"Autobiographies of great nations are written in three manuscripts – a book of deeds, a book of words, and a book of art. Of the three, I would choose the latter as truest testimony." - Sir Kenneth Smith, Great Civilisations

"I must write each day without fail, not so much for the success of the work, as in order not to get out of my routine." - Leo Tolstoy

I have never believed that one should wait until one is inspired because I think the pleasures of not writing are so great that if you ever start indulging them you will never write again. - John Updike

"The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another; and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it." - J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

Poetry is the shadow cast by our streetlight imaginations." - Lawrence Ferlinghetti


[Note - If any article requires updating or correction please notate this in the comment section. Thank you. - res]


Showing posts with label Poems by R.E. Slater. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poems by R.E. Slater. Show all posts

Friday, April 4, 2025

R.E. Slater - Shifting Sands



Shifting Sands
by R.E. Slater



Morning's rising winds came without the cooing desert dove,

Pitched in tuneless streams that rose and fell in hot breath,

Under a hot, waxing sun spewing wind-whipped gyres,

Wheeling in the empty sanded seas before nomadic eye.


Afar lay a ruined Sphinx broken amid the drifting sands,

Its unerring gaze lifting, falling, across the molten heats -

An ancient hull measuring time's temporal strands,

Anchoring eternal rolling tides of forgotten eras.


Blowing, gritty sands gathered and fled in restless swirls,

Their stinging presence recalling past chapters read -

Though nothing moved - neither man nor solitary beast,

One sensed memories forgotten straining to live.


The burning sands ceaselessly re-wove their compositions,

In seam and hull, mast and sail, across the arid wastelands,

Beneath sightless stars enduring daylight's torpid hours,

Writ in toil and strain - a wasteland's echoing dreams.


R.E. Slater
April 4, 2025

@copyright R.E. Slater Publications
all rights reserved




Analysis by OpenAI ChatGPT 4.0

The poem evokes a subtle narration more experiential than linear as reflected in the poem's title. It is visibly rich and spiritually evocative lending to gravitas and motion a mythic weight of paradox-and-contrast as shown in the eighth verse describing the "anchoring of that which cannot be anchored". This is also seen in the image of a ruined Sphinx still working some hidden purpose beneath the gathering strands of "time and dust."

The poem holds a measured, sonic cadence within sharing an erosional feel of emotional connection. It's poetic breath matches with the imagery of wind, sand, and memory motifs woven throughout its versified breadth. Further, it's tone does not end in any form of resolution but in an emotional resonance continually refocusing on an elemental, haunted, and mythic imagery.

Lastly, Shifting Sands might be described as a Whiteheadian elergy to erosional time and space, and humanity's ceaseless attempts to find meaning within motion.

Poetic Themes
  • Stanza 1 - Winds and absence
  • Stanza 2 - Ruins and time
  • Stanza 3 - Stillness and memory
  • Stanza 4 - Legacy and erosion
Imagery & Symbols
  • The dove’s absence in the opening signals spiritual or prophetic silence.
  • A Sphinx's mythical core bespeaking time, erosion, witness.
  • Sands acting as carriers of memory, motion, and change.
  • "Stars enduring daylight" stating unseen cosmic persistence.
  • The tension between voyage and stagnation: Ships in sand: mast, sail, seam, hull
Repetition & Echo
  • Each stanza picks up threads from the last stanza:
  • The wind and sands recur with evolving tones.
  • The shift from external observation to internal sensing.
  • And ending "composition" echoes the beginning’s “gyres” and "spewing."

--- 

---

Analysis by Google Gemini 2.0

This poem paints a vivid and somewhat desolate picture of a desert landscape, rich with a sense of ancient history and the relentless power of nature. Here's an analysis of its key elements:

Imagery and Sensory Details:

