Death’s Merry Dance

(Inspired by Ingmar Bergman’s film The Seventh Seal)

 

I see dystopia unfolding

like a map being unfurled in a storm

In hysteria-panic a new chaotic world emerging

the big bang in reverse…

 

Unlike the fall of Saigon

no choppers overhead

ferrying the defeated to board ships of hope…!

 

I’m left writing futile words

trying to make sense of it…

Tavener’s song for Athene

a fitting soundtrack, my own lament…

 

Trapped inside my crazy head

yet somehow loving the madness

for this asylum belongs to me

 

finally finding my purpose

sitting amongst the insane

playing never-ending games of chequers…

Sanctuary! Sanctuary! They cry…

 

Bells cease ringing – clocks backward spinning

naked bodies smeared with wode

run crazed into battle

fighting the Legion of the damned

whom they will slaughter without pity

for all showed themselves heartless…

 

Butchered entrails worn like scarves

necklaces of ears

dangle between Amazon women’s breasts

strong – proud – justified

For it is all now over

pretence finally vanquished

the Truth left hanging

haunting, blowing in the wind…

 

Mankind returning to live inside spiritual caves

to be slowly fossilised like their endless dreams…

Only the innocent left, stirring the broth of lost souls

forever trapped in this cauldron of death…

 

I, like Colonel Kurtz, shuffle into the darkness

to quietly await my assassin…

Knowing I will be the least in the Kingdom of Heaven 

but surely the most grateful………….

 

 

 

M C Bolton,  March 2020

@MarkCBolton1 @UrbanDandyLDN

 

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Photo from Brittanica.com

Recherché

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I sit amongst my dreams

in the graveyard of my mind

like Legion – no chains can bind me

Tormented by my failings

as a father – as a man

a husband, lover, friend…

walking with the dead

into the mist

leaving society…

 

Pacing slowly towards eternal insanity

chanting in unison

sharing candlelit pitiful piety

with aged knights

wearing armour

that has rusted into futility

stopping neither arrow nor sword

my heart pierced by steel

no crown of thorns

as I cling to the cross

thirsty for my saviour’s blood…

 

Forever carrying the splinters, the scars

of infinite salvation

offered freely – yet costing all

morality of the highest order

expected – demanded

countered by universal grace

judgement defeated – vanquished

 

My feet bleeding

from walking on flint

knowing like Joab

I will be struck down

clinging to the altar of the Lord…

 

 

by M.C. Bolton, August 2019,

photo of Bole Hill Quarry, Peak District by OG

Death

Slowly entering the tunnel of light

realising it is all over

my life transformed to another dimension

with a fleeting breath

time no longer has dominion

nor sin trouble my flesh

it will come,

it will come for us all

no matter our position, faith, race or creed

the ultimate reality

the fiercest internal mirror

reflecting every deed

truth’s final victory

blowing a violent wind into my ears

into my soul

as I scream in death

as I did in birth,

yet this a cry of freedom

like Christ it is finished

his blood pulling me closer to God’s love,

in him my only hope….

 

M.C. Bolton 31.1.2017

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Photo by Sibvu