Spike
Spike
by JW Mark
I return to spike the live-long morning
Dull brained, mush mouthed, drunk in dread
For burn bright egg goo gore made burn of morning here and now.
What yellow is this morning?
Buzz bomb, vibrant, fuzz fused hum
Of lusty malcontented heat (for me)
: The nothing, stillborn, nil and null.
Of blue-gray splotch of absent goop
Un-enlivened by this tempest morn
Whose but burden does this day provide?
Possession all of fancy, this, a rude red shine of vibrancy
Scream stiff insisted honesty
from one
who lulls
And fights to dine
alone into the night.
The first couple reads i just marvelled at the words put together and their sounds–then i could read and let some impressions sink.
For most, the morning represents a new beginning of sorts–the dawn of a new horizon, to be cliche’. But i don’t get that sensation from the poet here. The author is a creature of the darkness, not just as a ‘night owl’ preference, but rather i would think he gets a sort of comfort from the cool silent ambiguity from night as if the world wipes a clean slate and returns to an innocence which is corrupted during day representing a time when society awakens and we all trudge off to our daily rituals of survival…a drone boring game that can sap us of our enthusiasm for life…our inner vitality.
i appreciated the word-smithing of these lines with blunt terse cacophonous gems: “Dull brained, mush mouthed, drunk in dread
For burn bright egg goo gore made burn of morning here and now…Buzz bomb, vibrant, fuzz fused hum Of lusty malcontented heat (for me): The nothing, stillborn, nil and null. Of blue-gray splotch of absent goop Un-enlivened by this tempest morn…”
Well done!