I AM LISTENING

.....“It is I, evil. I am the true iniquity. Heed the colorless rage.”

Silence.

I could no longer hear the strange tongue.
It was less a language, more a breathless noise.

.....Hello? Hello? Hello? I am here. I am listening. Speak.

Silence, yet I could feel it reaching, pleading, breathing.

.....*Of the good in you I may speak, but not of your evil.
.....Wickedness is but your good tortured by its hunger, its thirst.

Silence.

A massive sea monster woven of fleece haunted my spirit,
Streaming banners praying for blood dangled from my thoughts,
Desiccated faces marched before the attendance of authority,
Weeping cities raised proud their flags and chanted breathlessly.

A throne made of water stood now before me and my abomination
And the war-tapped black sky began its ballet upon the forlorn moon.
Staggering and once proud men took flight in jets made of crumbs
And tumbled down- a hailstorm of counterfeit promises and iniquity.

.....I am here. I am listening. Speak.

Silence.

Copyright © 2006 mrp


To deepen your understanding of the poem read
Peacechick Mary's entry
It's Not Good, Nor Bad at
Knock Knock!

*Kahlil Gibran*

THE VICTOR WILL NEVER BE ASKED

In religion and ethics, evil refers to the "bad" aspects of the behavior and reasoning of human beings —those which are deliberately void of conscience, and show a wanton desire for destruction. In most cultures, the word is used to describe acts, thoughts, and ideas which are thought to (either directly or causally) bring about affliction and death —the opposite of goodness, which itself refers to aspects which are life-affirming, peaceful, and constructive. Aspects regarded as "evil" are thought of as immoral, corrupt, corrupting, inhumane, selfish, and wicked.

O word that bends the brazen will of man,
O wicked, horrible word of most low,
Do you not signify the opposite of truth?
Are you but contrary to goodness?
And what is goodness actually?

O most unconscionable term, darkness in breath, shrieking hell!
Word that corrupts the vast courage `neath the heavens,
Pardon humanity for their wishing you away,
Lips perched in winking goodness, pious reason, and accessorized hope
Treading before your four letters, tumbling, naked and wheezing.

Might you wrestle goodness to her knees
and pin her in breathless abstraction, agape of your power;
Transforming once good men into fiery sentinels,
Into hounds of death and annihilation
And not give one screech of an iota of an exacting damn the outcome?

And you, bowing to its wavering hue,
Have you not the grace to speak
With your own wet tongues to end its reign?
Are you so weak as to ride the ebbing crest of furious failure
Rather than champion the righted journey home?

Go ahead, evil, smirk, then cackle your unhappy fluff,
You’re done- One just flips your letters… and they live.

The victor will never be asked if he told the truth. __Adolph Hitler

Copyright © 2006 mrp / thepoetryman