the book burning

the book burning

A Poem by m.s.early

The veins routed the long, cold streams
like waterways that would not thaw
even into the furnace of their hankering hearts.
none knew the children were beneath the shadows.
none knew their diseased systems were contagious.
Tell me preacher, 
when you first lit the cleansing pyre
were you the fire or the wind?
Could you hear their skulls 
shrinking from the chilled notions
or the vacuous brains compensating for the loss?
And tell me,
did the dolts of your propaganda
seek solace; did their infested vessels
seek their cheeks to rosy against glow,
and did your hard-on thicken 
and your girth sicken your mind
while you placed your sunken lips 
to their parching ears
and sucked what was left 
of their independent condition
while they expected cultivation
and mistook you for it?

none knew the children would never understand.
none knew that they were lemmings along to your edge.
Did your incredulous hands warm against the blaze?
Did the religious books burn red like your American blood?
The veins of their mind continued
to route those long, cold streams 
along the waterways that would not thaw
even as those foreign pages bounded in 
sheathes of un-interpretable verse
became unwarranted dross.
The children would later sift
through those smoldering blessings
still reeking of your sour breath
seeking purity, but only lifting their eyes.
Some would never discover
that the smell of the righteous
would well serve investigated.
Some would later discover
these molten principles could never be exhumed.

© 2014 m.s.early


My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register




Reviews

Out of control X. This thing just blew my mind. Where did this come from...wait...don't answer that. My friend, this thing is stellar. So very dark and sad and disgusting, but written so damn well. This one has burnt a hole in me.....

Posted 10 Years Ago


m.s.early

10 Years Ago

Thanks Jack. I had just watched a "The Waltons" episode where John Boy was trying to publish an arti.. read more

2
next Next Page
last Last Page
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

559 Views
11 Reviews
Rating
Added on February 13, 2014
Last Updated on February 14, 2014

Author

m.s.early
m.s.early

VA



About
"A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it going to sleep." -Salman Rushdie more..

Writing

Related Writing

People who liked this story also liked..


Frozen Frozen

A Poem by Pryde Foltz