By Benjamin Rose
The stage is set with stargazer lilies,
Garbed with candles in semblance of a wake.
I have renounced the fury of Reading
And skinned the sun of my wearied desires.
I have exchanged the warmth for a darkness
Void of sensation, pockmarked and cold,
To best my bane: the abdominal malady
Stricken and striving through my burning bowels
Like Jupiter’s raptor high on the crag
Of the Caucuses making a feast of Forethought.
The poet’s speech is alien to me;
My raging passion snarls ineffable.
All hordes anoint me their prophet and king
Unasked for. I scorn the pissings of men
Each on his bloodspattered plot of terrain
Raving with rape and the thrill of abuse.
Plankton and thugs parroting my cadence
Drip with misogyny, voyeurs to crime;
Fools who condemn themselves by my anthems,
Insects and incels, fascistic vermin.
With screams I delve the deepening abyss,
Rallying the wretched young men served in bleach:
Renounce your privilege. Sons of the Axe,
Suffer your trial by anarchy and fire.
The strings are sharp against my thin fingers;
The air is mellow with solace and dread.
And all my formulated infinities
Gleam in the light of the pale chandelier.
In husks of the sun I seek my serenity
Lone with the living and laureate dead.
Fate coils around my neck a lariat
Cold as the churn of the carceral year.
Each fading day is a new diminution.
Each revolution awakened to shame,
There is no refuge nor substitution;
Mend the heart ruined and lonely with pain.
Mend the heart ruined and loaded with loathing
Deep in the shivering fathoms of fear.
Deep in the shivering paths of the pines
Lend me the silence and sight of the seer.
Benjamin Rose is a poet based in Washington D.C. He attends The Catholic University Of America, and his work has appeared in The Dillydoun Review, The Button Eye Review, and Beyond Words Literary Magazine.