O' that I am cursed to forever be
Bound to this earth interminably
When I might soar past heavenís door
To breathe the scents that angels so adore
To dispel this sordid shell and dwell
Far above this mundane mimicry of hell
Would it be amiss to seek solace in blessed bliss
Is there not nectar I may sip from venom lips
Some panacea potion to set whim in motion
If I left tonight upon wings of firelight
Could I not then dance entranced
To harps of seraphim and sirens haunted hymns
O' what binds me here interminably
When in vision I do so clearly see
That enchanted land beyond oblivion's great sea
omg what wonderful alliterations you've collected here!... this is a feast of sounds that roll off the tongue. And the rhyming! rhyme within rhyme bringing out stale accepted bitterness, an eyesore, that is just so wonderfully juxtapositioned against the freshnesss of your sounds (dance entranced is my favourite).
I feel bad for you that you don't find this world wondrous and inspiring. I admit it can really be depressing being human. I read your post (under a rock?) but you deleted it before I could comment. Believe me I feel for you, I suffer from demonic possessions also. It seems there's no escape. I get a kick out of the way you've gone the way of world religions here and deified some ascension to the ethereally sublime. It's so far from the denizen you most often purvey. Contrarily I don't understand why you don't like it here. I am inspired by mere rocks and trees, waterfalls give me mystic symbiosis. I fear the reach of heaven because I don't want to leave. Although I admit this may be fallacious reasoning I have a real affinity for the place, and my imagination can take me almost anywhere I want to go without an abject denial of reality.
i suppose heaven is a state of mind. just bliss. i think we find hell when we look for heaven to arrive in greater dosses. but i don't know, theories on such things are always garbage. this is very well written. your works have alot of style which are very fun to read. i'm not sure how personal they are, but they are quite crafted. somehow we don't cross paths all that much. you've really got the whole style thing down perfectly. if this is purely personal i hope you find the heaven you seek.
I know the feeling, but we are enlisted or perhaps enslaved to some task it seems even though it be one that's long forgotten. Or it could just be as you say, a curse, who knows? A cry, a song, the poet remembers something beyond a mere presumption of scents and bliss. Very nice work once again, a thing of timeless beauty.