m.t. whitington


A force majeure, female catalyst, futurist, polemicist, psychonaut, epistemologist. Ruminating between the lines with a clarion call and extreme unction.  A global writer with southern roots.


Anomaly

Anomaly

Anomaly...

                   Inner grace blinds, manifested

on sweet angular distance from this oddity

a cut across the apsides. Tattooed on many hearts

and minds in the long count another glorious anomaly.

All those years, a work of art beautiful as they are,

add them to that long list... blackstar, darkstar.

Command us to look up at heaven to read your homily,

born upside down as we all are, hanging catenary

flesh on a cord of life forced from the nothingness.

Show the savages how to gather dignity,

rise into that nothingness floating on semiclassical gravity.

From barbaric chaos, pale duke our don of Sanctity,

played the game and won with authenticity.

Remind us we are alive... blackstar, darkstar.

Did you pass mine on your way before that earthstar,

that judge of good and bad deeds? Inside scars

of pain and suffering begging to follow my precious anomaly,

stuck here listening to Lazarus in the snowmelt and vines,

of my forever after, we push against his g-force congregation,

his short years a work of art just as beautiful as a dead star.

Show us how to be alive… blood negative, gifting death

and honors in a permanent mark on another’s skin,

remind us we are alive... blackstar, darkstar.

 

 

                   In salvation, as beautiful as they are,

 

stardust floats past saturn’s beams circled

by colorful rings, metallic hydrogen and iron nickel

all the divine symmetry, cut by g-d’s sickle,

serrated and torn to pieces by the light reaper

and the broken clavicle of solomon. Strong

constitutions, singing along, skip around the planet taking pictures.

Orbiting tin cans sliced by a knife sharpened on both sides,

you said it cuts both ways helping us understand

everything is connected in the music of the spheres.

Look up at the many heavens layered before us

Did you pass them by? Rise like Cassiel in solitude and tears,

step into a wardrobe and save us from the sickness of our souls.

remind us we are alive... blackstar darkstar.

All those years a work of art, beautiful as they are,

look up at heaven where inner light makes us blind.

Beyond that bluebird with death nesting

just behind the sockets of his eyes,

make us see him over our shoulders

with the beatitude of bluebird voices in the sky,

as simple a your last couplet just as free as can be.

Remind us we are alive...blackstar, darkstar!

 

                   everything you thought you had

 

was just passing through. everything you thought you knew,

knew you better than you! Little bluebird melting truths,

stop trying to find yourself in rainbows...create yourself.

Stop believing you were made to watch and wonder.

Get that bluebird out of your head, that fear of growing older.

Eating up tragedy like Oedipus suffocating on eternal return,

how many times has man fell to earth? Funny it's the 5:15,

and still no one has broken his fourth wall, not even me!

Begging not to burn with those who wait for the coming,

angels have gone forever taking their scars and drama.  

Ain’t that just like you to claim everybody knows you now,

Hurt like Cash shined on a King’s closure under pressure, solemnly.

Thanks for the gift. I've got nothing left to lose now,

writing my own outro, I am a blackstar... darkstar anomaly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Storm

The Storm

The Midnight that Few Sleep

The Midnight that Few Sleep