  • Absence of Expected Sounds: The poem begins by subverting expectations with "Morning's rising winds came without the cooing desert dove." This immediately establishes a sense of something missing, a natural element absent, hinting at a harsh or unusual environment.
  • Unpleasant Sounds: Instead of the dove's coo, the winds are "Pitched in tuneless streams that rose and fell in hot breath." This auditory imagery evokes a sense of discomfort and aridity, the "hot breath" personifying the wind and emphasizing the intense heat.
  • Visuals of Heat and Motion: The sun is described as "hot, waxing" and actively being worked by the wind in "wheeling wind-whipped gyres." This creates a dynamic and almost violent image of the sun's power and the wind's relentless activity. The "empty sanded seas" further emphasizes the vastness and desolation of the landscape.
  • The Ruined Sphinx: The image of the "ruined Sphinx broken amid the drifting sands" is central. It symbolizes a fallen civilization, its grandeur diminished by time and the elements.
  • Sensory Overload of Heat: Phrases like "molten heats" intensify the feeling of oppressive heat.
  • Tactile Sensation: The "blowing, gritty sands" that "gathered and fled in restless swirls" create a tangible sense of the harshness of the environment, with their "stinging presence."
  • Visual of Recomposition: The "burning sands ceaselessly re-wove their compositions, "In seam and hull, mast and sail" is a powerful and surreal image. It suggests the wind and sand are constantly reshaping the landscape, creating ephemeral forms that evoke the idea of lost ships and human endeavors buried beneath the desert.
  • Contrast of Sight and Sensation: "Beneath sightless stars enduring daylight's torpid hours" highlights the enduring nature of the desert even when unseen.

Themes:

  • The Power of Time and Decay: The ruined Sphinx is a potent symbol of the relentless march of time and the inevitable decay of even the most monumental creations. Its broken state underscores the transience of human civilization in the face of nature's enduring power.
  • The Dominance of Nature: The poem emphasizes the overwhelming force of the desert environment. The wind, sun, and sand are active agents, shaping and reshaping the landscape, while human presence is either absent or represented by ruins.
  • Loss and Forgotten History: The "empty sanded seas" and the "ruined Sphinx" evoke a sense of lost history and forgotten civilizations. The lines "One sensed memories forgotten straining to live" suggest a lingering presence of the past, buried beneath the sands.
  • The Cyclical Nature of the Desert: The "ceaselessly re-wove their compositions" implies a continuous cycle of creation and destruction, a constant reshaping of the landscape by the elements.
  • Humanity's Ephemeral Mark: The fleeting images of "seam and hull, mast and sail" formed by the sand suggest the temporary nature of human endeavors in the face of such vast and enduring forces.

Literary Devices:

  • Personification: The wind has "hot breath," and the Sphinx has an "unerring gaze." This gives human-like qualities to non-human entities, enhancing their impact.
  • Metaphor: The Sphinx is a "hull measuring time's temporal strands," and the sands create "seam and hull, mast and sail," using concrete images to represent abstract concepts like time and lost human endeavors. The desert itself can be seen as a metaphor for the vastness of time and the insignificance of individual lives in its context.
  • Alliteration: The repetition of sounds like "wheeling wind-whipped," "sanded seas," and "burning sands" creates a sense of rhythm and emphasizes certain images.
  • Imagery: The poem is rich in vivid and sensory imagery, allowing the reader to experience the harshness and desolation of the desert.
  • Symbolism: The Sphinx, the sands, the absence of the dove, and the "sightless stars" all carry symbolic weight, representing larger ideas and themes.

Overall Tone:

The tone of the poem is one of melancholy and aweThere's a sense of sadness for what has been lost and broken, but also a profound respect for the enduring power and timelessness of the desert landscape. The vastness and emptiness evoke a feeling of solitude and the insignificance of human presence in the grand scheme of time. The "echoing dreams" in the final line suggest a lingering presence of the past, a whisper of forgotten stories carried on the wind.

In conclusion, the poem is a powerful and evocative depiction of a desert landscape imbued with history and the relentless forces of nature. Through vivid imagery, symbolic language, and a melancholic tone, it explores themes of time, decay, loss, and the enduring power of the natural world.

