Unnamed Poem (warning: long)

[KakeiTheWolf]

I recently finished a very long poem (about 9 pages in MS Word), and I was wanting feedback. The poem is ten parts, those parts being separated by three lines, summarizing my inner struggle and fight, through my greatest issues and my wickedness and inefficacy I have fallen prey to for the lack of my own vigilance. But it builds to a message of tranquil hope, before it closes the final part with what could be a poem on its own, a humble but pure and heartfelt proclaimation of continuous praise to God, by whom I am alive still.

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What am I, but a wanderer, he to pick grain in the field?
Where am I to be, that wretches and kings alike shall not throw me to the wolves like a carcass?
Why am I in such way, that the edges of a map I shall scour, and I shall never be able to respite?
When will my madness end, that I can finally be free from both the prodder's goad and pirate's cutlass?
Who am I, to deny the truth and present the lie I have, when even those miseries are fantasy's shield?

O, you men, you know nothing of my bitter flesh, my acrid bone. You have not been cast into this life as I.
From the rotten vines of Hell below to the glorious brim of Heaven above, do I every die scream for forgiveness.
The life of a captive is no easy road, but the nobles know not of this fact when they strike at the men in debt.
Burn your aristocratic clothes, dismantle your pedestals of false glory! For he who loses his soul is the one who with it is reckless.
Ignoble are the lofty men who cast forth hatred and judgment, as he who is in love with his life will, in irony, eventually die!

So look upon me! Look upon me, shattered and razed by the mountains, blasted and torn by the rivers of Wormwood.
I bear no fruit, I am a lifeless tree. In no way can I cast judgment, and I do not, for judges are judged by one.
A man shall, in ignorance, forfeit all if he leaps off a cliff, but he can be redeemed if he slips down the rocks instead!
Hark, and note well my story, for it shall serve you well. For my mistakes show clear wounds, and you can see the damage done.
Lost and a leper, I am a monument to hurt and suffering, more bound in the destructive bands of wicked erosive metal than I should.

So tell me, Catena, why have I been slashed and gored by this frozen spire, and cast in webs spun in horrid nacre amongst unholy fire?
Violent streams of lacriment embrace my lonely cheeks, as I tear at this jagged tormentuous collar, that rips away flesh and bone alike!
And as I shriek in this demonic nightmare you have set before me, these iron binds and cursed rope defiled what little sanctity I've kept.
I claw and bite and scrape my husk of a shell of a body against the walls, in futile hope I can eviscerate this evil joug, before my final hour does strike!
Even when this evil waltz of blood and plague shall end their final cadence, even still shall my bones ever be exposed, for my pain is your desire!

What then can I do as I rot away? I've spent every drop of blood and fury I have to say that I can have the freedom of a bird.
In my final moments, my heart slowly decays, because in your disgusting malice, I've left to float away, paralyzed by your sting.
My whole aches for solitude, for I cannot escape. I am in the damnation of this tower, waiting to waste away and finally receive the key.
For, Catena, even you shall not follow me to Sheol! You made my body wreckage but death shall free my soul! And I pity you, miserable thing.
When I die, no longer shall I be split, my foundation longer cloven. When my sun sets and the star jubilantly rejoice, the shrouded city shall be the word.



I lie in the ebon meadow, the grasses and fields begat of ashes and despair, to ponder the silence and the heavens
For I have been cast away, a light failing, a victim of inefficacy and amaranthine flaw, victim of my burned flesh
As I am awake, I am a confused animal, regressing into bestial way, clutching to the earth as I stare at the stars
As I do dream, I am a beast of lunacy, torn by my divaricative way, the clear victim of this unspeakable nightmare
The road is unclear and uncertain, for I am driven to wander by the chains I bear, for all men of urges are slaves
Hardly can a way be clear, though, when it is me at fault, for as much as I ask for forgiveness, I still do wander
In a world where everything is wrong, and where everything is poisonous, you cannot very well expect good judgment
Sadness takes me, for what I once was is not a thing I can be, because if you drink a poison, you will be poisoned
The people who drink from a river mean to survive, but when the river turns miasmic, you can only drink pestilence
Important words are silences, thoughts are muddled and warped, and life becomes a question of what you will become
There is not a good word to pierce the darkness, men tell you that you must join them and revel in their vile ways
Search for your life, but in all that time, you will not find goodness, for this world has forsaken it for nothing
I am but a page in a book, my words are short and finite, and you will move on from me, for I am of scarce meaning
How the distant waters tremble, yet how few see a flood come, and many believe it had not purpose or reason at all
The flood is an event, a passing, but in chaotic nature, men can so reveal their heart and nature, if not too late
A single drop of poison can destroy the river, as does single drop start a flood, yet both are absolved by all men
A voice must pierce the dark, and a message must come from light, but the men of Earth will not listen to any love
Far be it from the way of the world to choose to be pure and far be it from a man to say they are the one to blame
I lie in the ebon meadow, and as a watch a world of pain and desolation of sorrow go by me, I now repent, dear God



