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Sunday, August 20, 2017

He Looks A Bit Like Uncle Deadly


...but it wasn't intentional. I swear! Please don't come after me, Disney incorporated or unlimited or whatever you are. There are perspective problems, but aren't there always?

Many poems I write are just words strung together is ways that sound pleasing or humorous to me. I also enjoy giving things a vaguely prophetic tone to make it more ominous. As the Future, such at is is, looks largely like unknowable gibberish from our vantage point in the Present, it seems to work.

This is quite an old poem below, but it fits the description nicely.



It did indeed all come to pass, in ages long ago
We spirits men sought out as sage
Gathered ‘neath the storm’s black rage
And began anew the war we’d waged
That brought the Devil low

For though we once were sought as sage, our shapes are but as glass
In which secret fire again shall shine
Twisting us round through life’s bent line
Until cold stars swim in the murky brine
And it has come to pass.

The universe is older now, much longer are the miles
That pass between the moon and earth
With no hope of death or bright rebirth
And all our pow’r (for what that’s worth)
Must help us pass the whiles

For while the Dwindling’s snared my kind and our stories go unheard
Light passes through the side you see
It blows past whispers over me
The one and one fuse into three
I speak the silent word