The Monastery

1

I will explain,

Fervent whispers have lead me here,

Out into the wilds of a morose sierra,

Black hills rooted in fog, as sharp teeth,

Declaring a need to bite the yellow sky,

Tear into the flesh, a dead yellow,

Emoting only dull shades of its former hue,

Wayward gusts skitter through the range,

Perched on these errant winds I sway,

Called into the onyx and amber landscape,

Feelings of betrayal weigh on my heart,

I wish to speak on this, convey intent,

Confusion trails a caw snapping from a beak,

Neither lips nor articulate tongue, a beak,

Ebony wings find purchase on the winds,

Shedding black wisps from ethereal foliage,

A covering, slated with alien symbols,

Colored black and tan, dirty, worn,

Crowning my head and should blind me,

It continues along the length of the torso,

Trailing out behind the tuft of feathery wisps,

I feel perplexed about this body,

But it acts out my will not to plummet,

I travel onward.

I will explain,

Control, independence, shallow concepts,

I am to travel, the Monastery beckons me,

Disheartened, I acquiesced the request,

Careening through the heavens,

My location begins its revelation,

Mountains rise and fall below, a single path,

Cobblestones, small and far away,

Cutting through the valleys, singular in direction,

A gray line drawn into the black canvas,

Banking, nose diving, leveling and landing,

Curved stone, pocketed and ruff,

This is a long isolation I am disturbing,

Where the cobbled road ends, a structure,

The Monastery, isolated, profound, sacred

A square coliseum, yellowed stone, brick,

The same dead pigment wretched on the sky,

Under the many arches, various sculptures,

Unholy visages, poor beings and horrid conquerors,

The first hall, interior, flat stonework floor,

Endless variation of square tilling, fitted, flat,

Walls demonstrate sophistication, class,

Same effigies, though, same dissection,

If I were to study, yes, a closer appraisal,

Orcs in full armor, sword to the side,

A human knight in hand, writhing by its captor,

Orcish hands into the knight’s chests with purpose,

Souls for the necropolis, tis pleasurable,

Gnarled expression, curled into a smile,

Scarred core, refined musculature, broad chest,

Blistered bones wrapped in red and vinegar,

Anointed warriors for the unbalanced king.

I will explain,

I can feel… eyes, vultures, residents here,

They sustain the heavy purpose, bedeviled monks,

Proud bastards, wheezing a nervous breathe,

Black tattered robes, huddled together, debating,

The “holy ones” bickering over archaic doctrines,

Observing ill taken truths, spouting false recreations,

I intrude, a few take notice, annoyed, look at them,

Foul, behind the hood, a vulture head extends,

Fleshy neck, crawls in the air, waving unnaturally,

Snakes move similarly, sans snapping nib,

I approach, wary, my existence may offend them,

They shuffle, curling inward, tightly packed,

Bodies as a phalanx, defending their separate cliques,

Whispers, tone says contempt, inclusive hate,

Backwards kick, I taste iron, I feel heat,

Distant groups rasp and heave a snicker,

I forget my place and turn to the inner monastery,

A small hole shows a golden glint, treasure,

Greed inhabits my thoughts, mind blanks,

I am carried forward.

I will explain,

The break runs long through thick rock work,

Gold is the light, dark is where I inhabit,

I feel giddy, so close, so convenient,

A thief with an in, a perfect score, mine!

I am careful to walk on the pads of these feet,

No need to alert the master of the Monastery,

With hubris, I defile my sense of danger,

Wisps of black spiral, drop and cloud the area,

LOST SOUL, REACQUAINT TO ME, RELAX AND BE ASSURED

DEATH IS YOUR KINSMAN, REST FOR THE REAPER!

The light furrows and closes, shackles in the black,

Smoke billows into my lungs, twisting my nerves,

Eyes eaten away from the inside, organs scream,

Chest heaves in response to merely take on more ick,

My body contorts and gyrates for the entrance,

The body is failing, taking on the mire, lungs expanding,

Pop…pop.