And yet, despite my inefficacy, and how I have failed you, I pursue diligently in faith in God.
The wolf desires to no longer be chained, to no longer be caged, to no longer bear a muzzle to silence him.
He longs to be free from his cruelties upon man and beast, and wishes to have his feral, bestial nature silenced.

Yet he must atone, and repent, that he may rebuild the cathedral he broke.
Penance must come from consequence, and that so from action, and that so from a choice, and that so from deliberative thought and philosophy.
Let his work and his labour remind him of the ruination he spreads, the damage he causes, the transgressions he makes, and of the desolation, solemnity and loneliness he is subject to now due to his actions.

He can pray all he wants, and he will be forgiven in the eyes of God, but he must pay the price, on Terra, for his wickedness, his sins, his iniquities.
He must be humiliated and led on a leash like a slave dog, before the world of men, so that they may cast their eyes upon him, and he cast his eyes upon them, so he may see what he has done.
A solemn wolf of honour, he was once. But through the devastation of his unholy and ungodly was, by the doctrine he has broken, he has become a weak and helpless fox, divaricated and alone.



And somehow, we do not realize that, indeed, we are not back where we started.
The road ahead is as haze of ebony, and the past is cursed pavement struck in iron and marble.
May we be so blessed as to never judge, for we bear not the power nor mind to judge with.

For only the Lord God above may define us and weigh against us our sorrows and sins, to have life's blood stricken to stone or turned to aether.
Hatred is the way of the Dragon, his cruelty immeasurable upon the Earth, and even the iniquitous deserve not his vile medicines.

And so, peoples of Earth, beseech I of thee, to cast thine eyes to the crown of the stars, racked in stone, an effigy of the immortal, divaricated for our own inefficacy.
The wicked have not learned of sleep, and they rest in Cocytus, thrashing violently on account of the horrid wounds of Acheron.
There is no respite for a man who decides it is wise to chain himself to a whitewashed wall, subject to the ruination brought forth by the West Wind.



Lying, quartered, in the glassen world of the Abyss, lay the shadow of a man.
Tossed about in the fire and water, no sooner than he is engulfed in flames he is doused.
He feels the cold, icy Hell below, ever trying to snare his soul, as he slips on his blood in the ashes underneath him.
He is taunted by the warm rays of Heaven above, an everlasting reminder of his goal, giving him hope in a world where he is flung from light to shadow constantly.

He looks to the sky, wreathed in raining fire and lead, and screams out for convalescence and respite, forces which flee his sight then rush to him at time later.
The ground burns like brimstone, the air chokes like a miasma, and the waters of the streams ensure death comes to all.
The man burrows his talons in his temples, trying to keep that terror with from rising...
But he knows that he is blind as he was before, a tower he razed and rebuilt.

Look to the ground, dog! Look before you to where darkness shall take you! No disease of the mind can give you happiness, for poison only can kill.
A nothingness, you are... that you must be shackled and collared, tied in chains, like a mindless, insatiable, feral beast, without any continence.
Be tossed to the wind, if you wish to rip yourself apart, you desolate wolf. You will find that drinking poison hurts much worse than breathing it.
And why should a man listen to you whining in pain? Your calls will travel the winds, but you will never be heard, for you long ago took your life.



From the view of infinity, upon the spire upon which am bound in metal nails and ferrum chains, sit I, a worn and battered sentinel
Let me speak three times, of a setting of this tower, to be razed and rebuilt, for that shall stand a punishment for my vapid shell
Spun is my life not as a tale, but as a fugue, my soul to be ink waltzing across the vellum sanctuary below, that only the end makes it complete
My melody is chaotic and terrifying, my counterpoint like the bolts of lightning from the hand of God; To all but the writer, inanity is replete
Thrust in pirouettes through the scherzo and lulled in the calamitous waters of the intermezzo, until the crescendo finally strikes
And to what may I be shown? What is it, Lord above, that makes so needed being sent from viridian hill to Catena? Perhaps the pike?

