Supernatural Poetry

Here are five poems,-what I call-death and supernatural poems. Perhaps a bit bizarre, a few stanzas may be, but with unfailing subtlety of course, and a ting of acuteness, but we have to hag on if we want a good ride:

1.

Evil's Creation

Thou knowith evil clings

To tender peace-;

Nor does it heed one's drowsy

Un-enthralled grief?

But softly it darkens

Twilight's dunes-;

With sprinkling shadows

Straight from the moon.

O Night! Who giveth birth?

To Evils plight?

As mighty murmurs

Reached my breast?:

"His name has no beginning

And no end?!"

But why?! O why?

Everlasting King,

Have you created?!

Such a thing?

As mighty murmurs

Reached my breast?:

"To see, whom you love

The very best!..."

#609 4/1/05

2.

The First Depth

Struggling against unrestful skies

The warlords of eternal darkness

-unseen to life's obvious eyes-

Ebb and seek the prize, dominion!

'The First depth,' the silence of the deep

Eternal legions with unrestful eyes

The Abysses storm, uncircumcised

The colossal ramparts now untied

'The First Depth,' with rival skies

Here, gathers demonic and divine

Now with storms, once hidden beyond

Armies of defense, build their saga

And I saw dreadful swords like suns

Thunder and lightening by Orion

This was the tidings of cosmic doom

If only man could have seen the gloom.

And the echoes I heard from the stars

Unnamed, immortal flames cast down

Gathered on earth for the final countdown

Armageddon's titanic onset!...

#610 [4/2/04]

3.

Satan's Daisies

Walk slowly, he is near

Above the clouds;

Talk softly, he can hear

Our venom mouths!

With his dark charcoal horns

And plotted lust,

He that was once fair

Is after us!

#612 [4/3/05]

4.

The Iron Raven

"You cannot escape, debased death

(Says the axiomatic, Iron Raven,

Who delivers the dead)-

My imperishable Icons?!

Die, you shall, exhumed someday-."

Fame is no exception, to the Raven,

He seals fate, in ignoble ways!

#611 [4/3/05]

5.

The Marble Tomb

'Twill be the same, the same

(I told him, when he was living),

A wood or marble tomb-

In a hundred years, let's say

Or a hundred so called days

What matters to he,

(He will be dead)-?

A pompous monument

Will be of no good-yet

He built it out of Marble

(Nonetheless), not wood!

Your name will be forgotten

Amongst the rubbish and roots

O'er rotting dampness; and

Who will clean your tomb?

(I asked him all these things

Before he died; and he never

Did reply-and built his tomb

Of marble, admiring its size!)

You-in there, in that tomb?!

You cannot hear a thing-!!!!!

And out here they're building

Yes?another mausoleum

For another rich man?!

#613 [4/3/04]

Poet and Author, Dennis L. Siluk: will be going to Lima, Peru tomorrrow [and the mountians],and to Central America [Copan] thereafter, for a month to find more poetry to write about...and the secrets that reside in its soil...!

http://dennissiluk.tripod.com

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