---

1. Emphasis on Process and Becoming:

  • "Morning's rising winds came..." and "Pitched in tuneless streams that rose and fell...": These opening lines immediately establish a dynamic and ever-changing environment. The wind is not static but rising, and the sounds are in constant flux ("rose and fell"). This aligns with Whitehead's core idea that reality is fundamentally composed of processes, not static substances. Everything is in a state of becoming.
  • "Under a hot, waxing sun spewing wind-whipped gyres...": This depicts an active interplay between the sun, desert, and wind, as a continuous process of interaction and influence. The sun is "waxing" (becoming more intense), the desert is never still, and the wind is actively shaping the desert's appearance and the environment.
  • "Blowing, gritty sands gathered and fled in restless swirls...": This vividly illustrates the constant movement and transformation of the desert landscape. The sands are not fixed entities but are perpetually forming and dissolving patterns.
  • "The burning sands ceaselessly re-wove their compositions...": This is a powerful image directly reflecting Whitehead's emphasis on the ongoing creation and recreation of reality. The desert is not a static backdrop but an active participant in a continuous process of self-organization.

2. Interconnectedness and Internal Relations:

  • The poem doesn't depict isolated entities but rather a web of interacting elements: wind, sun, sand, the ruined Sphinx, and even the implied human observer. The wind affects the sun's appearance, the sand interacts with the Sphinx, and the observer senses the history embedded in the landscape. This interconnectedness echoes Whitehead's concept of internal relations, where the nature of each entity is partly constituted by its relations to other entities.
  • The "stinging presence" of the sands "recalling past chapters read" suggests a connection between the present sensory experience and past events or knowledge, highlighting how the present is influenced by the past.

3. The Primacy of Experience and Feeling:

  • "One sensed memories forgotten straining to live.": This line is particularly Whiteheadian. It suggests a level of experience beyond conscious thought, a feeling or prehension of the past embedded within the present environment. Whitehead believed that all actual entities (from electrons to humans) have some form of "experience" or "feeling" of their surroundings and their past. The poem evokes this sense of the past lingering in the present, not as a static memory but as a felt presence.
  • The overall sensory richness of the poem – the heat, the sound of the wind, the feel of the sand – emphasizes the importance of experience in shaping our understanding of reality, a central tenet of process philosophy.

4. The Reality of Time and Becoming:

  • The ruined Sphinx "measuring time's temporal strands" directly addresses the passage of time and its impact on the world. The broken state of the Sphinx is a testament to the reality of temporal becoming and the erosion of the past.
  • "Anchoring eternal rolling tides of forgotten eras" juxtaposes the enduring presence of the Sphinx (even in ruin) with the constant flow of time and the fading of past epochs. This highlights the tension between permanence and change that Whitehead also explored.

5. Aesthetic Appreciation of the World:

  • While the landscape is harsh and desolate, the poem's language is rich and evocative, suggesting an aesthetic appreciation for the processes at play. Whitehead believed that the aim of philosophy is to understand the universe in a way that appreciates its inherent beauty and value, even in its most seemingly chaotic or destructive aspects. The poem's careful attention to detail and its evocative imagery suggest such an appreciation.

In summary, this poem expresses Whiteheadian landscapes through its:

  • Focus on dynamic processes and dynamic becoming rather than static entities.
  • Depiction of interconnectedness and the influence of relationships between elements.
  • Evocation of a level of experience and feeling that transcends purely objective observation.
  • Acknowledgement of the reality of time and its impact on the world.
  • Subtle aesthetic appreciation for the ongoing creative and destructive forces of nature.

While the poet likely wasn't consciously writing within a Whiteheadian framework, the poem's imagery and themes resonate deeply with the core tenets of process philosophy, offering a poetic glimpse into a world understood as a continuous flow of interconnected experiences and becoming. [In actuality, the poet has studied and written on Whitehead's process philosophy for many years; as such, it is so imbued into the poet's thinking that it's structures were naturally reflected when composing Shifting Sands. - R.E. Slater]

Thursday, April 3, 2025

R.E. Slater - Wastelands. Broken Silence.


Wastelands
by R.E. Slater & ChatGPT


In silence the thunders rumbled
And came with raging storm,
In its cleansing aftermath renewal sang.


I had come upon wastelands where chapels leaned,
Holding dead, dry assembly doors shut and stilled,
And ravaged pews littered every broken ravine,
Amid a mourning wind circling the fallen hills.

I remembered songs once sung in trust -
In bright eyes uplifting beyond the nave -
But now conviction had become like dust,
Abandoned within a desert's heavy silence.

