Wednesday, October 7, 2009

It started with a poem...

This new series was inspired by a poem I wrote earlier this year...


It has been said,
by men who have battled in the murk of blood and heat,
that fear
tastes like the metallic zap of a tongue
on the node of a double ‘A’ battery.
Filling the head with a peculiar tingle that follows a body
down a dark hall, unknowing.
Sustaining a primal urge ‘til death
or rung dry on other side, heaving - eyes black with things horrible.
There are a few, a small but plush group, who consider this entrée a delicacy-
Relishing the sharply languid yielding of precious metal,
curving against the roofs of their mouths,
munching contentedly as they take their fill,
only to cycle back to the luring once again.

These are the Platinum Eaters.

Best to leave the dark sparkle of their pathways unexplored.
A Sirens’ call to those a bit too curious and wanting-
they are savage creatures who hunger for that which was never alive.
They will deign a bit of gold,
or silver,
if they’re feeling weak from the need of feed,
but will slash and pluck to get their true heart’s desire.
Their groves are a sight to behold as pits-
rubies, emeralds, sapphires, diamonds
-germinate to spawn wicked trees of metal.
Twisting from the earth, calling to their mistresses.

They are the Platinum Eaters

A noble pedigree, they are born from thought, their flaxen headdresses,
a luxurious sheen of pleasure-
And fair faces hiding a void of hypnotic force.
Theirs is an old power,
Granted by a lofty perch that is merely a step on a staircase,
hidden in plain sight to better catch their prey,
and confound the seekers that wish to join them.

the Platinum Eaters

Long-timers with an inevitable destiny,
A mirror to turn their hunger the inside out,
A midwife to new mistresses born.
And new palettes to appease.

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