Calmed waters rest below as I am a restless pariah, a madness upon the Earth in whole
Battered and razed by the wicked men, who made me a serpent to writhe in my vile soul
I cannot find peace in their ways; they are dumb and confused, and cannot understand why they do their wicked ritual
I retch the drink they spew forth, for it is not good, and I feel the rot of my bones as they revel in that habitual
I shiver in this frightening hell, my soul drained and cast to Hell, nothing anymore!
Begat into thorn and branch, houghed into a violent stance, made to seek others' gore

Driven to the brink of Sheol, cast by Abaddon forth, I whispered in the violent air for a peace
And I was repaid with fire and pain, but my eyes now saw their evil ways, how irony shant cease
For when I was whipped, my heart grew cold like the vernal rains upon the forsaken ice, I became a monster just as them
My loveless body turned to ash, my tongue of wire bled me as my teeth I did gnash, all the same from that ungodly stem!
But beyond the obscured shard of my darkened haze, Heaven pierces my chest and breathed me full
Drawn out of a daemonic world, drenched in lead and crimson drink, I felt Heaven above did pull

A wasted light, lost of days, drenched in the shadow of the fires below, I was chained as an animal, a beast whom none could love
Struck was I upon the face, that skin and muscle tear from my face, as hellhounds binged upon me, that I perish like a frail dove
I howled and screamed in anguish to my tormentors, that I may be let free and taste the rain of heaven and feel the wind of the plains once more
But choked was I upon my collar and rope, to be blasted and ruined upon the gallows, a testament to a desolate world of men who hate to the core
To run in fright in a hopeless nightmare, surrounded by walls of daemons who prey upon your own dreams and fears, so you do drown
The water holds like a vise and cuts like a knife, and you may beg for death, but there is no one who will listen as you go down!

The sea runs cold like a blizzard, as you thrash in your lunacy to try to stay warm, that you do not become death
Torrential rains and rays of Hell, the breath of Acheron and Pyriphlegethon upon your whole, as you sink in Lethe
The angel of the sky above shall hear, for your pain shall shatter her ear, that for all you lack in your breast in whole, there is a word
Holding to the promise of a rainless world is rare enough, as Utopia seems oft too little a prize for the pain of the world this eye heard
Projection of this machinacha, this mechanickal creation of Anima and Mortis, learn of the sorrow of he who fades
For the world is projected in rails of fire, and the world has basked long enough in the presence of these shades

To speak of the fugue is to speak of a memory, an incredible divarication into a constant spiral of ruination and salvation
A passage again and again repeated in the sorrow of a way, that I am dressed in a deceiver's hide as I merit from damnation
Pelted with sticks and rocks, and forced to become drunk on liquers, the bottles of which must be delivered upon my being to inherit
Cast in foreign sands, to lick the undressed wounds of lifelessness and sorrow, a bewildered and confused animal without but a merit
Ire boils in the eyes of the men who are and always are to be, until the Rock shall fall to Terra, and greatly they want it
And how this baffled fox of fugue shall dance in its restless woe, until pestilence no longer rides the mist of the Old Pit

And this, my friends, is the mystery of the fugue. It is of fear and wonder, of woe and joy, of song and silence
There comes a time when all must sing in the chorus, and there is a time to stay silent, quiet in icy rain hence
And what am I, to repudiate the penning of God's work, he who orchestrates the greatest symphony of all, the majesty of Earth?
A man should not question his form or tempo, his metre or key, for no wisdom of a man can tell him a single note of his worth!
A chapter has come and has not passed, but all shall as all have, and all will, that is the way of my great joug
That, my dear friends, dear ladies and gents, is in whole and upon you so, all there is to the art of the fugue!



To kill to keep peace means to forfeit peace

O, wicked men, hear forth, you who speak as judges
Binding men by the wick of lead to the tabernacle of the grave
You breath is unholy, your ungodly words revolting
The machinacha you divine your false honour from is but a mask
You waltz about as sanguine and vile fools blindly
Making a killing field to glorify yourself as if a living God!

Basalt and granite shall be your tomb in the fiery rain
A robe of ash shall clothe you as you lap blood like a vicious dog
Loveless thing, judge and be judged, you cannot see now
For a world of blades is a cold and desolate coffin to lay oneself
Take action as you will, but tell no men to worship you
As ash to ash and esssse to esssse, as you kill, so you are killed



