Time, grim collector of souls...
Witnessed time's tick and tag catch up with testimonies;
Oh (how) the twisted minds of but a twisted few
Have ruined thread and morality of many a screw
And what the meditation durst mortality subdue.
Worshipped love in cathedrals of nature
(Or was it the other way around),
Took gospels with generous sprinkles of soul-
Salt, pressed juice and oil and essence into golden
Cups of love, most potent of abraxas.
Who will push or lever, roll stone from sepulchre,
This Golgotha of poisoned praxis,
Like bold Atlas, turn atlas 360 degrees on axis.
Ask not the unanswerable
Of Archimedes and Pythagoras.
Can lines and angles circumscribe
A mind or soul whose life has been a constant song,
Melodies, harmonies, harmonics, enharmonic
Pitches, chords, discords, intervals, scales, modes, degrees,
Notes, tones, octaves of seven and twelve,
Breve, minim, crochet, quaver, beats, upbeat, downbeat,
On the beat, off the beat, after the beat, just plain beat,
Broken, into bars, beats within bars,
Beats across bars, beats under bars, behind bars, beaten with bars,
Beaten bards, broken bards, limbo bars, pause, rest, arrest, eternal rest,
Cardiac arrest, twitch, the final tick of broken metronome.
How long are parallel lines, the parallax to infinity
And at what point exactly does day become dusk, twilight
Become night, return to dawn, to daylight.
Will ripped adonis, Atlas, bare, bronze muscles exposed
In elemental attire, ever tire of the weight,
The orbit and the ambit of waiting to expire;
But then mortality is for mortals and mortal things
Like burnt-out butts of chronologies
And slept-out endings of documentaries.
When, when, when, when, when, when, when...
Will we truly understand the meaning of e = mc squared.
Is there really such a thing as beginning or end
Or is the mire of Nostradamian soothsayers,
Prophets of doom and Mayan calendars,
Nothing but maya and miasma.
Newton, Einstein, Hawkins, we have seen your science,
Heard your grave and sceptic, morbid silence;
Now speak to us of heaven or heavens, or even
Of heavenly designs, and the Divine.
Copyright ©2011 by G. Newton V. Chance
- G. NEWTON V. CHANCE
- George Newton Vivian Chance (Trinidad and Tobago) -- member of the Poet Society of Trinidad and Tobago, http://poetssocietytt.blogspot.com/ and the World Poets Society, http://world-poets.blogspot.com/ -- born in Tobago on 3rd March 1957. While residing at Rio Claro was inspired to write over a hundred poems at the turn of the Millennium. Hobbies include playing wind instruments, building computers, observing nature, reading and writing poetry. Believes that the power of a song is in its ability to evoke emotions by the marriage of lyric and music but that music without lyric can be just as powerful, that lyric without music can also be just as powerful, that there is music in the lyric and that lyric can be simple yet profound. Also, in this the age of computers, would like to model his lines after simple and efficient code and, analogous to Object Oriented Programming, achieve most of his imagery from nouns and verbs, avoiding the bloat and excess of unnecessary adjectives. This is what he aspires to attain in his poetry.
2 comments:
love it
Hi Nikita, maybe you can be my mysterious Muse. Much thanks.
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