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Array ( [sid] => 147509 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => PLUTO [time] => 2009-01-19 16:09:16 [hometext] => part of a series I humbly called [bodytext] => PLUTO.

What happened to you cold intellect?
Out on the rim
Once secret,
Frozen greyed & introspect.

Stranger to religions
Of the heart's sympathetic excess,
A separate & superior
Wasting abscess.

Puss filled, grey, pitted stark
Planet of dying lost arts,
In orbits crying to the sun
Touchstone of the universe
Discover that you are one.

Floating free from times & places,
Be the marks on the walls
In the silent halls of
The sleeping & furious graces.

Watch as they rise,
Dance across the skies
Remember your ancient duty
Priestly amnesty & confounding disguise.

I passed by the gallows tree,
Ropes turning soft in the night,
The knotted, knarrled & cold ladder of spite.
A vagabond talisman to all eternal.

This is the Poet's pulpit
Not the fawning ribbons,
Complicit decisions or
Proclamations nailed to it.

I shall stand here with your bravest
Swallow all fear
At the future's harvest,
Unbowed like the tree & questioning.
Not like the hangman answering. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 152 [topic] => 64 [informant] => incognito_bombastus [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => ambiguous )

PLUTO

Contributed by incognito_bombastus on Monday, 19th January 2009 @ 04:09:16 PM in AEST
Topic: ambiguous

PLUTO.

What happened to you cold intellect?
Out on the rim
Once secret,
Frozen greyed & introspect.

Stranger to religions
Of the heart's sympathetic excess,
A separate & superior
Wasting abscess.

Puss filled, grey, pitted stark
Planet of dying lost arts,
In orbits crying to the sun
Touchstone of the universe
Discover that you are one.

Floating free from times & places,
Be the marks on the walls
In the silent halls of
The sleeping & furious graces.

Watch as they rise,
Dance across the skies
Remember your ancient duty
Priestly amnesty & confounding disguise.

I passed by the gallows tree,
Ropes turning soft in the night,
The knotted, knarrled & cold ladder of spite.
A vagabond talisman to all eternal.

This is the Poet's pulpit
Not the fawning ribbons,
Complicit decisions or
Proclamations nailed to it.

I shall stand here with your bravest
Swallow all fear
At the future's harvest,
Unbowed like the tree & questioning.
Not like the hangman answering.

Copyright © incognito_bombastus ... [ 2009-01-19 16:09:16]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: PLUTO (User Rating: 1 )
by shelby on Tuesday, 20th January 2009 @ 01:39:07 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

I passed by the gallows tree
rope turning soft in the night.......

One of many parts in this write I love.
Beautiful work,

Hugs
Michelle

Re: PLUTO (User Rating: 1 )
by kismetkills on Sunday, 1st February 2009 @ 08:53:19 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

wow i love how you worded this. it's complex and hard to understand, yet the vibe of it still breaks through. awesome job!

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