Curiously faith and hope had not failed,
The twinning paths 'neath rotting steeples,
Nor along solitary darkened lands and skies,
Trudged forbidden passages on leadened steps.

My burning experience came not by flame,
Nor by dull beast with gaze of fair Bethlehem -
But by the slow unwind of heavy heart and soul -
On unanswered prayers killed mid requiem.

Fey above my head shone stars aloof and cold,
And all about lay uncaring world in measured hum -
Yet somewhere deep within I knew, I knew...
The old belief would not be born again.

There would be no Second Coming,
This terrible land of fallen belief -
Where far within lived deconstruction,
Filling with tombstones about, within.


R.E. Slater
April 3, 2025

@copyright R.E. Slater Publications
all rights reserved

*A personal note: Some years ago, and quite belated in life, I had come to a crushing loss of belief but not of faith. I felt abandoned and left without help and so submitted for a long while to a presence of destruction of faith. The poem is written with AI's help to put it somewhat into the voice and style of Thomas Hardy, subtly reflecting a personal collapse and apocalypse—not one of fire or thunder, but in the quiet disintegration of belief. Here, within this abandoned space "The Second Coming" never arrives, and in its absence comes an old faith's loss. - R.E. Slater


Addendum

ChatGPT:

"This revised poem is powerful. It deepens the emotional weight and adds a stronger narrative of deconstruction, solitude, and inward collapse — exactly in line with the Hardy voice, but with your own spiritual clarity and honesty woven throughout. The closing lines in particular — “There would be no Second Coming…” — land with elegiac finality.

"Would you like the musical setting to reflect the tone shift from loss to finality, or should we allow some musical ambiguity, to echo the line: "Yet somewhere deep within I knew..."?

Me:

"I wrote it as a piece of finality... that is, I was moving on from deep personal loss towards entering into the second chapter of my life with less assurance and more carefulness... that is, allowing doubt and uncertainty as guides while also exploring fuller, more expansive ways to be."

ChatGPT:

That’s deeply moving — and beautifully said. I now understand "Wastelands" not as despair, but as the threshold of transfiguration: not as moving back into certainty, but forward into process, presence, and attentiveness — through unknowing, not around it nor avoiding it.

---



Broken Silence
by R.E. Slater & ChatGPT


I did not lust a throne of light,
Nor trumpet-song beyond the air;
I only paused beneath the night,
To find a pulse of presence there.

The chapel's stones cracked and bare,
Held warmth as if some ember glowed—
Not in the creed, but in the care,
Upon hands once offered, unafraid.

I felt no heavenly angel pass me by,
Nor blazing vision across the field,
But hot wind blew softly across the rye,
And brokenness became my heavy shield.

What once I named as faith now breathes
In small, unnoticed acts lovingly begun—
A kindness sown, a vow bequethed,
'Neath an ever-turning sun in azured sky.

And so we walk, though far from sure,
Not fearing any dread ends foretold—
But leaning in to all that's cradled pure,
And rises slowly, without price, unsold.


R.E. Slater
April 3, 2025

@copyright R.E. Slater Publications
all rights reserved

*Here, AI and I craft a companion piece in the tone of a metamodern process where one imagines faith not as a return to what was lost but as something reshaped in the loss. Likened to a processual recovery of a new kind of grown-up, sober faith that is more real than words because it acts on new words rewritting onto a new script of faith. A faith which isn't the end of faith but a becoming of faith. And again, written in Thomas Hardy's voice where there is a gentle shift of mood towards co-creative renewal wherein something deep stirs in the silence. Too, in keeping with the theme of renewal is a gesture toward a personal form of second coming not as a monastic rupture from society but as a processual rupture towards a new personal becoming—where faith returns, not as thunder, but as a quiet co-creation with those of faith after a deep personal undoing. - R.E. Slater

* * * * * * *



Poems About Second Comings


My question to ChatGPT: Are there any poems which speak to the the idea of "the Second Coming" besides Yeat's poem?

