Malachim Poem by Luke J. Holt

Blessed be the goblets that taunt us with dead fire
mourners stand frozen in lifeless vigil
verily! our blood runs thin!
Behold the petals and thorns that pulse with green life
soft blues an screaming reds
these layers of hope are golden
dripping with vulgar protoplasm
the grimoire has been seasoned with hours and tainted with days
limp, tortured hands flail in the hail of numbers
somber bass and the lilting refrain of the shy girl who sings with her eyes
her majick is that of beauty

crying swallows sob for bread, but the vagrant casts his sleeve forth and they die quitely as a lilac blooms and a kitten sighs

flowers gobble flesh in biotic nightmares
awake is the mercy of Valefor
Release him!

II

Twin suns pray to their creatures
noxious is their worship
how their flares alter dreams! there are burning labyrinths in your eyes
let them be my asylum!
let the factories rot in steel slumber
let the alchemist dance in a sad shower of wasted wheat

dazed be the shrugging beast who peers through newspaper castles to find majick has gone
that Malachim swirls nowhere
but in a deadmans book on a dreamed up hill