posted on May 7, 2013 at 6:28 pm
attenuated span

attenuated span

golgotha has a beat and a thundering silence

all those skulls ….humanity continues to outdo itself

madness has always prevailed

anxious destructive madness

official madness

stuff they get us to do

the reasons are always lies we always get killed

the net and the spear

the short sharp sword

the thrust like a lover

yes

snatch an arrow from the air…oh too late…!

in some italian film glorifying Romes indifferent kings

a footsoldier a footnote

a foot below water in some moat

some florentine dagger

or a shot from a musket

a random sense of disproportion

the emperor in his bath of milk

us lot in our bath of blood

we came for christian mystery mercy and to kill some bastard

man my wounds go bad under this sun

my wand is my cross is my little knife

little bird charmer my chafing armour

i sleep on bibles and eat their ghostly words

we fellows down here in the courtyard

us men in the marshes

the boys in the sea

the wine is thick and red

slosh it down and burns delightfully

one day i will own land in burgundy…

 

 

 

 

13 Responses to “poem for a dead language”

  1. avatar
    Chris | 7 May 2013 at 6:36 pm #

    Visceral and full of prophetic portent….a dark and brooding season?

  2. avatar
    Chris | 7 May 2013 at 7:03 pm #

    Latino bardic lament…

  3. avatar
    Kohl Ette | 7 May 2013 at 7:35 pm #

    MORNING SHOWER
    after night lightning and
    air shaft dramas
    rainfall hydrating all states
    in cocoon safe
    I drew light calico
    drapes revealing
    clean peace dove view with
    green dripping renewed
    hope of lifting soon
    and not becoming set in
    but thanking for
    sating interlude
    a balance of
    crisp bright dryness
    and glistening drink
    with fresh sprung food.

  4. avatar
    Boriah | 7 May 2013 at 9:23 pm #

    I was swimming in the dead sea 4 days ago and I could see the mount of olives from there. It was impossible to dive due the high density of the water (35% of salt content), you just can only float. Went to visit the mount Nebo too, where Moses did behold the promise land. I think those places would surely inspire you to write new poems and songs.
    Cheers!
    A

  5. Jmb066
    Jmb066 | 7 May 2013 at 10:14 pm #

    Steve,

    Hope you are doing well, got my Double disc version of You Are Everything today and taking it all in. So far I am loving it. Not a shock I am sure. I am so happy that Knowing You Are In This World is there twice. I was also going to download some stuff form your site here and was wondering if my SKP membership has expired? If it has let me know and I will update accordingly.

    Take Care,

    Jason

  6. avatar
    andy | 7 May 2013 at 10:33 pm #

    are we doomed to repeat this forever?
    the meek ain’t going to inherit shit i’m afraid………
    big gobs and iron fists win the day as usual.

    • avatar
      Anonymous | 8 May 2013 at 1:35 pm #

      shoosh u! We dont need 2 inherit this 1. We get a new 1.

  7. avatar
    Anonymous | 7 May 2013 at 11:39 pm #

    a pineal longitude via latitude is a privateer’s journey; but what if the world really was sideways? wouldn’t the coordinates be reversed? in the meanwhile, i’m still thinking: sometimes it happens.

  8. avatar
    Anonymous | 8 May 2013 at 12:08 am #

    Past…Present…Gothic

  9. avatar
    Anonymous | 8 May 2013 at 2:22 pm #

    May 8th 2013
    You understand the depth of it all. I see you in your garden in showering light, as a rock so endurable, as strong as even myself. In your light, in your darkness, always so baroque in your chiaroscuro belief or simply routine. Dealing with the opposites. Coming or not coming and yet always coming. The melancholy of intelligence, reading where most eyes don’t go, perceiving more than you can ever know. I feel our minds in unison, same idiom, dead or alive. It’s an intersection of agony and stillness. We can’t stop to follow the path of understanding. Even if everything’s collapsing around us. I feel the door is slowly opening with its distinctive creaking. It’s the wood of ages but agile hands handle all centuries. For the seconds that are still to come. Our immaterial world is best but we’re here now. Here here.
    When your money’s all gone your love’s been sold.

  10. avatar
    Kohl Ette | 11 May 2013 at 11:23 am #

    Love of money is not love. Sad how living with a partner in my experience can often be reduced to issues about filthy lucre, no matter how rich (I can only imagine), joe average or poor. Sad how trying to live independently for a woman can be made so difficult by society. Many things are not simple. Ideally it would be wonderful if they were but – perhaps individuals can only pray for the epiphany when simple ideals becomes reality and are embraced. A bit like sk spontaneously becoming a vegetarian at the age of 17 I believe.


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