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OF OPAL HUE--updated

OF OPAL HUE

In a body worn
and broken
by the gods
into Dark forsaken
breathes a soul
of opal hue
in chains gold and silver
waiting for something
of narue kind and holy
to deliver

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Comments

Perhaps not, at least they sprang for gold and silver, I got copper and my body is a lattice of oxidized green. Pain is no stranger but I call her up, invite her over, no one to blame but me. I want the little taste of death, then I want to go see a kung fu film, get drunk and maybe find a morally casual woman with which to spend a little time. I don't know pain like you. I know triviality, self-infliction for the entertainment of others. I stand alone on the last hill awaiting the last corruption.

That was character writing, I'm touched by your poem, it reminds me most of course of Prometheus and Brunhilde. I feel rage at that confinement, sure I would have been cast down in our droll arrogance of Judeo-Christian religion, where our figurehead is the savior of the world, suffering before death. We are the eagle, we are the mob not the martyr. And your poem is another quiet masterpiece.

Ron

Blue Demon77

Blue Demon77

"What I want is to be what I was before the knife,
before the brooch pin, before the salve, fixed me in this parenthesis:
Horses fluent in the wind. A place, a time gone out of mind."

The Eye Mote-Sylvia Plath

And Prometheus are we all. Thank you, my friend.

PROMETHEUS

{Immortality

I am electricity
fire electric blue
raging through
space and time.
I am the beginning
of all beginnings
the end of none
he “forever”
and the “never die”.

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