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Thursday, 7 February 2013

Canto XXII

Canto XXII
What lies beneath the German castle and what noble gas perplexes disease? You would know, you say. And still you haven't found the likeness in the hand that wrote Titus Andronicus with that of Malta's Jew, odd. Nor drew the culprit practiced forth, when Elizabeth and Mary stole their wonderful husbands' work. Neither do you tolerate the astute that do.
Now the Eve approaches...for you to stand bare to what you are. Wanting to know, you say, but only what does not disturb complacent comfort. While the answers never moved far from your feet, even to scurry away from your frown. And you've never tested the gap between your thought and its essence to your soul. Even to be one with Gods. Lying about pulsing sun vibrating earth to its core is the lie you can least afford...just to hide the secret power you've discovered, that makes a wave to oval surface. A wave to ride upon. While my vast engines will shake you until you abandon one tune to try another. I, Maldanus, would test this shroud you wrap yourself in to deny the Heavens.
The Suicide
The World is not my place,
she said,
The corners falling down.
And in some timeless attic way
The lace departs my gown.
My body zoned permits no frown
Still on with life I go.
The attic way, a lonely place,
My house for dolls that sin.
With hair uncut (to silence change)
Inside my vault I pace;
Unheard, the echo fades
And shatters my disgrace.
Copyright April 2001 James C. Horak

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