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Angel Fire

                                     Angel Fire

 

 

            I am the fret the favour the flowing

Glowering freefall fantasy you’re desiring

Rising out of ashes like the phoenix

Teasing wilfully the Icarus

Who flies for want of glory into

Fires held as light,

 

I am the old forever young I am the slayer

Of the horseman, I am the murderer

Of assassins I am disturbed by what you term

As sanity, I am clarity I am obscure

I am the two headed bird of Eastern Europe

I am Bulgaria, Narnia,

 

I am black and white and red and blue

I am desiring your false sincerity

I am gold and green and lean within

A pocket only knowing poverty,

And robbery is not my name but man

I know it well,

 

I am lowering what you call a standard

By feigning gain in future absence

I am abstract and classical and presently

In peaceful danger.

 

I am the clock you take the chance upon a tic

I am the toc that lost that chance I am

The prankster the gangster the

Cheapest most expensive trick you’ll

Ever lose,

 

I am the child upon the bruise

I am nothing but a ruse

A ruse to take a demon back to

Where it one did hail,

                        I am righting those

You branded to bring a simple grandiose

I’m arduous and valiant whilst cowering

In view.

 

I am the reality of the high brow

The waste considered talented

By high clowns – the lyrically drowned

By old conforming norms that cripple

All integrity of art.

 

I am your saviour and save ya,

Flavouring the morsels of causals

The corpses the tallest the smallest

The infinitesimal of small talk

A warlord a warlock who’ll strain a higher

Intellect with introspections of the tongue,

 

Wronged rhymed shined and

Shot!

 

Shoooooooooooooooooooooo!

 

            Two sides tease a talented woe,

            But there is no point tossing

            Coinage for victors unless

            Within deceit you’re prepared to go to hell,

            I can be on the edge,

            On the edge with my stiff little finger,

            I know it well,

            For I roll like shadows under moon

            And all I have seen,

            Gives a certain vantage

            In states you call Noetic

            For all I have endured ensured

            My ego, left many fantasies behind.

            Behind walls built by what you call your faith,

            Faith that took many days of life,

            Life you know you wouldn’t live

            For all the purse of kingdom come,

            My ego left many years ago,

            Eating mine own excrement

            And licking dog piss off the sweets

            That melted in a drought of poverty

            Created by your wealth,

            Sculpted men in uniform have no Ego,

            But pride in having compassion to

            Pass the knowledge they have gained,

            But still you never learn

           

 

I am the Fret, a Noetic-fret!

A chord that rises discord of your self,

I am the man who dodged the bullet from the rifle

I am the poor with which your wallet cradles

I am the ladle feeding your own shit,

Back upon itself

I’ll rub it in your face for you to swallow

And hope within this land you’ll realize that all

Upon this Earth are doing you a favour

In practising the roles that give you your status

A status that your very keen to claim

            I have pride in who I am for I have never

            Left the ground for you,

            With all your falsehoods in what you call

            An intellect,

            Only seek to keep integrity,

            And value on a frown,

            You brutalize sincerity

            Trample every casualty

You’ll create laws that bang all honesty to rights,

            And in appealing to your senses

            I’m hoping that you’ll once again

            Find yourself within a prayer,

            But you’ll never once be recognised

            While pleading for your soul,

            For there be more than just yourself to be aware,

 

                                    Taking toll on angels

Is the life that never lived,

And living isn’t living

When your only occupation is forgive,

           

You’ll never leave The Earth,

You’ll never leave The Earth,

You’ll never leave The Earth.

 

 

Noetic-fret! 12th June 2010. 

◄ My Wife and Child

Where is the Man Upstairs? ►

Comments

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Ann Foxglove

Mon 14th Jun 2010 08:06

A very powerful poem. I like your reading too, but I don't feel clever enough to know what the poem is about. But I enjoyed reading/listening.

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