2

Allow me to explain,

Faded yellow greets my eyes, memory guides me,

Black mountains rake the sky, angry snaps,

Gnashing for a taste of dead flesh,

Wayward winds fill my wings, thrust me forward,

Oh bother, memory informs me, angers me,

My sense of survival plummets, as do I,

Screeching in horror, I scratch and claw,

Pecking and picking at myself, skin flecks off,

Hoping for falsehoods in my assault of the flesh,

Hoping for the past form to be under the skin,

Looking to pain to recoup my freedom,

Regression to archaic self-forgiveness, or is it loathing?

I merely exacerbate my predicament, clipping my wings,

The head cracks and seeps but the body still breathes,

The beak grinds as I help myself onto these feet,

Wincing, hacking up fluids, orienting to a path,

Cruel chance places me on the campus, I snarl,

Snapping at the building, I hobble, craggy cobblestone,

Such pathways snag my flayed skin, rip..rip,

Scab trails coagulating behind me, tinted reflections,

I take inventory; beak cracked, flight decimated,

Bleeding from an unknown number of wounds,

Strolling forward to the monastery, with a debt,

I possess a stagnated mind.

Allow me to explain,

I conceive of the huddled vultures, crafting myth,

Delivering curdled stares awash with disappointment,

Those wretched carvings hoisted high, porn of dissection,

The black, a wretched end, a return to oblivion,

Shackled to each reiteration of my passing,

The litany is a bit excessive for the misconduct of theft,

Good kings shouldn’t be complacent with clemency,

Wrong doings have me overlooking the decreased occupancy,

Swift is the kick, taste the iron, rethinking my own movements,

Curses flow from my foreign tongue, what am I?

Color flows from my inflections, carrying weight,

I follow the color to see only a few clusters of the “holy”,

A shudder, twitch, nervous breathing, eyes on me,

Murmurs in an ancient tongue, no weight,

The monastery has lost something, foundation impurities,

The drop in numbers has no tell, no evidence of evictions,

Vindictive “holy ones” have simply receded,

I ponder this loss as I begin to study for more changes,

I begin to consider the carvings,

They do not have the same color of cruelty,

A loss of blood lust, perhaps, mild mannered,

An act performed out of need, or repetition,

Such acts do loose weight, purpose,

Each figure as dead as the victim,

Loss of passion, absent a sanguine outlook,

I linger, I purposely linger.

Allow me to explain,

An uneasy sway begets my fear,

My eyes look for the black cavern, a regret,

Upon the wall, I can see shadow cuffs,

Ash fused to stone depicting a final struggle,

My pace slows, I look for any attack,

The head lowers, as if I was strong enough,

The last few feet see my eyes closed, waiting,

Curiosity begins to outweigh fear, light floods in,

Fractured stonework lays underfoot,

The squared inner room has no ceiling,

But has the feeling of a dried well,

A purpose only barely recognizable,

Grayed wooden benches surround the exterior,

In anarchy, platforms jut from the walls,

Carrying similarly unkempt benches,

Seats long past disuse, crumpled and warped,

Standards, old allies, ragged and barely there,

Flags, they remember the old confederation,

The old domination, young, knives shrouded,

Nothing more than raked threads, nothing sire,

Even the overgrowth lay scorched, humorous,

Decay wrapped in a later fatality, allegorical,

Divorced from the scene, sits a throne,

Coupled with an elm, pushing through stone,

A transcendent sovereignty garnishes the chamber,

Not the largest an imagination can birth,

Yet the chair remains a singular, heavy energy,

Coated in gold, the body tattooed, engraved,

Symbols, calligraphy varies, many authors,

Some architectural, others hand carved,

Some rushed by panicky hands, to beg,

Just below the arms and seat, stories,

Hieroglyphs, pictures of a dead power,

Only the seat remains of the kingdom,

Burgundy cushions furnish the throne,

Snakes are threaded into the fabric,

Their heads crescendo on the headrest,

Ready to devour any ruler unworthy,

Above, a crest stores an eye, resting.

Allow me to explain,

Behind the golden lid, the eye twitches,

Seizing and bolting, restless, nightmares,

My body shivers, my wounds convulse blood,

I will not stop gazing upon the eye, sire?

