06-14-2016, 04:05 AM
I did something completely different. Would love some feedback, thank you.
Call me muse
whether sacred or inverted;
for when I fall I pulsate
as a state of agony.
Prisoner of the garden
its temple
and its warden
I do not rectify the order
it rectifies me.
Use me as a metaphor;
explain away your crimes
as I thump beyond amygdala
and mathematician minds.
For I am but a woman
not a word; nor a thought
and I cannot be explained
by reason.
You’ll find me in the ashes
of my dead witchy friends.
The internal battle
of a man with a pen;
who splits into the light
out of fear of the night
where I walk among the meadows at dusk.
If I symbolize the grave
the scientists have fought
then I carry every stage
of a long forgotten plot
where Eve met Atom
as the bomb did drop
and projected
a discord
from within.
I am but a mirror, refracted and contained;
submissive to an order, though it seems to look the same.
In your shoes I do follow
for I am very tame,
and will die at the mercy
of my garden.
Version 1
My name is Eve and I was separated from the light.
If you look into a pit you can see my affectionate gaze,
the mother of man and all its saints; for I am the breeder of repulsion.
I bore two men to covet the earth,
yet neither could dominate its daughters.
Among my favorites Teresa was born,
so the Lord created her twice.
In Ávila, she was inspired
with every creation brought forth,
as she watched mother's corpse generate more,
so Terese ate twigs for penance, mortified her flesh
with the faith the Lord would grant salvation.
Albania, reveled in the sickly - a perfection she found supreme.
Christ could be found in their torment
where she understood what others could not
that God never intended to create them in his image,
but to resemble the man within -
and so she burned in their embers and bathed in its ash
for Christ was the path to catharsis.
My name is Eve and I govern the night
If you look through the woodlands you can feel my dismissive gaze,
the mother of orphans and all that's divine;
for I am the catalyst of love.
Call me muse
whether sacred or inverted;
for when I fall I pulsate
as a state of agony.
Prisoner of the garden
its temple
and its warden
I do not rectify the order
it rectifies me.
Use me as a metaphor;
explain away your crimes
as I thump beyond amygdala
and mathematician minds.
For I am but a woman
not a word; nor a thought
and I cannot be explained
by reason.
You’ll find me in the ashes
of my dead witchy friends.
The internal battle
of a man with a pen;
who splits into the light
out of fear of the night
where I walk among the meadows at dusk.
If I symbolize the grave
the scientists have fought
then I carry every stage
of a long forgotten plot
where Eve met Atom
as the bomb did drop
and projected
a discord
from within.
I am but a mirror, refracted and contained;
submissive to an order, though it seems to look the same.
In your shoes I do follow
for I am very tame,
and will die at the mercy
of my garden.
Version 1
My name is Eve and I was separated from the light.
If you look into a pit you can see my affectionate gaze,
the mother of man and all its saints; for I am the breeder of repulsion.
I bore two men to covet the earth,
yet neither could dominate its daughters.
Among my favorites Teresa was born,
so the Lord created her twice.
In Ávila, she was inspired
with every creation brought forth,
as she watched mother's corpse generate more,
so Terese ate twigs for penance, mortified her flesh
with the faith the Lord would grant salvation.
Albania, reveled in the sickly - a perfection she found supreme.
Christ could be found in their torment
where she understood what others could not
that God never intended to create them in his image,
but to resemble the man within -
and so she burned in their embers and bathed in its ash
for Christ was the path to catharsis.
My name is Eve and I govern the night
If you look through the woodlands you can feel my dismissive gaze,
the mother of orphans and all that's divine;
for I am the catalyst of love.