By the nature and power of this tongue, shall I speak in the darkness and the light, of the darkness and the light in me.
You see, I am a man shattered and shorn, having the pieces of his identity cast away in waters without depth and dust.
That, in which we strike in the fifth and once beyond thrice in the nineteenth and a final time in the fifth.
I am driven through by the ivory spire, which through my body shall reflect upon the nation shimmering comets and blessed stars bearing various names, as innumerable as the sands of the deserts.
I am divided by the roaring jaws of a malicious tongue, that makes my body shiver with furious ague, and cloven in twain is my final bulwark, that my spine is split and cracked in the hopelessness of pestilent waters, where the devious hounds shall devour me.
But beyond all this, beyond the pain and the blindness of the darkness of the past, there lies a light. Guided through blooded crags was I, lost and confused in the torrents of frozen rain that solidified my blood upon the rocks. Every moment, sanguine rapids broke out forth upon the loam, as I bit my tongue furiously in pain, trying to force back the gushing crimson foam upon my lips.
Racked with horrific ague was my body, as I screamed and bellowed in anguish as I slid my hands upon the thorns, slowly climbing to healing.
And when I reached the doors, I furiously broke and tore and shattered the chains, as lightning roared through my body with inhuman and indescribable force.
Finally, my hand, razed and battered and destroyed, wreckage of exposed bone and shattered wound, slipped upon the knob and opened the door.
And that man embarked on an everlasting journey for light. I came out of the dark and into the light. The former fades out as the latter fades in.



Woe to me, stricken upon my vile flesh, false and foreign! So be that fate when I breathe in the horrid world a message of malice.
Requiem and dirge will follow the work of these nihilistic hands, idols of ferrum, infinitely weighted by the gravity of past sin!
I shall built a cathedral of adamant and nacre, of jewel and aurum, and it shall be my joug, and my joug to be my tomb in the end.
Passed in desperation, clothed in nails, filled with glass from a shattered Hell, shall my body be if I do break my immortal oath!

And speak I still of further pain, wounds I lick before rain will raze and before fire will burn, elsewhere, past and present too.

Dressed in coldness, wrapped in ice, twisted and wracked in a horrid device, am I between Holy Heaven above and Wicked Hell below.
The light I am called to embraces me as the pestilent phantom of Naufragare tear apart the flesh of my back, and fear it not do I!
Colossal storms and endless rains ensue, my wholly chained nightmare self planted to waters, a left of clay and a right of ferrum.
The West is plunged in Narigheid, consummate fire of a bloodless heart, the East cast to Verufschwen, a hatred, God, to spite you!
Damnation births no respite to one's core, the voracious fumes from stagnant crimson waters e'er more to Heaven flow in betrayals.

And for the love of a forgotten soul, birthed of hell and buried deep in coal, ne'er to see fires blaze, I must speak of the past.

Poisoned in Styx's bank before I choked in Lethe, frozen to my icy soul as I shivered to my very bone, wracked in miserable fires!
I was bathed in tepid wind, torn from light and destroyed again, all for the sake of a venom that burned too deep for me to fight.
Restoration was no gift of the horizon, no hope boon to my heart, dead as the ashen ground of the Grave, no word to be my panacea!
Woe was first in guttural form, before the air rebelled in storm, as a clock screams for my final day, I pray not to die this way.



God's fire birthed to me! I call to the fiery heavens, let me sing old and new!

To God, I write this holy poem, in just honour and righteous faith.
O, undying Judge, King of Kings, Lord God!
Tell me, what do I have to offer thee but my heart and my eternal love?
For, who am I? I am not but dust to be returned to the zephyrs of the north.
Shall not the grave overtake me too, as all birthed of womb before and after myself until the rapture?
I lie as a beast, spitefully thrown into mud, cold and shivering.
As I lie in chains, my tears burn.

Yet, you wipe them away, and tell me something that no one else will: I am loved.
But how much do I speak of the mundane and the weak, the wreck that is my meaningless circumstance.
It is not a poem I write in the gravity about my broken will I must speak on, this is not a poem to glorify myself, but rather, you.
Speak will my tongue, as all nations will, of every tribe and facet of the face of man, upon the tremendous light you radiate.
Speak will I, of your unfailing love and infinite splendor, the magnanimous way of your wonderful self and the exaltation of your mercy will resound from my lips!
The Earth is but your footstool, Terra bends her knee to your will. From the moment of Genesis, you have been the Powerful Judge of Heaven.
We, the people, owe our all, we have only our hearts to give, in great thunderous praise that befits none but you, for we can build ourselves no fitting crown.
The power you hold is beyond comprehension, the beauty you hold is beyond diamond and gold. The wealth of the earth, it is nothing compared to your majesty!
Unspeakable is the way of your throne and kingdom, no lip can birth words to describe it. No praise can be given, no hymn sung, no symphony made, to describe you.
For endless eras one could write upon your glory, that a thousand libraries of a thousand wings of a thousand bookcases of a thousand shelves of a thousand
tomes of a thousand chapters of a thousand pages of a thousand words could be written upon the subject of your glory, and this still can never suffice.
We cannot describe what is infinite, and that is the very nature of your glory.
To your infinite glory, I give my soul and heart, in exaltation, and cry out to the vast sky: "Holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, blessed Preceptor of the Heavens!".
You are God, we are your servants immortal. Praise be to Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit!

