Poetry hour with Lynxie
Feb 16, 2011 19:13:24 GMT -5
Post by Lala & Reese Degreas on Feb 16, 2011 19:13:24 GMT -5
Thrash Hallelujah
A hallelujah chorus of weeping angels dressed in lace and black
screaming madly,
their cries catching and breaking like glass in their throats
but still they sing in worship.
It’s the singing,
the screaming
that summons their gods.
The angels wail and push and pull to reach
the deified creatures above.
so close,
but all too far
Their gods look down.
Their eyes roll back.
Their muscles pull and tense and send roars through the crowd.
The chanting angels send them into fits and shakes and
Their fingers bleed from the force of steel strings.
The stage like an altar burns before them.
Lights.
Heat.
and Smoke.
Frantic shrieking, speaking in tongues,
Their worshipers slam their brains against their skulls in suicidal idolatry
and fall gasping against each other for another glance.
Horns blossom in the sea of angels,
their black nails digging against their palms
and the gods fade,
blurred against the deafening roar of silence.
and the show ends
and the altar ash descends over the night
and the angels limp home on crooked wings,
their limbs spent from the thrashing
at the Metal show.
--------------------------
This poem was just published in Scribendi, which is an Honors College Literary Magazine published in the southwest.
I don't usually like to share my poetry, but I'm getting used to doing so now.
A hallelujah chorus of weeping angels dressed in lace and black
screaming madly,
their cries catching and breaking like glass in their throats
but still they sing in worship.
It’s the singing,
the screaming
that summons their gods.
The angels wail and push and pull to reach
the deified creatures above.
so close,
but all too far
Their gods look down.
Their eyes roll back.
Their muscles pull and tense and send roars through the crowd.
The chanting angels send them into fits and shakes and
Their fingers bleed from the force of steel strings.
The stage like an altar burns before them.
Lights.
Heat.
and Smoke.
Frantic shrieking, speaking in tongues,
Their worshipers slam their brains against their skulls in suicidal idolatry
and fall gasping against each other for another glance.
Horns blossom in the sea of angels,
their black nails digging against their palms
and the gods fade,
blurred against the deafening roar of silence.
and the show ends
and the altar ash descends over the night
and the angels limp home on crooked wings,
their limbs spent from the thrashing
at the Metal show.
--------------------------
This poem was just published in Scribendi, which is an Honors College Literary Magazine published in the southwest.
I don't usually like to share my poetry, but I'm getting used to doing so now. 
Here is a video of me reading "Thrash Hallelujiah" at the local opening of the magazine! Kinda quiet...but whatever.
