7 Seas Per Mountain High

exist with pleasure no matter what you lose

the 7 seas offer quite a reputation

erase a man's fear in murder

shame

engulf a man's lung with water

destroy, said reputation

with pride

of the seven stories I quietly think of

tied, bound

face and cheek hard to wet stone

a prisoner's look

upon the rats

but nothing comes

across the floor

of this man's fear

yet engulfing a man's

entire disposition

Anyman (yes... anyman)

imprisoned

among the

7 stories

of imprisonment

inside a mind

cell by cell

memory by memory

a seventh prisoner,

a seventh mind

a seventh thought

someone's seventh sentence

the same as the last one

just like the next one

without stories to tell

and mountains to count

hell becoming omnipresent

and crushing

there is no butterfly

i'm a f*****g cocoon

your prison

tending to you

gentle, tender, like a sunday afternoon

there aren't really any numbers you know?

just all this s**t to be counted relentless

among friends

unembarrassed, unabashed, so hilarious

in the ways that we breath

still,

so confused

and,

then

so much s**t to be counted

and kept

compartmentalized

hell not with standing

c**k sucking w****s; blow parties

sometimes attended

along the way

it gets boring

on the way

the toll gets paid

traversing the great

 the great daunting task

   bringing light to the dark

it's so much easier this way

hand to mouth

c**k to c**t

day to day

wealth forgets

manners regress

the way that I sometimes breath

and admire 

inside of you or someone close to like you

because now you're gone

but here we are

made replacements of us you and I

and my oh my...

these thoughts of a face

that feel of your touch

the way that we die

without us

and i guess

and i hope

it's still better this way

to have had it at all

a love i called you

over nothing at all

proud, I'll make again

among all my dark halls

the thing that you left me

our light in the darkness

the survival of kindness

that's what love is at all

our light in the darkness

this survival of kindness

amongst the worst kinds of sadness

and the worst kind of loss

we saved one another

no matter what else occurs...

in this prison i've designed

for all the s**t I keep leaving behind

like an a*****e

we remember our eyes

some things just can't be unshared.

Author's Note

If I could explain it to him face to face.... Thomas Merton would be quite pleased with this poem. Maybe, next time, don't take a bath next to an old timey electric fan in a third world country.... Thom... maybe you wouldn't be quite so dead at the moment... Thom. I'm just saying man... what the hell man?

Reviews

[Sir Drift & Mr. Pulse]

Ahhhh. This is just too good. There is no butterfly, captures how peoples freedom are actually harnessed with the entrapment of a mind within a cocoon! Yes I get it. Such imprisonment is in oneself. People oblige to realize truth, when blindness is only from covering your own eyes. Now I'm just writing s**t. Lol. Good work. I see you're causing trouble like always. Lol

[Elise Anton]

I clicked on 'it smells like dog water' tag and there was 'no writing found' :(

There are aspects, sure. Thomas Merton spent most of his life dipping his toe. You and he could probably talk through this piece. I love the love of it and in it. I've designed many a prison so yeah, it 'resonated'...

Second last 'verse' was for me. The rest was for you.

"there is no butterfly
i'm a f*****g cocoon
your prison
tending to you
gentle, tender, like a sunday afternoon" Ahhhh!

[Davidgeo]

This is an emo b***h poem... I'm not at all done with it yet. Thomas Merton certainly is one of my favorite writers/philosopher/social critic. I'm an atheist but Merton transcends all of that bullshit. monk or not. His writing had little to do with this poem though.

It is an incredibly personal peom, the link to Merton outside of the title and picture are fundamental but insanely abstract...