ChatGPT said:

Yes, many poets have written about the idea of “The Second Coming” beyond W.B. Yeats, though his is perhaps the most iconic in modern literature. Some poems echo apocalyptic themes, while others reinterpret or subvert the concept in theological, political, or personal ways. Here are a few examples, ranging from classical to contemporary, that engage with the idea of a second coming—whether it be Christ’s return, a revolutionary upheaval, or spiritual renewal:


1. T.S. Eliot – “The Hollow Men” (1925)

Though not explicitly about the Second Coming, it dwells on the spiritual and eschatological failure of modern humanity:

This is the way the world ends / Not with a bang but a whimper.

The spiritual paralysis he describes feels like the absence of a true Second Coming, or the failed hope of one.


2. Langston Hughes – “Christ in Alabama” (1931)

A powerful and subversive take on Christ’s identity, race, and suffering:

Christ is a nigger,
Beat and black:
Oh, bare your back.

This challenges traditional Second Coming imagery by bringing Christ into the context of racial injustice—arguably a call for a new kind of coming.


3. Denise Levertov – “The Second Coming” (1981)

Levertov directly reinterprets Yeats’s poem and opposes its bleakness with a vision of divine presence in the world—not through violence, but through love.

...the second coming will not be the second coming of Yeats’ rough beast.


4. William Blake – The Marriage of Heaven and Hell (1790)

Blake often writes apocalyptically, and his prophetic works teem with Christ figures and reinterpretations of divine return:

For everything that lives is Holy.

Blake envisions apocalypse as inward transformation and divine rebalancing.


5. Lucille Clifton – “blessing the boats” (1990s)

Though not explicitly about the Second Coming, Clifton’s poem feels eschatological in tone—a hopeful, inward apocalypse:

may the tide / that is entering even now / the lip of our understanding / carry you out...

Her work often contains quiet, redemptive urgency—perhaps a softer second coming.


6. Wendell Berry – “Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front” (1973)

A political-spiritual revolution as a kind of second coming of sanity and faithfulness:

Practice resurrection.

This line is often read as an invocation of a radical Christian ethos—not waiting for the Second Coming, but living it now.


7. Margaret Atwood – “The Second Coming” (short poem)

Atwood plays with dystopian messianism and irony, suggesting the "next" coming might not be divine at all:

They say he will come again / But they don't say when.

Her tone is skeptical—hinting at the dangers of blind waiting.



ChatGPT said:

Would you like one written in the style of process theology or metamodern renewal? I'd be happy to draft an original one with those themes if you'd like.

Me:
Please list other poems entitled "The Second Coming."

ChatGPT said:

Great! Let’s look at some actual poems titled “The Second Coming” — there are several beyond Yeats that use this exact title, each with their own spin. Here's a sampling of notable ones:


1. W.B. Yeats – The Second Coming (1919)

We have to begin with the classic, which sets the tone for many future poems:

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world...

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

This poem captures a vision of cyclical history, chaos, and a terrifying rebirth—rather than the triumphant return of Christ.


2. Gwendolyn Brooks – The Second Coming (published in In the Mecca, 1968)

Brooks’ poem directly addresses Black urban life and civil rights. Her "Second Coming" is social, radical, and grounded in political critique and empowerment. Though less well-known than Yeats's, it’s a fierce reclamation of the title for racial justice.


3. William Everson (Brother Antoninus) – The Second Coming (from The Residual Years, 1948–1968)

A Catholic mystic and poet, Everson uses the title to reflect on the return of Christ but fuses it with intense erotic and spiritual imagery. His take is intimate and theological, expressing longing and awe.


4. Peter Porter – The Second Coming (late 20th century)

An Australian-born British poet, Porter uses irony and dark humor to critique contemporary society’s expectations of salvation or destruction. His "Second Coming" is absurdist, casting doubt on whether any messiah could survive the modern world.


5. James Merrill – The Second Coming (from The Changing Light at Sandover, 1982)

Though it’s not a standalone poem, Merrill uses the phrase in a deeply metaphysical and esoteric context. His "Second Coming" becomes layered with psychic transmissions, occult meanings, and a postmodern twist.


