As I lie on the ground tell no one of me,<\/span> Ad astra, ad astra, ad astra the ancient chant :<\/span> The Ferryman wades through Stygian waters<\/span> Dawn opens like a wound. The poppies red<\/span> Death stood in triumph; sacred, still :<\/span> These gods won’t await a Bacchic flush.<\/span> You begin your life at the stroke of a knife<\/span> This is my god, there’s no one above him.<\/span> This is my god, there’s no one above him.<\/span> Somoshree Palit As I lie on the ground tell no one of me, That there is some corner of a forbidden mount To remain forever holy. I would be A Eucharist substitute, a bacchic surmount Of wasted wine when His blood won’t quench The homeless silhouettes on a nameless bench: The patron saint of a Read More<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":46,"featured_media":0,"parent":27,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-123","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/123","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/46"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=123"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/123\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":733,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/123\/revisions\/733"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/27"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=123"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n<\/span>That there is some corner of a forbidden mount<\/span>
\n<\/span>To remain forever holy. I would be<\/span>
\n<\/span>A Eucharist substitute, a bacchic surmount<\/span>
\n<\/span>Of wasted wine when His blood won’t quench<\/span>
\n<\/span>The homeless silhouettes on a nameless bench:<\/span>
\n<\/span>The patron saint of a sacrifice.<\/span>
\n<\/span>The patron saint of your demise.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span>A vinyl played on the stairs to sin;<\/span>
\n<\/span>And all that boast of heraldry can’t\u00a0<\/span>
\n<\/span>But bring with Eden a corpse of mangled skin.<\/span>
\n<\/span>Do I dare commit the heresies?<\/span>
\n<\/span>Tell you His rights are all His prophecies?<\/span>
\n<\/span>That to hate His lies is despair \u2013<\/span>
\n<\/span>Do I dare? Do I dare? Do I dare?<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span>Crowds of gods, the mouthless dead<\/span>
\n<\/span>Scream the names of men and martyrs :<\/span>
\n<\/span>What did it take? It’s easy to be dead.<\/span>
\n<\/span>They would say, “Off with that spiteful mouth,<\/span>
\n<\/span>Off with the jester’s spineless head”.<\/span>
\n<\/span>I replace Indifference with blood black lies and<\/span>
\n<\/span>Parables.\u00a0<\/span>
\n<\/span>Purgatory.\u00a0<\/span>
\n<\/span>Paradise.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span>Are in their stead quite forgiving.<\/span>
\n<\/span>They timely lament the forgotten dead,<\/span>
\n<\/span>I choose to lament the forgotten living.\u00a0<\/span>
\n<\/span>Perhaps the noose would let me see<\/span>
\n<\/span>Man raised to a putrid divinity.<\/span>
\n<\/span>Will my Holy sarcasm appetize the Reaper?<\/span>
\n<\/span>Tell me – Am I my brother’s keeper?<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span>When Life’s infant teething began.<\/span>
\n<\/span>Disobedience was not an apple until<\/span>
\n<\/span>“Did I solicit thee to mould me man?”<\/span>
\n<\/span>God I want you through a chaste Victorian lie<\/span>
\n<\/span>Where a sight of your ankles makes me die.<\/span>
\n<\/span>God I want you in cells with sewers beneath,<\/span>
\n<\/span>Like animals desire, primal and full of teeth.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span>These gods won’t awaken a Phoebean lyre.<\/span>
\n<\/span>Their way to godhood was but to brush<\/span>
\n<\/span>Cigarette mouths with Promethean fire.<\/span>
\n<\/span>There is no Eucharist in my sacrilege \u2013<\/span>
\n<\/span>There is slaughter in a jester’s privilege.<\/span>
\n<\/span>Often a Fool, often a fester :<\/span>
\n<\/span>I am not god, I am his court jester.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span>You begin your life with a hunch \u2013<\/span>
\n<\/span>That the ones you meet with weary feet<\/span>
\n<\/span>Would eat their gods for lunch.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span>This is my god, I need a heart to love him.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span>This is my god. I need a shovel to love him.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"