Leaving Us With Only That Which Is Truly Ours by Hosho McCreesh

Way down in it
like a blue-eyed jackdaw
gagging on his carrion
as the ugly world still
hurtles forth.

Today, at the library
a pederast knelt
filming the young legs of
doe-eyed giglets,
and startled from my
idiotic slumber
I realized that
we are, all of us,
everyday, being
hunted, stalked, and
measured by a
sinister and
unnamed tide.

Yes, there we stood,
nattering on like
skull-hammered sheep,
caught and baying in the
caperlash, convinced we
know some
damn
thing.

We have our notions, and
some kind of morality, sure,
we dream a god with a face
as white and dull as our own–
and somehow,
that’s enough.

But none of it is real,
none of it is ours,
not when the night drips
quiet as a cistern,
not when what’s left is
little more than
the  offscourings,
the rendered tallow,
the rotting giblets,
not when we jangle away
our lives like
last week’s
menavelings.

Only when we take the fash,
only when we we’re caught in the clutches
of a sulphured cumberworld
and our perceptions rejiggered,
only when we are stripped
of the fuffled mind are we
left to that
which is
truly
ours–

and that’s
dying

the one thing
we are given,

the one thing
we’ve been
practicing at
all these
years.

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3 Responses to “Leaving Us With Only That Which Is Truly Ours by Hosho McCreesh”

  1. word glorious. you had me on a ride here – tumbled to the place i didn’t expect. thanks for an exceptional adventure.

  2. Words as true as anything I’ve heard in quite some time.

  3. Thanks for the good words…I appreciate them.

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