another existential poem

veiled in mantles of mastery and exaltation
     are we all --- we are all
     spasming and howling
through mists, on moors, alongside rivers ---
those which nourish the wells of poisoners.

lured by wands of sedation --- the smile of hypnos burns ---
   are we all -- we are all
     lost
       aloof

in the primeval fog 
of a tomorrow as distant
as a spectre in the northern sky
and as the blaze between the two mountains:
     one, whose treacherous, steep slopes
are abound with the plethora of Eve-fruits;
and another, warm and nice
     as the kiss of love
        from the mother of all incest

--- two mountains ---

one that reaches solace; heaven; the mesmerism of paradise
and another
   which is not an illusion

this is a strange world
that has strange things to offer;
we shall not need clothes,
     for shall we not conquer? ---
we do not fear nakedness
as we must blot our necks
to the gluttonous teeth of perdition
in order to understand our origins
and to quell the rebellion below...

we represent
an alien ideology
rife with ecstasy of terrorism
   we represent
   a dogma
   ravished and molested by autonomy

we are alone
     as we are unique

only small fragmented pieces 
   will you add
to the sum of human angst
because even in this regard
   you are worthless

at the deepest roots of all beauty;
all happiness; all virtue and all the glory of accomplishment
lies something grotesque
suckling the udders of humanity
   until they will eventually dry up
   with cynicism and corruption
   like child prostitutes
     on the eve of life's winter,
     lost in the hopeless static
     of moribund contemplation....