Africa is the end.
We arranged our visit,
a graceful pursuance
at times a journey.
We grew old in the darkness
as we journeyed without a second glance
into the dark heart of Africa.
But my misfortunes were clear,
my skin too weak;
it is the hardship that leads me here.
Can you skip
to the flogger's song
of watchfulness?
Because those days are dead
and the gesture remained solemn.

The voice of the sheppard
possessed the land
and the plans remained unageing.
For the deeds were never fulfilled
and the endeavour, never settled.
A fallible god once ruled there
with an iron rod and a tolling bell
rattled by the wind,
things that I could never change
but rather forget.

The farmer said onto the sheppard
"I don't know what you should do with yourself,
you have opened the gate; the future
and the incantation in which it contained.
I feel like killing time;
the ignorant period of restoration
once was the incentive
to be alive. And mention in your prayers:
you do not know what you have gotten yourself into...”

The civilians never wished to breed
and the rain poured towards
a recessed state. They seemed ready,
for what was next
was proceeded by oblivion.
Human existence;
a recurring vice.
I remember, the tourist said
to never be happy in a dream,
but I didn't understand-
I never understood,
but this wasn’t quite the truth.

The priest was wailing
and was buried alive-
beside the rugged river of Cavally
and awaits eternal life.
We couldn’t hear
the voice of the mother;
the morning cry she couldn't renounce.
Songs of the voice and the fullness thereof,
she had come to whisper a verse:
"No more rivers at the door,
at last it has found its rightful place.
You wouldn’t understand
what it is I’m after.
Suffer not
the witch to live
of the inner felicity
upon the crest of vanity.
A trackless land into the steady morning
that was guided only by the moaning of doves;
this was the way to hell.
You are the saviour they speak of
at the barren coven.
You once called this the last hour,
the hour of our death.
The sound of the wind,
the crest of waves;
a clarification of thought.
It is not what you want,
to wait in the fire
in which you so badly despise.
These are the last days,
and I have at last come to terms
until the end of the world."

We fared forward
through many green pastures;
a graceful pursuance;
a perpetual journey.
We rested, and the rain lapsed-
I didn’t feel like sleeping
so I receded to the Juniper tree,
there, I found solace.
The strange fruits brought no relief;
the road was filled with desolation,
a much updated ruin
within the jars of tribulation,
the siege of Africa.
The resolution of a dying animal,
I presume and cry out twice,
for what this image could resemble
and resemble much.

Time and madness
wine and lilacs;
the harvest of the mystic brew
the women couldn't bring themselves to drink.
They kept it discreet
from the sowing circle
upon the bleakest hills,
a place to be.
The idea of being cursed resounded me.
Naked old ladies gathered around me,
with leaves in their mouths,
enthroned in limbo.
And with a convoluted smile
they decreed:
“There’s no hope for you here,
like blind men
who grope in the dark,
who were escorted
by the immemorial horn;
you cannot escape.”
And it was so.
Time has told me to never fear;
it was all a distraction
and at once it became a distraction.


I watched Pharaoh’s dance at a distance,
where the demons could no longer sleep
and the poets couldn't bring themselves to sing.
My time is coming
and I’m no longer afraid
for the spirits I no longer embrace.
The problem and the annunciation.
The breakage and the destination;
in convergence,
they no longer discourage me.
By the throne of grace,
my visit remains sincere.
And now I leave.
Last edited by Bleed Away at Dec 18, 2014,
what a read man...I will probably need a few more run throughs to fully grasp the vastness here. there is just so much one could pay attention to here and absorb, and truely think about and relate to his/her life. like i said, a few more read, and i may post more.
Thank you, to those who read this piece; I really do appreciate it guys. . This most likely will be the last piece I will be posting on the main S&L forum for a long while- I would like to grow further as a writer before posting here again, but I will still be around (much like SYK and Steve II). If you have any queries concerning the piece, please do not hesitate to post your comments here, or PM me.

(even though I don't drink alcohol )
Last edited by Bleed Away at Nov 3, 2009,
This is a beautiful piece. The emotion it carries with it in images paints feelings just as much as it does the intricate work of creation, and plays on a godly view, where god is clearly scarce. This had an epic poem feel to it, and you have worked both the narration and characters in such a manner that suited the overall meaning. For me this was about life, but anything but my own, and I was intrigued throughout the piece and the point of view you've presented was so very well crafted.

I enjoyed this very much and thought it was a well deserved wotw.
This is not a pipe