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A ring around his bed
13:51
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A Ring Around His Bed
Music by Spleen Erebus
Dave Migman
At the ringside, looking, his eyes, looking, his ruptured veins, jaundiced,
eyes, his eyes, I fall
into his eyes
I am his youth, father
his youth is inside my heart, my blood, the dissolute core,
cried out, father, Dad… Da… his breath slowing, inaudibly,
his skin so cold, growing, death is growing here,
in this room, (un)life is fixed in the death ring,
on the sheets,
my mother weeps, my mother is weeping, my mother wept,
in a distant room, a corridor away, a world away during a black year,
on a day of death. The febrile air coaxed clarions, the butterflies were still,
their atom-thin wings, mosaic fragments from archaeological digs,
the birds still fed, still feed.
Father, you are going, I hold my hand before his nose, father is gone,
I cry out, pendant mother weeping from my neck,
a bag of loose skin and ageing bone, father, we cried,
we topple, the cancer is growing, grown
gone, it has taken my father away.
Inside my core, his youth is there, his father’s youth is there,
on and on, a succession of cupped dolls, encased, mask after mask like
I saw in dreams in my youth, pig face ripped-
clown face ripped-pig face ripped,
looming over me, the edifice of death-death-death.
Here at the ringside, mother, father, sister, her daughter, eyes swimming,
misting, fathomless depths of emotion, I hold his hand,
he is crying I am telling him of the child I will never have,
I believe it, he weeps,
Now, then, last year, now, that death
is all around, trickling in the gutters, pooling in the eyes that pin
each butterfly to the cork, in the museums, in the fossils sparkling
on the pavement, in the fork, in my stabbing motion, in my cock,
each ejaculation, latent, primed, there, death, always, death, no escape…
At the ringside looking over, the morphine stupor, we are waiting,
just waiting, nothing to be done, no miracles, no cures, no redemption,
just a clocking tick, the tock that tells, the prime, the time between screams. Father.
you were an angel, on your mountain,
you poured scorn like cups of tea,
father times I hated you, times I forgot you were always there, treading in my core,
the insatiable core,
you were hidden in the wires, in the spaghetti of my veins, I call you, I still feel you,
gone father, gone, no more, an unmarked rest, a rowan tree, a frozen pond,
swans, the geese croaking overheard through bleary skies, it goes on,
the dance continues, we tumble into the ring, we are gladiator victims’ poets,
we are unaware,
you always said they were no good,
but I think you were wrong.
There is good in the world, there is evil, they are two charmed snakes
forever circling, consuming - there the paradigm shifts, returns, shifts,
gets knocked flat, bloats into a hedgehog ball,
bursts into creeping cells, an arrangement of atoms,
bound by attraction and repulsion, like mind, mind like, my mind
flipping magnets in the polar wind,
yet I seek the moments father,
I seek these smiles and I seek this life, while I am living father,
can’t you hear the geese? I am trapped father, you are free.
I am bound in opposing planes, love them-hate them-need them-
loathe them, circling-seasonal-bastard-serpents, blasted like Santorini,
destroyed me, healed part, animal, mud, two quarts, the rotten eggs,
the dirt I have uncovered, I cover, I reach out, my claws,
you trim them and slap me about. I wish you were still here.
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SaKaC / Spleen / Erebus / RA Serbia
My music is coming from the most secret and dark part of our soul that cannot be seen with the eyes - our primal nature! Dark ambient, experimental, drone musick is conjuring the occult hidden spheres of myself representing complete freedom when viewed from the highest plane of thought. Spleen is escape from the suffering of this world through aesthetic enjoyment, rejecting my humanity. ... more
Contact SaKaC / Spleen / Erebus / RA
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