MOANING PHAROAHS

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(Part ten of a ten-poem story-arc. From the "Carnal Forgeries" series.)



MOANING PHAROAHS
(Mammals, Pt. 2)

I'm alone again, but then, you know.
And in the end, I've learned
That nothing is worth the plunge.
Madness is a dead ringer for love,
The laughing tsar, a moaning pharoah,
The second death that's burned
Since Eve offered Adam lunch,
And all we are ever dreaming of.

The damage that is due--the damage done,
And the scars across my back,
The eyes that seek to spite me...
All the product of another will,
Another mind and its dominion.
Yet I longed for its attack,
The scapegoat that it lends me.
It's the sweetest drug, the bitter pill.

We are the children of God, some say.
Only a Father would know.
We're given to what heaven sent,
And the pain of feeling alone.
We're only mammals, anyway...
Controlled by the voice we know:
Nature's call, scent of decent,
The midnight cry, the pharoah moan.


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THE MORNING AFTER

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(Part nine of a ten-poem story-arc. From the "Carnal Forgeries" series.)



THE MORNING AFTER

Lovers, liars, funeral pyres...
The jigsaw pieces of a corpse dismembered...
The crystal, razored shards you step on:
Shattered faith, a heart of glass.
Our house is much the same, as I remember.
Raw, bloody feet stepped past a heart more tender.
Now only larger stones to be thrown
Shall I ever truly desire...
As I sweep the shattered past.



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DRY DIVE

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(Part eight of a ten-poem story-arc. From the "Carnal Forgeries" series.)



DRY DIVE

My fingers through your dark hair,
The wind soaring through mine...
The taste of smitten lips
Has become synonymous
With asphalt smitten harder.
Love is the harder line...
But the final line to cross
Is made of chalk and bliss.

Painted into a corner,
Then painted over like a stain
By a shade that would grace your nails--
Cute as Cupid, yet black as Baal.
Love is not your color...
And your walls are peeling again.
You sent a card, but God sends quail...
Love, I've found a better way to sail.

I worshipped a God above,
And a goddess far below.
I worshipped the ground you walked on...
Baby, now I'll kiss it head on.
May the ocean of our love
Prove far deeper than we know.
Your dress as scarlet as the dawn...
Love? Lust? Spite? Going...going...gone.


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HORSEFLY KISSES

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(Part seven of a ten-poem story-arc. From the "Carnal Forgeries" series.)



HORSEFLY KISSES


My Love, I feel, I want, I need...
My love I bleed--
Where Cupid's arrows missed,
The Devil shot on sight.
Oh God, it swarms, it bites...
It swarms in passion's midst.
It swarms in passion's mist.
It swarms amidst delight...
Oh God...it feeds--
It feeds on my delight.

My insides coil, they whirl, they shard...
My love, so hard--
Righteous weapons, unholy wars:
A war of nerves, of lust, of bliss...
Swelling shadows that thrive on this.
Beneath love's shadow, I adore.
Beneath your shadow, giving more...
Red roses you'll hold, you'll cherish,
And then discard--
Red roses for the flies to kiss.


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IDOLATRY

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(Part six of a ten-poem story arc. From the "Carnal Forgeries" series.)


IDOLATRY

I looked and then I lusted,
As an elder object of worship
Was gone from sight (and thus, from mind).
As steel faith within rusted,
I would steal faith and more that night.
It was idolatry...
Once-sailing love, now a sinking ship--
As a veil within me swiftly ripped.
My new goddess before me
Began to dance, to sway, to strip...

The day love was accosted--
That day the demons swore to me,
"God is love, and love is for all!"
I wept because I'd lost it.
The wild had more to do than call.
Idolatry? Adultery?
It's all the same, honestly...
I betrayed one angel freely
On a silken, rumpled altar
Before the God who sent her to me.


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About me

  • I'm GABRIEL C. ZOLMAN
  • From Hell, Arrakis, United States
  • "If words could kill a man, I'd bury you."
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