The Moon Belonged to Gaudi

by ray phillips - Not entered

The Moon Belonged to Gaudi
25 January 1999

The sun was Monet's,
an ever-so-soft pink glow shone
in the azure sky that Sunday morn
soft cirrus escaped, whispering across, no wind
leaves from limbs outstretched tumbled like down
from a spilling pillow torn in the corner from fights
at night between lovers full of play and life.

The moon belonged to Gaudi,
brilliant, but awkward, natural shadows, reflections, 
no light to call it's own, but beaming, screaming silence
to winking astral traveling, celestial diamonds each facet 
another blink, twinkling in your eyes like dancing
candle, light which is alive flickering, tickering, 
tock, both hands point north on grandfather's hickory
clock, so shiny still old like the moon summoning 
night like every night except this night.

The mask surely Picasso did paint,
cubist, deranged colors struggle against truth
wisdom, the logic in my head abstract, disjunct
wholly separate whilst blending in to conformist notions
oceans apart yet threaded together like nothingness
purely adulterated, destitute, inherently devoid of 
touch or feel, pain I steal, but love I throw 
away, each day longer than the last, more time spent
hating the face and loving thy wretched mask.

The heart is Poe's
pumping black, crude courses through 
veins, blood only blood evermore, 
nevermore pulsing, throbbing, oozing through waxy
arteries; valves shut, the tricuspid has his orders;
stop the flow, the right ventricle now is closed.
But why, when, how can this be? why is pain greater
than the will to survive this night?  when did fear
dispel trust, love, compassion?  how can self hate rage intense
like fire through the wild on days so dry you can feel your skin
wrinkle under the sun so hot the asphalt clings to your soles the rubber
changing phase mixing with the aggregate screaming like velcro as the
hook and loop is quickly torn apart, separated from everything it's ever known?

Reason for writing:

    somewhere, the phrase the moon belonged to Gaudi got stuck in my head, so i had to do something about it...i visited  spain last year and seen gaudi's work firsthand, i think i had a flashback
    

Birth sign: Not entered
Date created: 1999-01-29 21:38:07
Last updated: 2021-03-03 14:40:52
Poem ID: 51654

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