Cockcrow to brownout, iron melts.
Fruitful and fruitless is the product of labour
under blast furnace sky. Golden age of man
built on seeping pile of manure and metallurgic sands.
Cronos has finger on the pulses,
his finger in the pies – a polyphagic appetite,
polydipsic thirst, promises profligate.
Hollow god of fortune in guise of sovereign man.
Staccato beats the seconds, the minutes,
the hours, the dread. In messianic masterstroke,
sickle wielding in parlous miscalculation,
sunders creator from his balls, heaven from this earth.
Eulogise, pathologise, mythologise to light
a conflagration. Killing time, past consuming future,
til darkness slowly dies from his seed of destruction.
Only to be condemned equally by those drunk
on his poisoned chalice and by those whose freedoms he trampled.
I started this poem a couple of weeks ago, ditching it when I advised myself not to go there. Anyway, I decided to revive it for Napowrimo. I understand that Napowrimo stands for National Poetry Writing Month. I’m a Napowrimo virgin. I can’t imagine what possessed me to join in this time. I’m afraid, ladies and gentlemen, that as far as my poetry goes, it is all downhill from here.
Reflections of An Untidy Mind 
That’s “downhill” as in a smooth and easy ride? Have fun with Napowrimo!
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That’s downhill like seeping manure. 😉 I don’t think I’ll make the distance, lol. Thanks, Liz.
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Ew. Downhill seeping manure would limit your audience to those of a scatalogical bent.
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Perhaps that’s uphill then. Like pushing crap up hill?
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😀
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A poem for our apocalyptic times indeed. I love your enjoyment of less-than day-to-day vocabulary.
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Ha, that was the brief. I’ll be pleased to go back to one syllable words from now on.
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Back to basics eh?
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Doesn’t hurt my head as much.
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“Staccato beats the seconds,” Love that line. And O, NaPoWriMo virgin! No worries. Just put out your first drafts and we shall gobble them up
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Thank you. That’s very kind of you.
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NaPoWriMo virgin, you make NaPoWriMo veterans look like amateurs!
I love the alliteration, I love the tongue in cheek humour and I am in awe of your vocabulary, Tracy. Need of the hour poem.
You go, girl! ❤️
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Thanks, Punam. Have dictionary, will write poems, lol. You inspired me to get out of my comfort zone.
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Haha! So right, Tracy. But everyone has a dictionary, still everyone can’t write. 😉
Not only does one get out if comfort zone but it is a good distraction from everyday pressing problems which make one (me) hyperventilate!
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😁
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PS. Know that hyperventilate feeling.
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I had a feeling you would.
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