I know, this may not really be the place for poems, but i did check with our key man, mr. olsen, and was advised that we could and even should post some of work that appears elsewhere. So, that said, i'll ocassionaly post a poem here and there under etcetera. Since i've been having many seizures this past week, this poem called Chopin's Fugue, seemed most appropriate, since he too, had temporal lobe epilepsy.
Why these days of body
Seize, body piss. Bite the belts
Silver buckle and suckle life
From leather as you fall
Your face pall green pistachio.
Painted epileptic you know
Of worlds divine, sings unseen
By others, always seen by you.
First you rose, palms and soles
Alight, you flew closer seeking
Light, the sun’s hot rays
Bubbling your wings hot wax
A double-dutch burner of treachery.
Onlookers gather to see this saint
This Joan of Arc who takes one
For the team every time.
It had to pass. That moment when
The crowd cried and clapped for encore.
After all, you were born to this:
It is your birth right, a solemn vow
You never took but accepted nonetheless.
They jeered as you began your steep descent
your eyes wet with the galaxies,
stars that glowed soft
in their milky-white orbit.
You fall as one disgraced,
your quick descent through the night,
your ears full with the sound of
Lilting hallelujahs and dulcet Amens.