Salve the Bones: A Poem in Black

Shit. And to think, I could make money off of this, but no, I'm giving it away for free because I love my readers. Huzzah. And if the formatting (words in black) looks fucked...sorry. At least you can read the words and that's the important thing, isn't it?

 

"Salve the Bones"

 

As I sat awake one night of toil
Wishing to sell my soul
A knocking sound inside my head
Came rushing down like soil
My breathing failed
My stomach ailed
I dreamt awake in pine
Realizing I was buried
Not yet dead; alive.
I fancied my pen mighty
I knew my pick was quick
But past is past and future gold;
Just copper Devil's tricks.
Men call the present “Present”
Meaning it a gift
Open the box and within find
An endless mire of shit.
The knock becomes a pounding
Rattling now like stones
Any poison would do well;
A thing to salve the bones.
Howling snow as harpies blow
Their siren song of cold
Melt my eyes with lye if thou
would only salve my bones.
Prayers akin to women's words
Scrawled upon the air
If only all the myths were truths
This life we could call fair.
A grinding spine
Testes in twine
Gelding men with school
I finally understand just why
I call myself the Fool.
That cursed rattling pounding
Shall never cease to grow
Hence I wonder will I ever
One day salve these bones?

 

                    II

In fatigue, have I salved these bones?

With Dirt you call drink
And a sign you call home—
To build your home.
And with that ugly thing it seems
I have salved these bones.
Ah, but Hell, you decry
Awaits such as I, and perhaps,
Impresses your ego
But all of us know that the muck
And the snow and the warmth
(from the gut)
From the Hogshead soothes these bones,
A side-effect; maniac tones.
For tones are they not?
Are they not songs insane?
Or inane, or a pain?
Apathy seems to save
Or at least soothe the quivers.
At that point
Find
That the kind
(cursed kind)
Such as I find the strength to deliver.
The marrow is rank
But the bones are at rest
And never were they bones at all!
The fact of the matter is something far fatter
Quiet the Purple and incessant drone
Of the numbers much higher than mine.
At length--find myself a mess, me
What a most horrible thing to be.
The Horror of such a thing
(I wish I could say)
Escapes me.

              III

Ullo Modo!

I must salve these bones!
Lest I cease to function
And lose more than gumption
My mind will cease to flow
My Devil Half blossoms
And Angels be tossed
With their trumpets
Far Below.

Bellow

Cream-colored milk

Once did salve these bones
But strychnine it was although Heaven Above
It did force to open the doors
Golden doors
Something I
(or one such as I)
Within seek refuge and not be refused
Though refuse the Many call I.
So instead I sit and reflect on things
Better off charnel and rotting
For stink they cause--
I wish the stench gave me pause--
But with custom comes wisdom
And amber brings wisdom

 

That poison alone will salve the bones.

 

A reflection in the light

Flowing through colors and symbols of life
A color conductor Immortal;
From time beyond time
Needs must find that one
Realizes a thing or three.
A fool turned to hermit yet still a knight
Prized with the gift of poem!
Little ye know
The To and the Fro
And the real reason
I seek
To salve the bones.

                IV

So sitting awake on this night of toil

I wonder, am I alive?
Excess rules on the Ship of Fools
But often we seek
To Salve the Bones
It is far from just I who seeks comfort
Succor and Aid for the Ace of Spades
The World is alive with the Dead.
Etched inside, the hymns of the Dead
Let it go
And tell the Medico
That the urge to sin will not subside!
Give me the thing
I need to flee
Or I’ll find my own way
Down to Under.
Shall I dig through the skin
To the bones
And the marrow within
And sell it for meat and plunder?
The pith of me is far better one sees
To sell than to leave rent asunder.
If I sell me
Will I salve these bones?
Or unlock a box without hope?
It does not matter
At this point I’d rather
Die, die, and die again than NOT
Salve these Bones.

The problem is that no salve exists

Aside from the one with the dark hood
And the chains around its wrists

So until then I just have to take my punishment and give back more
I’ll stay sore

Until I find that repose

That lies for all of us

For all of us…

For us all.