Blood on the Scrolls
The Grand Mother of Invention.
At the breast of the mother of invention
I suckled from the teat of conviction
In truth, I sought more than sweetness
More than colostrum, rich in goodness
The foremilk and hindmilk to curb thirst
Full to the brim with nutrients to burst
Motherf-, are we all born to die
Motherf-, do we follow the lie
As I dine at the table of creativity
All I crave is pomp and ceremony
Egocrusher, the fight to see what I can be
Egocrusher, the battle from the lesser, me
As I crave due recognition of substance
And I reach out for more than sustenance
Profane and debased, my purity beyond trace
Dissonant and embraced, my revery beyond grace
The words and diction, the forthright conviction
Forced in, truth spoken, full on act of contrition
You never know what you know til you know what you know you never know what you know til you know you know you know know know know
no no no no weakness
no no no no sacred sanctification
as the breasts
of the grand mother of invention
suffocate the feeble
the strongest survive
and outlive the mother,
stripping her of
her ceremonial cloths
bathing in
her life-giving elixir,
dripping the crimson
on the scrolls
that will never
be forgiven
or forgotten
*
Thanks for reading!
Author's Notes: This came to me in a flash. You're welcome. Even rhymes in places!
About the Creator
Paul Stewart
Award-Winning Writer, Poet, Scottish-Italian, Subversive.
The Accidental Poet - Poetry Collection out now!
Streams and Scratches in My Mind coming soon!
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Expert insights and opinions
Arguments were carefully researched and presented
Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Keep reading
More stories from Paul Stewart and writers in Poets and other communities.
Comments (10)
The rhyming pattern (and consequent crumbling of it) creates a very interesting, heavy effect. The emotions feel both found and completely lost by the end, if that makes any sense. I love poetic collapse in longer poems and I especially love it here, after the "You never know..." bit. All that to say, this came together spectacularly!
I like your wording and the images you convey.
Paul, rhyming? What's HAPPENED!? This made creativity sound very brutal.
Interesting and emotional. I love the imagery. Great work.
Well-wrought! Though the creative impulse is amoral, the hand that guides it can choose how it flows. As to what constitutes a moral pursuit of the activity, that remains an open question often best answered by the circumstances of the moment.
Only you could describe breastfeeding like this - nice job, Paul!
This somehow reminded me of the movie "Mother!". Loved your poem! 🍩🥐
This is as violent in its writing as it is in its imagery. I love it! Well done.
This was really great, Paul. Also reminded me of a famous mantra among scientists: The more you know the less you think you know.
A true work of art wrought from a true poet