Metamorphosis of
Narcissus
based on Salvador Dali's Painting, Oil on Canvas
I live. In a state of rare existence
of luxurious existentialism
in which I can tolerate, gorge.
And thrive.
I do nothing of service, produce nothing
Creation no… and much consume.
I am one of those idlers of the world.
Who of necessity do nothing, necessity being
nothing to me.
For me there is only idolitrazation
and adoration, of myself.
In the mirror.
My mirror tells of a place
where colors do not blend between objects but only
within
an entity, so smoothly, even
in their contrast.
A clarity of pure air, gases so invisible the objects
behind,
in front, between
them almost had a visible outline
where tranquility muffles a rarefied tension.
Where souls enjoy their existence
and moan. their delight.
It is a place of great beauty
and distinction of light and colors. glowing
blended with darkness and cream.
Everything is beautiful in this place--
including I: Narcissus.
I can hear them, my brothers and
sisters to the back of me, posing
wailing,
and wondering
where I have gone.
But they would not come with me
to the water
where they could be happy
gazing at themselves in
their happiness.
For you see, I was the happiest of them all
so beautiful was I--am I!
beautiful and free
and with no longing to lift myself
from the edge of these
waters, pristine and still
no ripple to mar
none of my beauty out
My reflection unfiltered and purely--Me.
I came to lounge one day.
It was hot, and I. thirsty, and
these waters were so beautiful
we had to be together.
I lay down, by the still, still banks
and cupped--a hand of waters
to drink. And drink I did. Oh, coolness
quenched! Wetness. . . ..like silk,
calmed my throat and I sunk
to sleep.
But it was a strange water.
For when I woke, I was thirstier than
before and lifted a handful
to drink. And grew thirstier--and I
tasted the saline, a kind of
aphrodisiac for man
a kind of immortalized liquid
watered down
for man.
And it was me,
(when it was not me
who wanted anything
but the idle of life).
who became idol to
myself.
I needed more, more
than my single hand could cup,
and so lifted myself on my elbows
and cupped both my hands to--
see.
I saw, the most beautiful
sublime
of the divine
Creatures
looking me
full in the face
from my two cupped hands.
Staring and I
thought with terror that
I might drop him. that
I should never gaze at him again, exactly as
do I, now,
then
For even so, he was falling
from my hands, though
I cupped him tighter
still. To see him,
gaze at him idolize him
forever.
He was strangely
so imbued with a current, snaking
its way underneath
his skin, sending
it into tiny a-quivery convulsions
The saline!
The cursed aphrodisiac of the gods!
And still he was slipping
becoming narrower, skewed
distorted Beauty beyond means,
and my power to save him…
And so I drank him.
So that he could be
with we--eternally.
Beautiful forever.
Yes, I had to
taste him--yet
another gulp.
To quaff my
newfound need to
gaze at him.
I had to raise another hands-full of
poison to my adoring worship-, wistfullest eyes and
drink him. Before he
fell from me,
my hands were incessantly cupping
and lifting and drinking
my lips made love
with each gulp of desire.
I drank and drank
and bowed down
on the bank.
on which, I was kneeling.
I can no longer see
myself anymore
There is nothing
to see,
no face to
gaze puppishly
at the face beauty in the water.
There is a lump where my
love used to be--one that
I cannot see, but feel--
sitting heavily in
the water.
I grow stiff
into substance
growing from within
my bones overtake
my flesh. Hardness. Like
muscle broiled in the sun.
I can hear (with what?) the clouds
melting into themselves,
but not into the sky;
afraid to step past
the demarcation.
I groove the road
I will now never take
and let it, wind and go--
where I will never.
And my hungry dog,
eats red flesh, to add on
to his.
I hear my brothers burst into a deeper shade
of pale
while they frolic by their own pool undaring to wander
and claim a
pool of the gods as I have.
“Look!” they cry “Narcissus
the handless would
drink!”
I howled in
bleached amaranthine
grief as a
cripple does
when he cannot do what others
do, the simple,
the moronic tasks.
Yet can do I a
thousandfold in
the fiendish mind.
and my dear love,
bent in strategy,
on a box of red and black
contemplating me as
I contemplate myself,
Considered myself to
the utmost, being fascinated
with none other.
I feel the mountains evaporating in a crunching
break, releasing the
lighter parts of themselves
to the heavens and
sinking lower, dripping
in love
and somewhere a
hand lifted
me from position.
its last two fingers
lifted my knee
and its forefingers
lifted my
shoulders
And feel my shadow
extending twice
as the gods lifted
their one concerted
hand to lift me
from my
idolization
Its thumb lifted
my chin and my brain cracked
in curves
My hair, once flowed like veins, even more so
and my face of beauty was
supported thusly
by the cracked
finger of the gods.
From my mind, (as it ever was so)
grew the consummation of
my desideratum
white, dazzling-white,
and pointing in every direction.
It is so beautiful that I
lift to pluck it but,
to take myself rips me in two
before offering myself to myself
So I kneel here and
gaze and see my
beloved gently (loving me)
swaying in the wind
and know my love
can survive if I
abstain from my
desideratum of myself.
oh, to idolize without
touching. It is beyond me and that is how
it survives.
*~~*~~**~~*~*~~**~~~*~~*~
~*~*~~*~*~~*~**~*~*
Dragon, the
Damsel, and Dreams
Ø
Haiku
- Nature - Traditional 5-7-5
Ø
Haikus
- Love - Nontraditional 5-7-5
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