The Second Going
#1
"The Second Going"

Who tortured the Rabbi,
Milked, then bled the Lamb,
And passed the scepter to high -
Hatted grifters?

Just a turning world,
Half-lifed into
An etherized coma.
Ectopic hearts beat
In a gangrenous body.

There's dope in the cathedral.
There's tears on Herod's Wall.
Hijabs muzzle double-tongued
Angels, Ravi Shankar played
The hippies' ball.

Vultures come to gnarl
On the morbidity of faith,
Filling their gizzards
With apocalyptic horsemen.
The moral compass spins
Like a propellor, until
It flies into orbit.

No more free men in Paris.
No more mistletoe.
When you ask for change
You have to buy the app.
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#2
(06-30-2013, 10:59 AM)Vistaldust Wrote:  "The Second Going"

Who tortured the Rabbi,
Milked, then bled the Lamb,
And passed the scepter to high -
Hatted grifters?

Just a turning world,
Half-lifed into
An etherized coma.
Ectopic hearts beat
In a gangrenous body.

There's dope in the cathedral.
There's tears on Herod's Wall.
Hijabs muzzle double-tongued
Angels, Ravi Shankar played
The hippies' ball.

Vultures come to gnarl
On the morbidity of faith,
Filling their gizzards
With apocalyptic horsemen.
The moral compass spins
Like a propellor, until
It flies into orbit.

No more free men in Paris.
No more mistletoe.
When you ask for change
You have to buy the app.

Vistaldust,
This is the deepest, most metaphorically dense poem that I have ever thought I (might) understand ... and I love it. I particularly admire the flow, development and coherence of your assertion ... for lack of a better word. I don't understand some of the metaphor (that is me not you) and that might be why I like it so much ... I don't understand some of it but (I think) I get the message. I will pray for you. Just joking. But maybe, just maybe, we are in need of prayer. Thumbsup
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#3
gritty, lucid, daunting, wonderful. certainly coming from the thicket of existential strife- I commend your visage
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#4
(07-01-2013, 01:50 PM)Ian James Wrote:  gritty, lucid, daunting, wonderful. certainly coming from the thicket of existential strife- I commend your visage

Thank you. I must have written a good poem by accident....lol

(07-01-2013, 08:55 AM)fim Wrote:  
(06-30-2013, 10:59 AM)Vistaldust Wrote:  "The Second Going"

Who tortured the Rabbi,
Milked, then bled the Lamb,
And passed the scepter to high -
Hatted grifters?

Just a turning world,
Half-lifed into
An etherized coma.
Ectopic hearts beat
In a gangrenous body.

There's dope in the cathedral.
There's tears on Herod's Wall.
Hijabs muzzle double-tongued
Angels, Ravi Shankar played
The hippies' ball.

Vultures come to gnarl
On the morbidity of faith,
Filling their gizzards
With apocalyptic horsemen.
The moral compass spins
Like a propellor, until
It flies into orbit.

No more free men in Paris.
No more mistletoe.
When you ask for change
You have to buy the app.

Vistaldust,
This is the deepest, most metaphorically dense poem that I have ever thought I (might) understand ... and I love it. I particularly admire the flow, development and coherence of your assertion ... for lack of a better word. I don't understand some of the metaphor (that is me not you) and that might be why I like it so much ... I don't understand some of it but (I think) I get the message. I will pray for you. Just joking. But maybe, just maybe, we are in need of prayer. Thumbsup

Thanks a lot. I was alluding to the decline or death of religion.
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#5
(06-30-2013, 10:59 AM)Vistaldust Wrote:  "The Second Going"

Who tortured the Rabbi,
Milked, then bled the Lamb,
And passed the scepter to high -
Hatted grifters?

Just a turning world,
Half-lifed into
An etherized coma.
Ectopic hearts beat
In a gangrenous body.

There's dope in the cathedral.
There's tears on Herod's Wall.
Hijabs muzzle double-tongued
Angels, Ravi Shankar played
The hippies' ball.

Vultures come to gnarl
On the morbidity of faith,
Filling their gizzards
With apocalyptic horsemen.
The moral compass spins
Like a propellor, until
It flies into orbit.

No more free men in Paris.
No more mistletoe.
When you ask for change
You have to buy the app.
this poem i relate to quite well, growing up catholic i have seen my church morph into something i do not understand and, at this point follow. I this you truly clash the ideas of Judaism and neo-christanity. very fun poem! a pleasure to read
Only one thing is impossible for God: To find any sense in any copyright law on the planet.
--mark twain
Bunx
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#6
i do like your poetry vista. i can't always grasp it but i do like it. a question, why do you like to cap a letter after a comma. (which of course is allowed and often done)? i think it takes away something from a good poem.

i like how the last couplet brings the hypocrisy into the now and shows it as a business, some good, a lot of good lines in the poem

An etherized coma.
Ectopic hearts beat
In a gangrenous body.

pretty much sums up the church as dead or apathetic.

thanks for the read.


(06-30-2013, 10:59 AM)Vistaldust Wrote:  "The Second Going"

Who tortured the Rabbi,
Milked, then bled the Lamb,
And passed the scepter to high -
Hatted grifters?

Just a turning world,
Half-lifed into
An etherized coma.
Ectopic hearts beat
In a gangrenous body.

There's dope in the cathedral.
There's tears on Herod's Wall.
Hijabs muzzle double-tongued
Angels, Ravi Shankar played
The hippies' ball.

Vultures come to gnarl
On the morbidity of faith,
Filling their gizzards
With apocalyptic horsemen.
The moral compass spins
Like a propellor, until
It flies into orbit.

No more free men in Paris.
No more mistletoe.
When you ask for change
You have to buy the app.
Reply
#7
(06-30-2013, 10:59 AM)Vistaldust Wrote:  "The Second Going"

Who tortured the Rabbi,
Milked, then bled the Lamb,
And passed the scepter to high -
Hatted grifters?

Just a turning world,
Half-lifed into
An etherized coma.
Ectopic hearts beat
In a gangrenous body.

There's dope in the cathedral.
There's tears on Herod's Wall.
Hijabs muzzle double-tongued
Angels, Ravi Shankar played
The hippies' ball.

Vultures come to gnarl
On the morbidity of faith,
Filling their gizzards
With apocalyptic horsemen.
The moral compass spins
Like a propellor, until
It flies into orbit.

No more free men in Paris.
No more mistletoe.
When you ask for change
You have to buy the app.

I'm with Billy on a lot of his points, there is some compelling symbolism in the poem but I am left a bit confused, that means you are either much smarter than me or you need to work on clarity. Just my opinion, I found the work compelling.
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#8
Thanks, Brownie. It's definitely rework able. I have difficulty finding that line between elusiveness and giving it all away.
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