal seas of flowing red
where agony his bed has found
to settle crimson head and nod
to sleep and cease his buried cries

he who lifts up man's long knife
against the mark of murder round
that fool is doomed
his weapon quaint
when sevenfold is so profound
a force against those we command
in folly now and thoughtless fire
and humps of demon sickness dire
that make the soul itself go faint
and burn the flesh with blackened rain
into a shadow of complaint
then silhouette it onto life
and maybe catch a passing eye
who'll take the shadow as their wife
a shadow consort for our sire
a shadow lover's burning taint
a shadow bride for sons of cain
a shadow square there girdled round
in shadow house of many rooms
that rule the shadowed meek by turns
and strike the shadowed cheek that yearns
for anywhere but shadowed tombs.

Daily Poetry