Rapture and Riposte

Stigmata reconstructed,
Black spots without pirates,
What’s the fun in that?
Is there dishonour
In the paradox of
Perdition and paradise?
They shoot you down
When you ask for help,
As though human minds
were as simple as flipping
A coin, faceless heads
And tall tall tales,
Over powered by yourself,
Standing to warped attention,
To the meaningless voice
That screams the loudest,
Free choice they say,
You can control thoughts,
Feelings, derailed,
But offer someone
The whole of time and space,
Who wouldn’t take it?
Deconstruction deconstructed,
What peace can you offer
Yourself when your atonement
Is the last breath?
Internal forces control
Your world, fundamental
To mental disturbance.

And there is an answer,
Reply, response,
You are what you eat,
Becoming the devourer,
Snatching the world,
Changing, reforming,
The words, the world,
Intake love, expel hate,
Inside your heart
Meditate, remould,
Fight for yourself,
Life’s too short to mount
The horrors of the day,
Think, live, love, be,
Before death,
Because it may be
Infinite nothing.

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Poem © Phen Weston 2014

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