Morior Terra

[Whisky in Babylon]

Enjoy.

 

 

Morior Terra

"Dying Earth"

 

She gasps and claws for a breath that will not come,

she holds onto the life that will not return the embrace,

she struggles now not to eternally close her eyes.

 

But they will close.

 

Wash your filthy hands dripping hot still with blood,

stained brown from a womb torn violently open

the plastic knife only grew more keen since the first thrust.

 

Or is the weapon of choice an oil soaked rag slipped around a ivory throat?

What of the finger prints upon a mechanical coil found driven into a silky breast?

 

The culprits sit tall on a throne of death and decay

ensnared in the rapture that is their own arrogance

begging for more to fill the void of an insatiable hunger.

 

Blind to the coming death of all things

ignoring the signs of a coming judgment that will not arrive from an angry god

but from ourselves as we raise the stake for a final blow.

 

And so here we are,

too stupid to treasure the one and only thing that gives us all life,

too buried in our lethargic apathy to do anything about it.

 

Except to die with her.

[Wyvern]

Good poem, Whisky in Babylon. :-) The theme of the dying Earth is nice, and a lot of the imagery that you incorporate is excellent. I particularly like the third stanza, as the line about the plastic knife growing sharper was a very evocative and original image to me. The choice of weapons in the fourth stanza was also great, with the oil rag and the mechanical coil both standing out in a similar way. The only thing that felt a bit off to me in this poem was that the lines felt loaded with words at times, and some of these words felt a bit extraneous. For example, in the excellent weapon stanzas that I mentioned, I felt that "still," "violently," "only," and "upon" (which could be changed to "on") made the lines feel more loaded with language than they needed to be. Less is often more in poetry, so you might consider fine-combing this piece and extracting any unnessecary words if you want to refine it in future revisions.

 

Anyway, this is a very well done poem Whisky in Babylon. :-) Thank you for sharing it.

[reverie]

Taking a break from my marathon round of edits. Just playing around with your line breaks. Doing it by intuition.

 

rev...

 

 

Morior Terra

"Dying Earth"

 

She gasps and claws

for a breath that will not come,

she holds onto the life

that will not return

the embrace, she struggles now

not to eternally close her eyes.

 

But they will close.

 

Wash your filthy hands

dripping hot still with blood,

stained brown from a womb

torn violently open

the plastic knife

only grew more

keen since the first thrust.

 

Or is the weapon of choice

an oil soaked rag slipped around a ivory throat?

What of the finger prints

upon a mechanical coil

found driven into a silky breast?

 

The culprits sit tall

on a throne of death and decay ("decay and death," sound better to my ear)

ensnared in the rapture

that is their own arrogance

begging for more to fill

the void of an insatiable hunger.

 

Blind to the coming

death of all things

ignoring the signs

of a coming judgment

that will not arrive

from an angry god but from ourselves

as we raise the stake for a final blow.

 

And so here we are,

too stupid to treasure

the one and only thing that gives us all life,

too buried in our lethargic apathy

to do anything about it at all.

 

Except to die with her.