[Jeffrey]

h.m.s. acacia

"I'm a thousand years old and I just lost track of my moral code."
- Marceline the Vampire Queen

Interstate 808 beats its way down
past Hell, where good intentions can't exist
nor can they be found on the way, this late
at night when angels retract skinny fists
and laundry lists now that they've made the arch,
horn-rimmed halos above mistailored clothes,
a million wing march through the stars somehow,
proud to be in the buzz. And so it goes,
a swarm gaining steam, realizing dreams
had in secret back in those lucid days
exiled from the altar, the worship team,
tuning their Gibson harps, sharpening rays
to cast like crass crowns into airwaves, skies
where media save the meek and lowly,
only the lonely in brilliant disguise.
But these remain mud pies on Tiber's banks
with turtles nearby whispering of seas
where foremost becomes final in the ranks
and no one reads dry missives or black keys.

[Role Modlin]

I like this one a lot.

I love this section:

exiled from the altar, the worship team,
tuning their Gibson harps, sharpening rays
to cast like crass crowns into airwaves, skies
where media save the meek and lowly,
only the lonely in brilliant disguise.

[Jeffrey]

Thanks, this is a fairly angry poem. But it's sort of a distanced anger that gets a little distracted by its own wordplay. It's about a specific person so it was a good exercise in unhealthy feelings. All I have really written in the past six months has been an "epic poem," so this was meant to stretch my muscles. It might fit in the epic poem if I remove some of the more contemporary references, though I am proud that my ramblings in this poem contain asides to C.S. Lewis, Buddhism, Matthew 5, Orbison, and Springsteen.

The epigraph comes from one of my favorite new shows.

[Role Modlin]

I caught the reference to Mr. Orbison...hence the quoted portion.

I like it when I actually know your references without having to Google them.