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22 Dec 2004
0 CommentsOn Creation
On Creation
Sometimes one must sacrifice
Their whole world, just to gain a piece
Of that otherness, the existence
That hides just outside of reach
That broken thought becomes the Word
That dead messiahs preach
That Word becomes the unheard void
That metaphysics teach
What they seek is not an object
Sacrifice the semi-logic
Chaos brings random to order
To create that crucial conflict
Without which, the design fails
Crumbles into seeming nonsense
Or explodes into something new—
Static thought turns into progress
What happens when it shatters
Do the pieces scatter in the night
Creating something not unlike
Life, just one more mistake of matter
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23 Feb 2013
0 Comments"Our" Sacrifice
“Our” Sacrifice
poetry by Silencio Barnes
She demanded that I cut open my shell
and let drip my burning soul
onto her frigid altar
The steam, she said, that arises
from such a conflagration
would rekindle that imaginary, burning, thing
that we thought we had lost
so long ago
She hands me the knife,
for no sacrifice is sacred
unless done by one’s own hand
We both held our breath
as I raised the blade to Our neck
And once again, as before
the sharp edge pierces only her
And she bleeds
And I, with impassive serenity,
walk away, as I have before
to leave her (bleeding out)
Her wounds will heal,
though I will provide no aide
So the scars: puckered, pulsating and fierce
shall remain
She will live, that we may play
this game, once again
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