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Thread: The Harvest

  1. #1
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    The Harvest

    Pardon us for sabotaging the harvest
    and hanging the neck of your Babylon in its gardens.
    But we’ve developed a ritual that ripens the darkness.
    You can grab a bottle of holy water to chase the blood.
    We made the sky starless from snorting all of the dust.
    The crops are compromised, and I know that you’re starving
    (hungry for the sacrifice that you have come to love).
    We puked a plague of locusts in formation of a flood.
    The nights went by as we consumed many moons.
    One was the shade of blue, made the sky cry like monsoon.
    The celestial bodies in our stomachs made us sick.
    We would watch for your ghost during the hour of a witch
    and stretch our guts until they were gluttonous balloons.
    Forged a festival to celebrate the burning of a bridge.
    Stars eaten, we stared into the eye of the abyss,
    counting the coin-tosses of a two-sided eclipse.
    But you had a hand in the damage that collected.
    As we consumed the moons, you doused out the sun
    and bled the earth through its underbelly to its guts.
    You siphoned all the nutrition from its intestines.
    Locusts flew out of our mouths, drawn to the crops.
    We vomited the cocoons shed by wings with moon rocks.
    You were confident that we wouldn’t feel the pulse.
    The clouds were going to rain clouds instead of rain.
    That’s when we decided to burn your bridge at the stake
    and subject you to the eternal judgment of the flames.
    We should have known that the harvest was indigestible.
    Made certain there would be no reason for a festival.
    Weathered from misfortune with the mark of the trivial,
    and the scarred fibers are telling us the feeling’s mutual
    as we wait our turn for the noose of your gardens.
    No one to be excused for the ruin of the harvest.

  2. #2
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    Im not sure if I can fully gather what the poem means from you, but it is full of a tremendous amount of emotion that is inescapable, albeit dark and disturbing. Are we the locusts, bellies engorged, over-consumed ourselves to death? So much has changed in my lifetime alone, the global population just keep growing and events like Covid-19 are predicted to just keep occurring. We have abused our Earth, life is out of balance, tipping towards death.

    Im glad to see you are writing on here again.

  3. #3
    The Wolf of Larsen WolfLarsen's Avatar
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    Great poem! It's alive!
    "...the ramblings of a narcissistic, self-obsessed, deranged mind."
    My poetry, plays, novels, & other stuff on Amazon:
    http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr...or=Wolf Larsen

  4. #4
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    Quote Originally Posted by Shadowlight View Post
    Im not sure if I can fully gather what the poem means from you, but it is full of a tremendous amount of emotion that is inescapable, albeit dark and disturbing. Are we the locusts, bellies engorged, over-consumed ourselves to death? So much has changed in my lifetime alone, the global population just keep growing and events like Covid-19 are predicted to just keep occurring. We have abused our Earth, life is out of balance, tipping towards death.

    Im glad to see you are writing on here again.
    You're on the right track thanks for reading, Shadowlight.

  5. #5
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    Quote Originally Posted by WolfLarsen View Post
    Great poem! It's alive!
    Thank you lol Frankenstein

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