PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

my watch never forgets to tell me that i'm late.and i hear its whispers over the long narrow street ahead of me.the heat is cold in my ears as i stand .they walk past me.in rigid waters in this frigid cold.we call them kaelsas.the sanctioners.the empire's men.even in this empty numbness ,it seems almost impossible to look into those eyes.the rays of scorned heat in them.i shudder in their shadows as they sting past.i feel they have no skin,only cold rotten flesh beneath those vilefully thickened shrouds.i walk.all the benches are empty,except one--two dogs are napping in it.park benches are almost as briskfully naked as ice blocks at this time of the year,and somehow the chill seems unending and ever increasing in its vermissititude.its more brisk than it was last night.its seems palpable enough to wind past even a micron of space.
they grey dome looks to be collapsing.held onto by threads now.not long,i remind myself.my feet seems bitter in this impugn frost.yet i cannot stop.not now.its coming closer i feel.my sole crumbles the lethargic maple leaves that are blowing away into a dark reign.the wind is stiff but less of a barrier than this heated frost..the Comedie-Française is waiting for its coup.its closing act..just a few blocks away now..i remember my first performance at the Comedie...Sophocles it was...
"Ah! my poor children, known, ah, known too well,
The quest that brings you hither and your need.
Ye sicken all, well wot I, yet my pain,
How great soever yours, outtops it all."
but all is long gone since..all but the memories are stiffened now..more elevated than before..The regimen are bellowing after.....they are swarming all over the city nowdays...most are arrested...their faces seem to justify thoroughly the crime they had committed...it was in the news yesterday...the refugee camps are all flooded...and there seem to be no other way..of course..Death is beyond them..they are afraid...and hopelessly in love..with what life gives them..My smile is crooked.and i find no ther way..i stop...here it is...-The Comedie de Française...believe me i find no humor in this...but I..its not even a word anymore..as if it ever was..But yes the Empire preaches its desires,the Government's regimes..and its time for us to give in---for them..for me,its a little bit different today....the clouds are muttering in their sleep...i hear them roar in their cimmerian dreams...there's a storm coming...and yes,Today..is the 5th...for the four hundred and ninteenth time in the burning pages of history....a co-incidnece you may say,my own little worldly nemesis..the day the providence falls....and Today,we play Ibsen...
rise you all..
the theatre calls.
..and as actors we fall..
i had a daughter once..Amber...she used to count the bricks by our street everyday on our way back from school...they weren't hollow then,the bricks...But i act now,that's all i am...a performer of theatre...i can hear them chastise their society..burn the mouths they themselves had put language to...and the aelnaeirs..they wanted anarchy...oh,how i laugh with nothing but absolute scorn..they say they love,they say we have power...and yet we rot..rot in this melancholy pot....the carbon smoke is all they seek,and they see,and they curse...poisoned water they made and they drank,till they reprobate existence...none feels...the soul in every cloud of smoke,the thirst in me,for beauty i see...nothing but beauty still..why not do they?...they made power themselves and now in power they despise...my cloak is worn,and i follow her into the stage,a certain Thomas Stockmann now..
the virtuous never fails to lament and condemn the earth they walk upon...we call them poets..and so meek is their philosophy...the lead sky..the dim existence...oh,how they never fail to suffer,suffer the agony of this place they tread uopn...i almost fail to put reason on this ..i find it atrocious to the least....Ah, i enter the stage now...its a packed house..i see David sitting...almost squeamish,as he sopts me under the lights...and how happy are my mundane senses on seeing this..my pirate of a heart is washing away to the shores...i bequeath this to them...my final hour on stage...i have wings today...i fly to seek them out,scream through their tainted eardrums... i can fly, i scream..they give no notice to this..amusement is in the stage they see...like plastic dolls ,blinking their lecherous eyes...but today i feel no pain..not of the beauty or the empty rain..not even the bright sunrise behind the city smog...i escape today..not the world..but the dwellers of this land...cattles of men i see in front now..sitting like perfect gentlemen..they don't know it yet...they'll face the wind ...i'll tell them a story today,a story they won't forget...my conquest's tale...i almost see the shore waiting,but hear,he speaks now...
'......there is an excellent spirit of toleration in the town--an admirable municipal spirit. And it all springs from the fact of our having a great common interest to unite us......'
yes,yes..the common interest..the haelnair they call them..the refugees...we spank them for social reverence...oh,the murderous blasphemies of this jingoist state...i speak now,or roar rather in this empty air...
'every single day I will bombard them with one article after another, like bombshells . I shall smite them to the ground--I shall crush them'
Providence prevails...we live a life of tyranny under surveillance...my attempt is to rise...the minority must rise...the People must fight...fight for the beauty behind the truths,the virtues,the moral preaching...walk through the poisonous mist now...and the sun may rise again...the sun we killed once may rise under the requiem....
And they are here,the kaelsas,they have known..the march ahead..past the men..but its out now,they are late...i smile..i can hear my shadow flicker...the disease is out to kill...my disease...oh,isn't it murderous tonight...People know...i can hear the gunshots,and the sound flows through me like perforated blood...i still speak..more loudly now..
'The majority is never right. Never, I tell you! That's one of these lies in society that no free and intelligent man can help rebelling against. Who are the people that make up the biggest proportion of the population -- the intelligent ones or the fools? I think we can agree it's the fools, no matter where you go in this world, it's the fools that form the overwhelming majority.'
they have risen out of their fatal cocoon...my disease has brought them out of their smitten graves...and now they fight....The Providence falls tonight...i bleed now,a few seconds more i say.....and they break past...the war is here...and i know its time...time for death..the World lives after tonight...and i laugh loud...
'yes.it is this.let me tell you-the strongest man is he who stands most alone'
i bow...oh, how they all clap..with guns and fires and grenades.....and here the curtain draws its final breath,and i stand alone...on the brink of afterlife..as they fight for tomorrow.....the Providence falls...after years i breathe my last ....Liberty is here...Anarchy at last....