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This Poem was Submitted By: Mark Andrew Hislop On Date: 2005-09-30 22:59:18 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Encyclical

(Muéstreme un hombre cuerdo y lo curaré para usted.) How quickly you return, Brother, From whence I scattered Your ashes. Again I call you I cannot comprehend you but By the name I was called worthless Then condemn And rage against myself. How can you be more? Yet you come for me, why? I have no room for you, no room. Now your eyes extract my soul Across an extra dimension As if I but exist in two Or as if I did not exist Without you, as if I have no other room Inside. Dread Brother, I see you See me And my fantasy of life Dies. When you come, Under your lens you smoke me Into the ash appalling, Filling my own throat from the urn Of my cremation. So thus do you create, Incendiary Lamb, Flesh of my burning flesh, All the room you want.

Additional Notes:
"The Lucifer legend is in no sense an absurd fairytale; like the story of the serpent in the Garden of Eden, it is a 'therapeutic' myth." - CG Jung

This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2005-10-15 00:29:01
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
MAH, What am I supposed to do? You deserve to be told that this is one of the finest poems submitted this month. I'm as lazy as you are . . . you should understand. I could try to pick this apart, to fill this white box with some semblance of wisdom. I could. But no. Thus it is, and the remainder thus. Dust. Or ash. MSS

This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2005-10-06 18:31:42
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Now that the Spanish are free, we can speak Serbian. (Just before Spain in the alpha-betical) Before we get to Somalia, do you eat olives? I dislike the fruit, though the oil is worthy. Another smoking fire. Check your diet. Are you getting enough fennel? rite

This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2005-10-04 13:45:50
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.70270
I didn't know you were a proponent of Jung. I've studied his works and love his philosophy. Well done Mark. Well done.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Elaine Marie Phalen On Date: 2005-10-02 05:17:31
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Mark, this is an amazing piece. The narrator "could" (I suppose) be a fellow angelic being, or God Himself. It could also -- more likely -- be a mortal man, in whom the war between good and evil still rages, as it does in us all. But we recognize (even though we hate to do so) that there will also be that dark force, that phoenix Brother risen from his own ashes, and willing us to burn with him. We fear his recurrence, but understand that it must happen, as we're imperfect. The catch is, we can't lie to ourselves about this. Your speaker would dearly love to resist but the "Incendiary Lamb" (wow) will burn his way into the flesh and spirit. He is the antithesis of Christ but does not lack for followers. The title reminds me of a papal encyclical. In that sense, we see that even the holiest among us is not immune to self-doubt, the fear of the inner demons, to realization that he has sinned. Given the troubled days of the Catholic Church, no Holy Father could possibly be without such awareness of our (and his own) frailty. When you come, Under your lens you smoke me Into the ash appalling, Filling my own throat from the urn Of my cremation. So thus do you create, Incendiary Lamb, Flesh of my burning flesh, All the room you want. Such wonderful writing. I hope you're planning to publish soon! Brenda

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