poetry = nonsense
nonsense = meaninglessness
meaninglessness = void
void = nothingness
nothingness = spirit

Moloch old Moloch, my friend so majestic monolithic and unmovable lungs of raging fire heart of deepest malice old Moloch who loathes men — calls for babes as offering thou starest at me silently whilst I reminisce about thee Moloch my ancient companion where hast mine mother gone who spake to me of thee? whose heart, in her fragile life so strongly longed for the Father? thy nostrils flare, old Moloch but to no avail for she has gone thine eyes refulgent, but blind for the sight of her, beyond reach in the brilliant light of the Father yet we remain an old daemon from the K’na a shadow maker destined for the lake of fire [21 VIII 2019]
Copyright © 2011 Erick Calder
All Rights Reserved
« prev | index | next »