ANATHEMA in four parts
written by: John Lopes
@PoetryIncubator
MOVEMENT I
I am
hallowed
by insignificance
among mortals
embracing invisibility
from vision of man
I abscond the wallen garden
of bedroom walls into the falling evening
away from muted unmovable air,
to the retreating noise of the city
Out here in the daytime
uncertainty is a stench,
brings their stare
Night falls to the horizon embracing
creeping hours inching forward as
tendrils of time stretch that other living plane,
audacious shadows grow
Out here
they only come at daybreak
when skin standing on end and
panicked pores spilling sweat
can be heard telegraphing the mute
scream in my chest
MOVEMENT II
The machinery of night begins its
procession
A choir of buzzling power lines
above gabled roofs chatter,
buzzing otherwise drowned
in daytime’s traffic
Gossiping street chandeliers burn
tiny arsons of light unloading daily
grievances caught in their mouths,
they lift cleft palates and worries
come crawling pattering on pavement,
eyeing me between movements
in roach jolted drive
obfuscated by the outskirts of midnight
etching seconds into concrete
counting out the night
Phone booths
lodge ever-watching spiders
gazing beyond webbed tapestry
of night with eyes open towards the
vast darkness,
observing trespasses upon this plain
Out here in the daytime
I unravel beneath ravenous eyes
while mute mannequins pale as morgues
master disguises in shop windows
remaining insignificant among masses
MOVEMENT III
From anemic gutters
I gather the broken,
their limbs amputated by daylight’s
false shrapnel intentions disguised as jade,
encrusted in jewels and gold
Beneath bridges
kings preside over architectural
monoliths of underpass columns,
makeshift cathedrals welcome the
shattered to sepulcher,
while the humming blacktop above drones a
welcome prayer to the funeral pyre wreckage
The fire will be fed,
the names inscribed on walls
before daybreak shanks the nocturnal
splitting its flesh open pouring out secrets
MOVEMENT IV
The fire of day crawls first from
the chin of Avenues
cutting the city East/West
clawing upwards between buildings,
vaulting roofs.
Its lashing tongue burning out
street chandeliers and sacrificial flames
in the shadows of buttresses
holding up the night
In the crucible,
morning jackknifes the throat of night
stabbing through the fissures of dream state
In the morning light,
the sidewalks are a cobblestone
mausoleum
bleached by the morning flash,
towards the moat dug around
the shelter of my bed
Sheets heavy as lead shelter me
from sun’s fission
piercing through windows,
its mark seared into the backdrop
behind my eyes
In sleep I chase fugitive fragments of recollection
into an abyss of dreams,
away from nightmare visions of daytime.
Doors open to where vague memories reside,
before light radiated paranoia
John began writing as a tool of exploration and as a means to overcome clinical depression, he hopes to provide his readers with approachable and relatable poetry.
He is a self-taught writer who began his education when he discovered Pablo Neruda who remains a major influence in his work, he has since then expanded his theme explorations to the bohemian Beatnik generation and modern North American poets such as Anis Mojgani, Derrick Brown and Sam Sax.
His first book titled CLOCKWORK, is now available through online retailers and PAPERFIELDS PRESS
- ANATHEMA In Four Parts - November 16, 2017
- How To Gut A Fish - March 17, 2017
- New York - April 19, 2016