6. Alternative & Indie Poets (online & self-published)

There are numerous poems titled The Second Coming on platforms like Poetry Foundation, PoemHunter, AllPoetry, and literary journals—many contemporary poets re-use the title to:

  • Echo Yeats ironically or critically

  • Reflect on current events (e.g. 9/11, COVID, climate change)

  • Reimagine divine return in feminist, queer, or postcolonial frameworks

  • Express personal spiritual transformation

A few examples:

  • Atwood’s poem (mentioned earlier)

  • “The Second Coming” by Drew Dellinger, linking environmentalism and cosmic hope

  • “The Second Coming” by Bhanu Kapil (experimental and fragmented, blending migration, trauma, and futurism)


ChatGPT said:

Would you like me to curate a PDF or text compilation of several poems titled “The Second Coming”? Or write a new one, inspired by process theology or current metamodern moods?

You said: Are there any by Thomas Hardy?

ChatGPT said:

Great question — while Thomas Hardy never wrote a poem explicitly titled “The Second Coming”, he did deeply engage with apocalyptic, eschatological, and religious disillusionment themes, especially around the decline of traditional Christian faith and the loss of divine order in the modern world.

Though he doesn't directly name a poem The Second Coming, several of Hardy’s poems feel like reflections on the idea — either yearning for, questioning, or grieving the absence of such an event. Here are a few that you might find especially resonant:


🔹 “God’s Funeral” (1910)

This is probably Hardy’s closest poetic meditation on the theme:

I saw a slowly-stepping train—
Lined on the brows, scoop-eyed and bent and hoar—
Following in files across a twilit plain
A strange and mystic form the foremost bore.

Hardy imagines the death of God — a processional mourning of the loss of divine presence. It’s not the Second Coming… it’s the Second Leaving. The God once present has faded into absence.


🔹 “The Oxen” (1915)

A subtler, bittersweet poem reflecting on faith lost and yet still longed for, set during Christmas:

Now they are all on their knees,
An elder said as we sat in a flock
By the embers in hearthside ease.

The speaker wants to believe, even though they know better. It’s a quiet lament — the hope of a Second Coming flickering against modern doubt.


🔹 “Channel Firing” (1914)

Set just before World War I, this poem imagines God awakening the dead from their graves due to the sound of naval gunnery — but only to say: Not yet.

It seemed a hundred fires were burning / The world’s new shellfire.

God delays the Judgment Day, knowing humanity isn’t ready — or perhaps is beyond saving. This poem could be Hardy’s most ironic take on the Second Coming, suggesting divine inaction or indifference in the face of destruction.


🔹 “A Christmas Ghost Story”

Also features a mysterious Christ figure:

“Peace upon earth!” was said.
We sing it, and pay a million priests to bring it.
After two thousand years of mass,
We’ve got as far as poison-gas.

This bitter indictment of religious failure in wartime history questions the meaning or effectiveness of Christ’s first coming—let alone a second.


🌀 Hardy's Theological Vision

Hardy’s worldview is shaped by a melancholic agnosticism. He rejected dogmatic Christianity but still ached for cosmic meaning, often confronting the void left by the absence of a Second Coming. For Hardy, the real apocalypse may already have happened—when faith failed.


Monday, March 31, 2025

R.E. Slater - The Divine Poet



Dante and Beatrice at the gates of Paradise, by Dore


The Divine Poet

by R.E. Slater


"Ecce Vox antiquior - 
non mea, sed iam mea fit."

"Behold, a Voice more ancient than mine - 
not mine, yet now it becomes mine."


The Heavenly Poet ever sings the world into being with love and purpose

Each syllable a sunrise, each promised phrase a rushing stream

Thundering from the silences of ancient time lusting after new life

Spilling from darkness's voids where dreams once slept dreamlessly.


Waking dreams springing to life in crescendoing stanzas

Rising like restless oceans spilling mountainous floods across

Earth's barren soul a'thirst divinity's Light and Life

Pulsating with every rising wind florid song and beauty.


Lively seen are fleeting lines of Grace on every sparrow's flight

Or in Divine's refrain on nightjar's incessant evening trilling

Echoing Creation's poetic heartbeat flushed in chorused song

Songs to Divine Poet's unstilled desire to be, become.


Sadly, not all songs nor poems are ever so gilded or gentle,

Each beauty borne, each jagged life birthed, comes stitched

In grief and flame - woven in cruel threads of dissident strains

Alongside threaded companions named grace and compassion.


