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  • RICHARD WILSON MOSS

    SongSoptok | 2/15/2016 |




    UPHEAVAL

    (This poem was inspired by 'Darkness' by Lord Byron)

    A malcontented earth will not make room
    For the falling leaves anymore
    Pine needles retaliate
    Slicing straight into the ground
    The world buckles
    And will not keep the trees anymore
    Shaking off the firm hold of their roots
    They would gladly fall and rot
    But the earth won’t have them
    So they stand and teeter in the wind
    Dead groundless root enraged.

    Rivers seas lakes ponds throw all their life upon the leafless banks
    They spit these infestations back onto beaches and banks
    And everything would gladly rot
    And wonderfully stink
    But the earth wants less of flesh
    Than it does with the now comically wobbling angry dying trees
    So it bends to toss
    All these bewildered lumps of life
    Back into the worldly fluids
    And such stubborn waters catch them
    But to fling them back
    So a constant hurling back and forth begins.

    The planet itself refuses to look at the moon anymore
    And whips it off into the sun
    But the sun wants less of a dry dead world
    Than it does of a wet green icy arrogant stone
    So the moon makes for a different world
    But none will have it
    So in the deaf cold of empty space
    The moon somehow rings with a groan and a wail
    And wanders away
    All the planets with satellites
    Dismiss all their moons
    And they soundlessly yip and yelp
    With the bloodied tones of a dry fleshy bell
    And wander away.

    And now the sun strains to burn the brightest and hottest of all
    To incinerate all the surrounding annoying dying debris
    But all the worlds merely wilt a little
    Not like flowers but like weeds scrubbed with boiling dew
    They back off and off soon freezing solid
    Solemnly they crack and quake
    Sink back into the shadows of their own crystallized shapes
    And wander away.

    Even now the stars amidst the galaxy
    Rush to meet and clash and fall down
    On the hard bottom of the galactic spiral
    Like exquisite dinner plates dropped from a mile high
    No clatter heard nothing shattering
    Only the noiseless spew of ceramic dust
    Thus the spray of a stellar mist
    Anoints its own desolation.

    All dissolving galaxies seek the emptiness at crazy speeds
    Completely intolerant of each other
    Gassy splashes of crowded heat
    Seeking the coolness of dissipation
    And at long last stellar extinction.

    Such infinite clusters that once chatted
    About their own bright nude stars
    Now scream over which way to go
    And confuse and flustered
    Collide and tear each other apart
    So the universe once entire of itself
    Is now the fragments of its own revulsion
    Everything in it is repelled by everything in it
    Each quark rebels
    The atom is out
    Nothing in
    To bind is a sin
    So everything is useless
    The animal of matter and energy declawed
    The thrust of the lusty skies above all the iced worlds desexed
    Everything's out
    Not just dead but out
    Gone
    Nothing’s around.

    Until the thing least allowed
    Born of the union of the last thought and the last thoughtless tear
    Pulls up once again to the missing curb
    Climbs out and spits
    And smiles
    It is the all
    Whore and pimp and john
    Ugly and callous and foolish and fat
    The most despicable thing least allowed
    Has come to make order
    And quickly and truly and orderly
    It is the death of beauty.


    [RICHARD WILSON MOSS]

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