12-09-2010, 12:57 AM
This was a bitch. Begin with J he says...haha. I plan on savagely editing this and turning it into something else, but the prompt did take me in a direction I would never have went without it.
Munin
Joined in this unkindness,
skimming the twilight
thermals, tasting the slave song,
grasping the limp hand of the stillborn.
My words do not strike
sparks against the flint
to burn the hanged god’s ear.
Remember this cry.
You share only what is new.
What is that to me? So like murder: a black flutter,
tiny footsteps of regret.
There is an eye under water,
the pointless journey,
your unlit hearth of tradition.
Now, I see your excitement and echo it
There are the buildings rising,
guarding the sky. I am the dust left behind.
Munin
Joined in this unkindness,
skimming the twilight
thermals, tasting the slave song,
grasping the limp hand of the stillborn.
My words do not strike
sparks against the flint
to burn the hanged god’s ear.
Remember this cry.
You share only what is new.
What is that to me? So like murder: a black flutter,
tiny footsteps of regret.
There is an eye under water,
the pointless journey,
your unlit hearth of tradition.
Now, I see your excitement and echo it
There are the buildings rising,
guarding the sky. I am the dust left behind.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson