Melenemesis

[Lucid.]

Melenemesis


"beauty is not a need but an ecstasy"
- Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet


1. Apostasy


O Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger
or discipline me in your wrath.
Be merciful to me, Lord, for I am faint;
O Lord, heal me, for my bones are in agony.
My soul is in anguish.
How long, O Lord, how long?

Where I once took pleasure,
I no longer take pleasure.
My hooded eye craves richer affairs.

I would thrust myself through a field of corn
that was not mine, unbound,
and sit at the riverside
in West Virginia to watch the serpent,
black and proud as a god, corkscrew
itself into the sodden soil.
There were barges burdened with coal
sloughing their way amidst sewage that
slyly slunk towards the fabled bridge—
that gray-green rusted myth, the only fame
of this browbeaten place.

The sun brushed over all this, a golden smear
outcast among the poorer paints.
At night the barges blazed,
earthborn stars bruising the river's surface.

Sometimes, Sarah would come with me;
we would speak with feigned familiarity
of places we had never been, and with
confidence, discuss matters we knew little of.

We were young and strong—
We were thin and agile—
We were drunk all December.

We beat on pianos not knowing how to play,
we fought in alleys, we sang out of key,
we danced to crude carols in cheap bars,
we ate, we drank, we mammon.

We rejoiced
in our vitality, every moment an affirmation
of the previous one, every wild ecstasy without
thought of consequence or reason.

She told me she was ready
for the fall of Rome. I wonder
if she was. I never heard her
tell me that she loved me,
but I know she did.

The sun struck on all of this, unknowing,
uncaring, melting the wax mistletoe that
we first kissed under.


2. Sun-in-Earth


This is to warn you that I am no longer held
in check from fighting white supremacists
by Elijah Muhammad's seperatist Black Muslim
movement, and that if your present racist agitation
against our people there in Alabama
causes physical harm to Reverend King
or any other black Americans
who are only attempting to enjoy their rights
as free human beings, that you and your Ku Klux Klan
friends will be met with maximum physical retaliation
from those of us who are not hand-cuffed
by the disarming philosophy of nonviolence,
and who believe in asserting our right of self-defense—
by any means necessary.

We expect rain, but receive snow.
It is the pain that all men know.

Monticello—
I lie in the alcove and await the fourth.
I won't free her.
The family over freedom.
The Declaration, the Statutes, the University—
my lisp pronounces
that it is man that makes Truth.
Religion misses the meridian;
this space is merely the wake of man's mind.
Necessity cannot neuter my will,
cobbling my conscience,
such rich spectrums of idea—
but it is mine that triumphed!
Our first conflict, John—we were oddly detached.
And O god O god O god Patty's dead,
I having all this time to put heart before head,
but I have lost, I have no hope, I have no care.
Truth offers no solace.
Freedom provides no sanctuary.

These cardiac days wax and wane.
A cytokine storm breaks the brain.

The choir drowns out the divine
and I am tired of my forged throat.
Follow patiently and learn nothing.

The waterfall, the crystalline impure,
wears the granite down to sand. The bluegill
flounders in a cowering heave of mist.

Oscillating spiderlines break through smog,
raising the rainbow. Wonder is lost in familiarity,
the cottonmouth and the cactus.

Where is Valhalla, where is Elysium,
where is Hundred Acre Wood? We dig,
but not to find, into this treasure-broken beach.

We leave the wheat to rot. We do not reap.
Colchis misplaces his time-torn fleece.


3. Pius Felix Invictus


Weeds flourish even beneath waves,
although here the coiled and hidden
is traded for thanes.

The raw maw of the hammerhead
eclipses fragmented sunlight illuming
startled sand. She, majestic in form,
broken-toothed, rubber skinned, grey
and neutral as death, uncompassionate
but hewing no hate, those dumbly fierce
opposing oracles that circumvent the crests.
Born from violence, born into violence—
Kali-Ma, mother-destroyer,
the cunt and the cock,
the most vicious, the most beautiful;
she has no need for Design,
for Order, for Truth, for the vain ornaments
with which man gaudily garnishes existence.
Knowing only the iodine stench of ichor,
unchanged and unmoved for millennia,
she is in perfect compliance with creation.
Kerygma; there is no greater glory.
The universe is unhinged by her jaws.

Above this, a sapling clings to a crag.
Little birds, a deeper blue in the blue sky,
delight in its impartial branches.

We would watch, but never ascend;
it seemed improper to intrude. We
craved no part in this minute perfection.

We had our own.
Some might say we have
no choice in chance.

Apikouros. With a riant yawn
I dismiss such sophistry, content
without comparison, reliant upon
my own unimpassioned grace.
Ommateum. I have kept my vineyard
fruitful, devoid of barakka.
I observe the lean of the cards
in her small, imperfect hands.
Melenemesis. I have no aliquant.
I am essential and comfortable.
We slink as one, without shunt.
I exhale to inhale.

http://www.rapbattles.com/forum/show...99#post4670899
http://www.rapbattles.com/forum/showthread.php?t=298602

[Penlord.]

I would thrust myself through a field of corn
that was not mine, unbound,
and sit at the riverside
in West Virginia to watch the serpent,
black and proud as a god, corkscrew
itself into the sodden soil.
There were barges burdened with coal
sloughing their way amidst sewage that
slyly slunk towards the fabled bridge—
that gray-green rusted myth, the only fame
of this browbeaten place

Liked that^ reminds me of where i live kinda..

The raw maw of the hammerhead
eclipses fragmented sunlight illuming
startled sand. She, majestic in form,
broken-toothed, rubber skinned, grey
and neutral as death, uncompassionate
but hewing no hate, those dumbly fierce
opposing oracles that circumvent the crests.
Born from violence, born into violence—
Kali-Ma, mother-destroyer,
the cunt and the cock,
the most vicious, the most beautiful;
she has no need for Design,
for Order, for Truth, for the vain ornaments
with which man gaudily garnishes existence.
Knowing only the iodine stench of ichor,
unchanged and unmoved for millennia,
she is in perfect compliance with creation.
Kerygma; there is no greater glory.
The universe is unhinged by her jaws.

^ Good Detail.

this iwas really good..the vocab really impressed me..you had great detail in this throughout..i could keep right with the story..i liked imagining the girl and the setting of this..pretty cool stuff

Apikouros. With a riant yawn
I dismiss such sophistry, content
without comparison, reliant upon
my own unimpassioned grace.
Ommateum. I have kept my vineyard
fruitful, devoid of barakka.
I observe the lean of the cards
in her small, imperfect hands.
Melenemesis. I have no aliquant.
I am essential and comfortable.
We slink as one, without shunt.
I exhale to inhale.

^ Real Nice ending.

I liked the usage of metaphores, they were put in nicely..kinda interesting i guess. Never really seen this type of thing from you..good job man.