Description: -Found this in a Word document I'm using for editing videos... figured I may as well post it here.
It's from, at least, two years ago now...
Apparently I'd just watched Die unendliche Geschichte and had the story of Persephone on my mind...
This Nasty... -------------------------------------------
The center is Nothing.
Emptiness; The Hollow.
-We don't talk of the nasty...
The chariot arches o'er the void "Out!" cries The Oracle at The Temple of Apollo
And now damp Spring
-The tolling ring
She is once more among us
She will not eat
The very water drawn from the well shall remind her of her Hel
So cold an blue,
My hand passes through and come the snow...
gone once more.
(I can't help but imagine the nasty.)
Surely, a feast in your honor awaits once- "-Whore!"
knuckles shatter 'gainst the door
My insides tremble as I fall to the-
This plant is dead
It's colour gone.
Can't help it but to think of wrongs
-Life is not living when worries are wrought
-This is no freedom for freedoms form naughts
-Faster and FASTER, Life calls out: "Disaster!" and...
I'll go back.
And I'll wait.
(for the seasons to change)
And for as long as I bleed I will not acknowledge the unseen.
This is a very phonetically pleasant poem. In the way that whore fills out the right sound of more, and how floor seems present in spite of being all but. I have to admit that I am pretty impressed in that regard with this piece (I feel like it is something often too ignored by writers). In the way of constructive criticism I would only have this to say: Can't help it but to think of wrongs
I feel like the middle part of this verse kind of chokes up. Maybe it's just how I am reading it (as that can often be the case with things like this).
I also appreciate that this "Nothing" or center, or what appears to be the nasty, is not really described in a categorical fashion (as in, with labels, and broad definers). I am personally a fan of postmodern literature like "No exit" or "The Trial", and in a similar fashion, this reads like an ostensibly meaningful lack of definitiveness. I just feel like, the last line namingly, doesn't give enough form to the pursuit of this nothing (not so much the why as, per se, the forcefulness of the indefinite; it isn't forceful enough).
But I also realize the piece is, as you said, old. For what it's worth I actually enjoyed it.