e n d

e n d

A Poem by Tim Lion

no egress

from this blackwater moment

 

the ends is here

the end is fear

 

a mountainous hole yawns

where an ocean of faith once lived

&

died

 

died

like everything

does

eventually

 

a man clutches his chest, collapses

a star explodes, implodes, falls asleep

a planet is eaten by the sun that feeds it

a god realizes s/he is the dopeful hope of a dead people

a sweet dream wakes to nightmare reality

a night falls and falls

forever

 

something mortal invented the word “immortal”

something temporary invented the word “infinite”

 

I don’t understand the weight

under which I stand

 

there’s a universe dissolving

on my tiny tongue

 

heaven and hell

are the cracks in my calloused palm

 

and, as I write these gospel lies,

my head is naked,

bleeding out in a hotel bathtub

downtown

 

to weep

perchance

to scream

 

the end is here

the end is fear

the end is

© 2011 Tim Lion


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Featured Review

Started off disliking this piece - not your usual style, maybe that was why. But, it's cool - very metaphysical and my goodness those 'gospel lies' you were feeding in there:

'something mortal invented the word “immortal”

something temporary invented the word “infinite”

...something excruciatingly cynical about these thoughts - as though one of deep religion begins to doubt and turns to philosophical formations. True none the less?

Posted 13 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

the beginning ;) Excellent write.. I love your work because it takes me on an emotional...spiritual ride... Your words run deep..x

Posted 13 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.

gospel indeed. pure epiphany insight. Just remember, it's all in the invention. Good stuff.

Posted 13 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.


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555 Views
12 Reviews
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Shelved in 2 Libraries
Added on October 14, 2011
Last Updated on October 14, 2011

Author

Tim Lion
Tim Lion

Lake Worth, FL



About
Sometimes, when the moon presses her naked chest to my window, and my wife is carving the value from trash scraps, I feel like I may never be able to outshine my finite timeline. And the worst part is.. more..

Writing
oh sorry, oh sorry,

A Poem by Tim Lion



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