Elysium's Illusions (Soulquake: April 7, 2004)

Logic would dictate we hold this poem for almost a month and add it to the blog list on the anniversary of its writing, but the poet has decreed an ordered move from Author's Den and thus we go... This piece of poetry was written and dated for one purpose: To commemorate exactly when he and his second wife agreed that their marriage's demise had passed the point of no return. He was angry and wounded and sorrowful and did what any artist would do, sublimating his wounds into his creative outlet.

Elysium's Illusions (Soulquake: April 7, 2004)

there is no wine so bitter as that of loving in futility.
a mirror that does not reflect. a wall that does not protect
a given heart from the folly of ill considered sacrifice.
so let it be with Caesar. the vague smile of faded solemnity,
the wings of Icarus, melted and moulted, abject objects
in the museum of muses unamused by the poet's artifice.

the oil slick on the Avalon Sea grows darker and thicker,
so that the setting sun is reflected in colours courting crimson.
to smile when the bile rises regent in the throat and veins
is a trick for the fakir with his bowls inverted, quicker
to beg the blessings than to build on solid ground when sun
and sky alike strike sullen with the hypocrisy of love and pain.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.