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This damned discarded rag doll knowledge,
After a Bacchanalian bash where I was as an
Involuntary guest of honor in that gnashing festival.


and goddamn if my jaw isn’t filled with concrete,
And me, the need to tear into either animal or man or
Fitfully, I look down to see if I’ve kept my form in His
Image…yes, He’s still reflected, but when I close my eyes
My train of thought is more like a beast’s blood trail.


It’s when I awake that It seizes me;
Puts me on Its hoary hand turns me into an
Apocalyptic puppet minus memory, and then…
There I am, on the floor again, angry because the
Immediate world around me doesn’t bear nail and teeth
Marks for my doubters’ benefit.
Cain’s genes are still a presence, and Seth still but
Scattered puzzle pieces.  But I’ve been possessed enough
Times to know the puzzle whole.
Azazel, right you were, and I hear your cry outside.
However, I’m down too low, floor board-low, like a
Rag doll Adam.

© Dennis Villelmi, 2013


Todays featured poem comes from Dennis Villelmi. A strikingly original piece of work, this poem is full of hidden metaphysical meaning, and a savagely dramatic use of imagery. An almost mystical fervor undulates throughout the poem, which matches the emotional crossroads contained within, and almost fanatical, possessed pace of the piece. A breathless, savage  poem which invokes the spirit of Dante, and leaves scratch marks from bloodied, broken nails upon the walls of religious indoctrination.  “A Low Gnosis” has just enough off an obtuse angle to it to hide the layers of meaning within to be unfolded like the pages of a burned, scorched bible.

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