wrote it after watching a movie about Yukio Mishima. |
Seppuku I was committed with eyes to the world that surrounded me. A stroke drew my reflected desolation in your chamber of whispers and you saw with colourful sips my essence wearying out like a fading butterfly in the gloom. I was transformed in your capsule of falling tears razor sharp mirrors cutting my unwashed skin excessive carelessness painted me with red dust like a Hindu cloth misplaced Kneeling towards Mecca The white walls of the Majid; echoing mantras in a cross-shaped lotus confuse beyond all religion and conviction strapped in a luminous chair of lies. It's been here all along and it will always be like a memory preserved in a body in an instant. Outside the powerful Raj is the God of his own dreams. He mesmerises the cobras with his invisible hands making there eyes spiral in red and yellow patterns. When I stay in bed without the sun to remind me I am bowing I'm imprisoned We must look far to see our own extent Our boundaries stretch both ways like an infinite multiple of self. The clear water is the well we hold and shed tumbling shooting existence in every direction of our land; we change together nude in pure smiles of oblivion. By Tom Sottomayor |