The Loathing

Now to speak of purest loathing,
Stretch the carbon cells nude below
A boiling lens, see the essence shine
Like revelation, lend exquisite voice,
Smash it into memory!

What is this that sits in the ugly
Shell snug as a sand grain?
Programmed like the blinking foetus it
Sits in wait certain of its coming beauty
In the eyes of men.

Tethered to the pillars of these
Philistines I would raze the flesh of men and
Angels to a gorgeous gel for worms;
Or like the Crucified break the bankers’
Tables and their skulls. I am incandescent
As the high noon disc but I am millions
Of these and at night on you spy like gods.
I hulk with rage, its burden, range unrestrained.
I take to waiting men their epitaphs.

There are none innocent I will not defile.
No hyperbole I will not make honest.
Guiltless as the martyr wreathed in flames
My conscious is a paradise of absolution.
Behind my hairline a neural desert reigns,
The lobes cleaned of everything.

Calm as the shaved swami:
Breathe in out O deep breaths now:
Your abhorred scent builds in my nostrils like bile.
In the mind’s lock I set your odour like a Giza stone,
Set until the censured star explodes.
Now behold:

The burning sun collapses
The light teeters and falls
And the uncaged manic blackness gallops
Toward you.


© Rhett Talley