Profanities and Plagiarisms: Poetical Musings on Death

My muse escapes me: I can think of nothing profound to add here. It is sufficient to say that the following are all poems that concern themselves with death and thus, also, with life. I had intended to write of my beliefs or rather speculations regarding the nature and virtues of poetry but find myself at a loss for words so shall simply suggest you read Derrida; apparently his theory of such things agrees with mine. I will however ask that you remember this: the quality of art, as it appears to the observer (however hypothetical he is), depends largely upon said observer for art is mirror and ones sees only a reflection. My excuses made, I shall bid you all adieu.

That I might drink of all,
That I might call the gods
And bind them thus into my thrall.
Oh that I could create ethereal planes
And starless skies;
That I might be reborn
Yet of nothing born
But forever borne
By joy and lust
Centred towards, as ever they must
That found when mindfulness dies
That found beyond the star laid skies.

Deus est homo et homo est deus.
Invocat ominis mundi impetus meus!

“On scarlet seas of rose and thorn,
In soft blue skies of summer born,
In vast, fresh fields of emerald hue,
Within the night of gemmèd blue
Thou art graced by sun and rain 
But all too soon by thunder torn,
Ripped asunder by encroaching storm.”

“But fear ye not the harbinger of that new, green dawn
O’ petal of summer and bud of spring,
O’ flower of this years cycle
Who grows in joy as th’ heavens sing.  
Nay fear not that tempest and its dark abyss
For it is naught but an angel’s kiss.”

“Rest, then, now in eternal peace
Where rain and cloud and thunder cease
And know the joys of mid-summer’s bliss
And love the joys of mid-summer’s bliss.” 

 “In the crux of eternity an ecstatic cry is heard
My heart sings with joy from the secret I have learned!
Every child, woman and man should call,
Resplendent in passions thrall,
My love is that of the superman
To surmount God is our wondrous plan.
Nay, nay for God is dead
A successor shall he be named in stead.
For the glory of man!
For the love of man!
An unabated all embracing life force shall be issued forth.
What care we of the unknown source?”

 “Slain in the valley of shadows I lie,
As the gods passed so did I.
Dead to eyes of the kingdom I tried to rest
But I could not for the gods had left.
Defiant I stand in the eye of the storm
Where bitter winds howl and claw.
Resplendent in the eternal desert I cry:
My God has gone; from pity he died!”

 “Not:
No sight, no sound,
No feeling for
There is nothing for
These not to be for.” 

 “Beyond this world of material effect,
Above the sky of crimson clouds,
Yonder, higher than the starry heavens
Set in deep azure abyss;
Can eternity the fiery sun kiss?

Subtle shades of indigo the sea reflects.
Behold you now these brooding waters
For in that cold yet soft caress
A truth, long known, my soul regrets.

What is there beyond the stars and crimson sky?
Is my journey’s end thus nigh?
Shall I find beyond this world
A light that man hath not yet beheld?
And shall the dragon, who once lay slain,
Be resurrect upon a higher plane?
Shall all be realised as I die,
Beyond the stars and crimson sky?”

As my countenance is lost in chaos divine,
As my body falls, lame and supine,
I am still smiling,
I am still smiling.