The Disturbed and The Absurd
Dark little poem.
Careful as you slumber, the horror and the wonder
Leaves you crippled, your sheets pull you under
Can you hear Death darkening at your front door
Taunting like the lusty lilliths of lore
In the realm of the disturbed and the absurd
Lines between fantasy and reality are blurred
In the hall of the depraved and the enslaved
Lines between insanity and sanity are blurred
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About the Creator
Paul Stewart
Scottish-Italian poet/writer from Glasgow.
Overflowing in English language torture and word abuse.
"Every man has a sane spot somewhere" R.L Stevenson
The Accidental Poet - Poetry Collection is now available!
https://paulspoeticprints.etsy.com
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A Flower Song
Apparently the Aztecs, Toltecs, Chichimecs and other Mexica were crazy about poetry. Despite the book-burning, slaughter, and epidemics that characterized the early stages of the Spanish conquest of the empires of Mexico, some hundreds of poems from the height of their tradition come down to us in Classical Nahuatl, preserved by Nahua and Spanish scholars of the 16th century. One of the most famous poets, Nezahualcoyotl, was a sage-king who opposed the cult of human sacrifice associated with Tezcatlipoca, God of the Smoking Mirror, and favored Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent. Flowers and feathers were the favorite offering of the Plumed Serpent. Moreover, flowers and feathers are a metaphor for poetry. Individual words, scattered petals, the down of tropical birds. The temples of blood sacrifice could be transformed into temples of flower and song. A sublimated offering to the Heart of Earth and the Heart of Sky encapsulated in the Classical Nahuatl kenning for poetry: in xōchitl in cuīcatl, meaning, "the flower and the song." The following poem is part of a longer work, and is in a state of flux, so take the waters as they flow:
By Rob Angeli2 days ago in Poets
Comments (6)
We are all disturbed and absurd, some of us just hide it better. I write crazy disturbing things, can't let boring win us all. You write to the point, damn us all if we disagree. Bravo.
Great poem. Really well done.
This is me as a child when I was terrified of the dark. Now the terrors no longer come at night. They come as I watch or read the daily news, hear the commentaries so willing to scapegoat anyone else so long as the blame does not accrue to them or to those they covet, then hear those things parroted by friends, neighbors & loved ones. It weighs down my heart & soul until hope is almost suffocated.
Amazing!
Great piece Paul ❤️😉👣
Excellent!