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If There Is No God
by Philip F De Pinto
I
One living below
Freezing
Burns
The thoughts displeasing
I know
Another dying
Above
His swarthy mean
Learns
He cannot hope
To trip
Sylvan messenger
Aka Mercury to deliver
Dear John
Swiftly enough
And dearer still
The illiterate heart
And the music it cannot read
Or fathom
The opus
With which you intended
It to break
If read
Save the illiterate bloke
Can't read can't grasp a note
Thus cannot know
His heart is broke
Can play heartbreak
Only by ear
And he would
Play it by ear
Save it is tin
Therein lies the fear
And dread
As one shorn
From sleep
And the dreams apparel
Is resolute
To stark wakefulness
Discovers
The nil to do
Save declare let's cover up
And be friends in lieu
II
How glue hearts
Brokered apart
By envious tides
Put upon to vanquish
The start
As the finish
So soon departs
What never starts
Running in place
On dread mills
Pale
Which are shadows cast
On future tense
Not stigmata
But the sign of
Mystery pierced
Fierce wind chiming in
Exude your hands
Your eyes intrepid
The jade of
Which I clasped
And blessed
And visaged
Sensed
Signaling our omega
Or merely pause
To new beginning
We when we
Were couplet
Still
And not swansong
Would not have
Stood rhyme
Still
Would have had our fill
Have our sate
At any rate
Of all the roads beckoning to
And fro
And what now amounts
To your departure
Will in proportion grow
This sole feature my dowry
To keep estranged from rapture
Difficult I admit
To recapture
Although not impossible task
III
Need I remind
In such illustrious lamp
As yours
All that was merely in me a pup
A sketch
Did flesh out
And fetch
In such light
Did bask
And multiply
With
Currants and pisces
And wine
Staved off starvation
And thirst
In the multitude
Ever biding
On the soul's hillock
Ever yearning as one bullock
Or pair is permitted to stomp
In your miracle shop
And stun muted hyperbole
Into ever resounding crystal
To abide
In your sunny side up
Sufficient to compromise
Dusk's
Ever threatening
Ever encroaching
Mascara
Mas
Cara
Dear is the rub!
Had there not been
Gloried intercession
On your part
I would have foundered in such
Laid on too thickly
If you hadn't busted
My sod
If there is no God
Or gardener
Who can I credit for my
Uplifting?
IV
Displaced from ennui
Thrust into ever procuring grace
And if
There is no you
If only God exists
In lieu
Who will wink
Me from the brink
Flout the straws finality
Pucker hope
And in so puckering
Inflate me into being
With a Capital B?
Mine?
And if you wont B
Mine
Where find
Such a pulley
As is thine to
Up and away
Unstay in me
The wax in which I waned
From the chill
In which I was inured
Prior your arrival
By such was defined
And demurring
And nil
Was exhibited in me
Nary an ode
Or equus
Worth its salt lick
To be seen or heard
And certainly no theme
Concurrent or lung
To breathe you in or out
What ebullient joy
The uncouth boy
Gliding into your graces
What ruminating thrill in the fawn
Who prior the flaying in your skirt
Was bayed in bronze
Had not much to show
And tell
And as you wont tarry
With him a spell
Declare all is well
Folds the petals of his hooves
To prove
When bells are tolled
And holds are full
And fuller moons
Pull
Your four masted tonsil
Far and way from the pier
Which once you held dear
Hence tear
Of the year
Lifting all schooners
V
To conclude:
Who therefore
Remains on me
To cast a spell
Am at present
Poxed
And flogged
By moonbeams
And contorted by affection waned
Or whatever other salt in wounds
There is in such recollection
To conclude once more:
In despair
A flock of
Hands clasped in prayer
Pining your return
Are flightless birds
Ever lacking in peregrination
Despite the wings articulation
And prayer in the clutch of such
Is not better off than a son of Dedalus
Or yolk can never hope to soar
Lest it do so on waxen wings
And in so doing
I fear my prayer
Will melt
Will plummet
Into the sea
Flying too near
Your sunny side
And in such
Impact a crater
Such
As you find
In my heart of late
The corona of which I wear
With pride
I swear
My dear
What beckons such
Prayer as is persistence
To plunk into the sea
And what remains
Save mark its twain?
In vain in vain is prayer
Akin to petals that go extinct
Before in their plucking
Have a chance
The love love me not to reveal
What can one discern
From this neutered bliss
But that my flights been canceled
And your arms wont be my landing place
As planned
But rather wilt
On tarmac
As sky would have sun back
I would have mine
And if by such cruel fate
As I will not
You will never get a chance
To circumnavigate
All the popped buttons in my heart
Then
From this nightmare
Let not this falcon wake
Rather snuff
Put to flaming bier
Scatter all dreams to rest
In the proxied heart of one
Who plies her trade out west
Not given license
Such
Mon Capitan
The rest is silence
08/13/2013 Posted on 08/13/2013
Copyright © 2024 Philip F De Pinto
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 08/14/13 at 05:31 PM Quite the epic telling...words well chosen...love the way you write man. |
| Posted by Rob Littler on 08/16/13 at 05:31 AM Licensed to Silence. |
| Posted by June Labyzon on 10/01/13 at 05:48 AM Anyone who casts away a soul who can weave words such as these, is souless...in my unsolicited opinion. |
| Posted by Elizabeth Shaw on 04/08/14 at 05:31 AM Although it may sound flat your words and thoughts are magnificent, salty sweet like cream parmesan pistachio nougat. thnx |
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