for her carved flesh

                         

                      Douglas Harvey

weightless

in our downfall

i'm not here to deliver

or rescue her

in a shelter too deep,

much deeper 

into her soul, 

into her iconic features 

memories 

of god's creation

before man

a beating heart 

óf an ancient nature

under the marbled stone

still a bleding 

infliction

far beyond

the mirror lanes

where all reckless

keep staring

through our naked souls

in silence

the unrest flesh - has its own will

free 

from all creator's design 

free 

to feel those blades

carving

while his sadistic face 

grins

no meaningless vice 

glows

for another illusion, 

a tidal 

to another

sentimental delusion 

to which 

we all bow 

from a better view now

in this astral 

grave

for an ancestral bravery 

we'll crave 

again

a song for libertines

where no peace

is allowed 

to hear