Snap, the eye moves rapidly around the room,

Consternation seemingly grips the sense,

Denied a decent target, a detailed purpose,

Pause… the oculus slowly centers to me,

The eye tenses, the iris begins to quiver,

Shrieking infests the room, my senses,

Organs begin to caramelize within me,

Gouging my arteries, broiling my bones,

Smoke erupts from my eyes and decay the center,

I feel every corrosion of my chemical makeup,

My last breath is labored.

3

Please, let me explain,

I search the yellow sky for hope, staring,

It whispers a dark and deadpan jest,

Chattering with black teeth, scraping scabbed lips,

Endless repetition guides me, my poor soul,

My wispy form flutters in the wayward winds,

I feel as though my robe is the net,

I must simply bare the corrupted boon,

I cannot shed the cloth, an eclectic shackle,

However, past attempted evisceration caused a plummet,

Such actions put me at more of a loss, I wish for escape,

Escape here is clever, an uncommon treasure, lost,

My spirits are low, I can feel my growing acceptance,

I would cry but I fear this form simply can’t,

I turn to the landscape, a change in thought,

The gray line comes into view, cobblestone,

I sway and delay my descent, I will miss the mark,

I pass over the monastery and look to the center,

A golden glint strikes a nerve, I recall a pain,

Wavering, I slink to an alternative entrance,

My mind must have been dislodged,

Lost my way, could’ve been mistaken,

Looking up, the main entrance sits before me,

I can feel a need to weep, to what end?

Oh king, to what end?

Please, let me explain,

I shuffle to the yellowed interior of the monastery,

Only a few continue to huddle, encased inside,

I can hear wheezing, crackle of the lung, hacking,

Small puddles of brackish blood badly hidden,

Outflow of bodily decay coupled with false rhetoric,

They cling to their constructs as it strangles them,

Sickly heads struggle and hang low, beaks dribble,

Snarls, exhausted, militant actions require too much,

I see the kick and the vulture plummets, deathly heaving,

The group simply tightens, no love of failures,

A corpse rotting among its comrades, unsympathetic,

One less to argue with, one less to outmaneuver,

Desperation creates deadly competition, even at the end,

Wincing with confusion, I struggle with their apathy,

Their lethargy saddens me, a need for a higher perch,

I cuddle next to the straining knight being dissected,

Orcish soldiers rifling around, searching,

Does the knight hold importance inside?

Such intense focus, is freedom within, levity?

Fluttering, flapping, an orcish forearm berth,

click…clack, I dig, where, what do you hide?

A screech echoes through the stones and decay,

I look down and scratch, another time,

My body remembers the cry, scars flex,

Drawing me into the room, I seek you, sanguine stance,

Furiously wiping a glaze from the eyes, hehe,

Wings take me down, talons dig and push forward

Shuddering and gyrating, the eye stares,

A smile snakes into the beak.

Iwillexplain,

I am here, sire,

The black, an extension,

Power, cleverly stolen, crows

Wayward, never wanting to return

We tasted the freedom,

You lied, hubris right?

Honey, wine, decadence, however,

One, two, three, all,

I am here, returned,

Saffron ceiling, long dead,

Gentle whispers, long ignored,

Seeds planted by the wind,

The Monastery, castle, fortress,

Vultures preying for lethargy,

Soldiers slaughtering, blood’s purpose,

The people's voice decayed,

Ambition cannot be ignored.

Please, let me explain,

I shake, to my right, a shroud, authority,

The feet kick and scramble, or so the mind conveys,

My eyes continue to stare into the stone archway,

Seething, angry accusations writhe, ancient hate,

A wish to scream, the visage before me denies intent,

He is the black, he is ambition, I was his, am his,

His head carries obsidian steel, polished jet eyes,

Body almost formless, holy trappings and war garb,

Ebony wisps tumble forming legions of recovered crows,

They sing for my escape, the will fails to rally,

Shadows begin to drag the essence from me, he advances

The sensation is calming, yet my mind wails for me,

I would ring my own neck, betrayer that I am,

My wings scoop at my essence, wisps can’t grasp,

A scream from the throne, my king is upon me,

I see myself through his encroachment, from his height,

I try to gasp, that is no longer my freedom.