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Monster Media 1993 #2
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S&M-16
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1993-05-30
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2KB
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87 lines
▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄
░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░Turtles to a phantom sea░░░░░by Charles Hornstein
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Turtles
to a phantom sea.
There is a darkness over there...
beyond the horizon
undefined,
like the formulations
of an impending
storm.
Perhaps
it was a reflection
in the morning mirror?
A pair of eyes transfixed
by energies transformed.
Or maybe just a simple refrain
in an otherwise total silence?
"There is no space to place the dead.
There is only room for dying..."
The lines ending
in memory of an ancestral interment,
hardly noticed at the time,
yet now held close
and examined for a clue.
A stone
upon a tombstone.
Turtles to the sea.
The Battling X'Ordinares
in a tag team wrestling match with death.
The father, once massive and forbidding,
waves a martyr's smile to the crowd,
then limps to his corner pretending
that he has concealed the pain.
The arrogance and pride which sustained him
through a lifetime of loneliness seeps
increasingly through the pores of his skin
like so much air from a balloon.
In desperation
he tags Mother,
but nothing moves except flesh
in quivering folds.
During the course of the match
misuse and various masturbations
have transmogrified her
into a humanoid toad
with little more
on her mind
than to effortlessly
croak.
But the fans in the stands
demand lots more falls.
Why, there's bowels to be burst
and gangrene and worse.
A few tubes from the head.
Lots of blood to be bled.
To say nothing of moans
and the snapping of bones.
Then there's swelling and smelling
and gurgling groans.
Go on is the chant.
Hold on is the rant.
Prolong and Prolong and Prolong.
A seaward seaside song
of foam and sand and air.
The scent of desperate scrambling
seaward home.
-end-
Copyright (c) 1993 Charles Hornstein