Creation, Creation, sing! Your master calleth you to sing! Serenade and bring a great melodious voice from thy lips!
Thunder, thunder! Join, my brothers, in our great chorus!
All Creation, run to the Temple, fall onto thy knees and shout in praise! The immortal Lord is here before us, let us all worship his holy glory!
Holy, holy, are you, O Great Father above, let us sing this humble ode, eternally blissful in your light! Let there be light to reign forever, the darkness has no foothold!
Voice like thunder, touch like wind, a pure heart beyond all waters, you are verily incredible to behold! Holy, holy, are you, O Loving Son above, let us sing forever of your wonderful love and mercy, which we men did not deserve! Love and peace will rain forever, for you were cruelly slain for us!
Taken in the Ninth by Sheol, to balance our cruel and unjust ways! Sent to spiral froward to Heaven, rising from the ash to buy thy children back from shadows!
Holy, Holy, are you, O Holy Ghost! Your light and power reign forever, in everlasting glory!
Praise God! And all creation shouts from Genesis to Rapture, Amen!


And in the fires of immortal praise, let us sing to the end of days, that he is great, just, and right, the Father of all blessed Light!
Let Hell find its tomb, the darkness cannot stay, flee to your womb! Ne'er shall the glory fade, upon these tranquil crystal rays, in this divine glade!
Call from Earth, call from Heaven, even Hell shall glorify New Eden! Coarsing through our veins like heroic fire, be the Hallelujahs of God's desire!

Santimonious community, wrapped in beatific revelry! All Creation see, the glory that is He!
The magnificent love by the sun and moon, eternal, ne'er they die soon! Terra, emerge from thy cocoon, and in metamorphosis shall be your boon!
Separate from fire and ice, riches we share shall our souls suffice! Good men in need dire, praise God in Jerusalem's jacinth spire!

Come and fly on wings of lofty silver light, leave to perish your iron chains, that struck you down to sea! Nothing to fight, leave all your pains, and live in glory!
Let us sing a million songs, blessed odes of a cherished Garden, we shall sound trumpets of pearl! Ne'er in the wrong, ne'er be peaceless men, ne'er to see a churl!
All the world call to Spirit, blessed Holy one! All the world call to the Father, each person a daughter or a son! All the world call Messiah, for by him, we have won!

Great fire flows, all splendor shows, upon the morning light, we raise our hands to him of Might!
Such a perfect assembly, of all the good Lord's men, a final act of mercy, we have now what was then!
Traipse in blissful tranquility, the world is no longer broken, we have seen the light, it came with agility!
Such a wondrous air, of all the ways of God, now that we are not so cold, and he destroyed the Dragon's rod!
Great water springs, from all the heavenly things! The holy creatures God was to employ, they too praise the king that brights them joy!
Such resplendid grace, that falls from the skies! Free in laughter and free from sorrow, free in love and free from lies!
Traipse and burn in virility, the magnanimous days have come, and we have just begun, to deploy our laughter in his Grace to our full ability!
Great wind blows, Caelum's wonder glows, we praise him who slew the Dragon of Night, we praise him and rejoice for he has made us just and right!

All the world, dance in laughter! All the world see his promise, for now and ever after! All the world shine forever, we survived the storm we had to weather!
Let us cry out in bliss, God's perfection is no longer broken, we have seen the light! E'er the darkness hiss, E'er is beauty spoken, E'er we love this sight!
Come and celebrate the reward of Heaven, community of precious gold, that we can walk inside! Everything shall our hearts leaven, run about like days of old, in pride!

Separate was wheat from chaff, victory on our behalf! Any man who walked by the Calf, we hold not forth Heaven's Staff!
The magnificent mercy of our Lord, our great and just reward! To refrain from what God abhorred, that was the path to be restored!
Sanctimonious world of godly love, once below, to rise above! Heard long ago and kept note of, fit to heart like hand to glove!

Call to Earth, Call to Heaven, Call to even Hell of joy ne'er to lessen! The King of Kings and Lord of Lords reigns forever, the end of eternity's endeavour!
Let Hell flee from us, we have found our rest, and it shall have no power! The final days are here, we have told our story, and long had we awaited this hour!
And in the fires of immortal praise, let us shout to the end of days, that the Lord God Almighty has won, and our tale of praise is done!

[KakeiTheWolf]

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