THE RIVER- A Gothic Tale

The Mask (detail) by Rev Hellfire

The River (a gothic tale)

*

“Tonight the River

looked so cool & black

She reminded me of you,”

I told her,

“The way you always slink around so slow,

those slender curves casually carving

a serpentine course

both placid and powerful

thru the landscape of my living room.

Dressed in shades of Obsidian

(the coolest thing this side of Oblivion),

your pale skin shimmers like the Moon

or the Halogen Lights reflected

on those dark and silent waters”.

She sank down deep in thought

at my strange Tribute,

her straying fingers lit a cigarette like

wavelets from a passing river boat,

the rhythmical movements

rippling along mysterious riverbanks

soft with Midnight moss.

moon-at-sea-cropped

If you sought her in the Mountains,

I thought later,

far from the city night, you would see

she is a young and silly river still

as she rills her sinuous,

curious way to the Sea.

Somewhere giggling streams arise in meadows

and glide smooth as oiled osmosis

over rainforest rocks,

manifesting rainbows in the spray,

as she inexorably winds her way

through tea-tree tinted creeks

to mangrove deltas funky

with the ripe scent of organic processes,

making toward whatever Ocean

that it is she seeks.

moon-at-sea-cropped

But for now we are far from the Sea,

and it cools the weary eyes

of thirsty travellers

to rest them awhile

on these dark, midnight waters,

and contemplate drowning in them.

Careful where you wade my friends,

here Narcissus met his end,

Broken Glass, brittle barbs

and old, discarded needles lie

beneath the black, omnivorous mud

that can swallow you slowly

or at a gulp

as the Tide turns quickly around you..

Yes, beneath the River’s dreaming, mirror surface

are hidden depths you would never suspect,

and it is here she hides her secrets;

and her silent thoughts protects..

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***

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***

st-c-reverend-knife-in-hand-viet-backdropcrop

The Reverend Hellfire is a  respected, former frontline journalist who covered the late 20th century Poetry Wars that erupted in fashionable inner-city enclaves thruout the nineties. In his retirement he has taken to cultivating and catalogueing the rare fungi that grow in his under-ground Doomsday bunker. Currently under siege for the 325th day by Federal Authorities for failure to pay parking fines, he has emerged as a spokesperson for the Mentally Unbalanced throughout the World.

Takes no prisoners.

***

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~ by reverendhellfire on March 5, 2017.

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