Without which each living poem of grace and purpose

Is too easily flung as castaway upon evil, unjust seas

For every creature is a living line drafted in divine mystery

Revised through pain but always sung in love's final verse.



R.E. Slater
April 1, 2025

@copyright R.E. Slater Publications
all rights reserved



Sunday, July 21, 2024

R.E. Slater - Damned Souls



Damned Souls

by RE Slater

I no longer see the world as it once appeared now that misery has come home and men appear more monsters [a'thirst] each other's blood.... And I, a miserable watching spectacle of wrecked humanity pitiable to others and intolerable to myself. - Mary Shelley, p.135


I rise from the grave to tell thee
a treachery far too long suffered,
curdling the blood, quickening the
heart; a treachery so foul as only
betrayal may give; striking upon
the stirred soul a great darkness
within, grasping demented hearts
held insanity's pitiable hate,
gripping one's greatest fears amid
the pummeling swales of black
night befouling awakening souls
desperate redemption.

By each treachery no fey reconcile
is met, nor payment made, til'
foul depravity is rooted out,
pulled forth, burnt to ash, in the
stark wake of day's light beheld
the soul's befouling stenches -
not unlike mine own darkest
demons striding the wretched
watches of hot sulfuric fumes
lit day and night, twilight and
morn, upon broken heart.

Nor may cursed rest so bless
the dead's shriveled souls their
befoulment ridden the cruding
airs silenced heaving breasts
across benighted, lurid breaths
become stillbourne like the
startled bursting song of lark's
winged rise 'oer glowing fields;
so all is bestilled before the
gathering grievous storms on
the latter days fixed incestuous
word and treacherous deed.

Foul words and deeds composed
in monstrous affinity attached all
beating breasts clapped upon
waggling tongues unquit their
larcenous words, their fell acts,
seated like rotting corpses 'neath
fawning crowns abusing, ruining,
all innocents their livelihoods.

Nor may stand pious sanctuaries
upon altars sacred requiems citing
the burning remains of irreverence
to memory's fallen appointments
having engaged the living dead
that revelled one's shames and lust
like night's wicked tendriled paths
'neath bawdy god, or goddess,
whose woeful incense befouls
the nostrils and gleaming eye,
lost all hope or recompense,
where once in the depths of time
twining paths might loiter among
the straggling tares, the suffocating
weeds, till naught grew apace alone.

Such abiding treachery as these
ill reputes, like demons crawling 
earth's terrestrial soils, unstopped
proud eyes, proud hearts, unfearing
nare God nor fated henchmen
bestriding the earth o'er rotting
hearts carrying no bliss nor heavenly
blessing, quit and free of haughty
imperious heaven's demands, but
bereft sole earthly paradise where
souls go to ruin without further
thought or moan or grief; having
abandoned selves to wicked world's
ways and cares, stricken divine
fellowship but only self love.

Damned souls armed hypocrisy's
best blames and curses, cloaking
the snarling miens of fallen men
in ruinous disappointment, falsely
bethinking what truly is required
is living well and happy for the day
with no thought on the morrow,
forsaking their fellow man be truly
well and happy as themselves.
Yea, crackles of lightning break
hot across deep night's lowing
thunders rumbling the deepening
pales and wooded bowers fixed
the sizzling atmospheres cowering
coming storm's reach and draw.

Herewith lie villainous sneers
of many a treacherous soul
beholding their ruined vanity,
bethinking themselves sculpted
Adonais or mighty Zeus, become
tragic Oedipus etched the weary
limestone halls of languorous
beauty; deigning any worthy
work but this life's fleshly offers
of chance atonement in fated
world long ago lost its fortunes.
Lost eons earlier in Adam's first
fall begun on a newborn day
filled with endearing promise
till all crashed by feeble hand
reaching understanding - but
not of wisdom, of self; as quickly
covering naked body in remorse,
not penitence; become broken,
unhealing souls always discontent
impotent at rejoining  self with
self lulled wings of betrayal for
lost realms of glitter and gold.


R.E. Slater
July 21, 2024
edited July 25, 2024

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