THE GUARDIAN – A Poem in Free Form | Transegoism.Us

Some Author Comments About The Guardian

"Angel," by Kai Stachowiak, taken from [PublicDomainPictures.Net]; this image is in the public domain. This angel may be a guardian.
“Angel,” by Kai Stachowiak, taken from [PublicDomainPictures.Net]; this image is in the public domain.
The Guardian is a poem in free form. Consequently, there is no rhyming scheme. Furthermore, there is no syllabic scheme. However, the poem is arranged, generally, in a five by five layout; that is to say, five verses of five lines each. You can think of my choice of form (actually, I usually design a unique form for each work) as reflecting the human – in other words, the spontaneous and unorganized – bound by the artificial; similarly, the form has a lack of rhyme and syllabic scheme, but is bound by a rigid five by five structure. Finally, in keeping with my current philosophical interests, The Guardian invokes Nietzsche, Descartes, Heidegger, and Neo-Hermeneutic ideals. Consequently, this piece expresses a very personal aspect of my own reality.


The Guardian

He stands aloof and ready.
The crescent moon glinting against his alloy arm
Like a woman discovering her beauty in the mirror.
He gazes toward the horizon coldly, relentlessly;
The patience of the standing reserve.

The improved; the indestructible, unflappable.
That which is less; that which guards the gates day and night.
The one I hoped to abandon, but which I reluctantly invoke.
He’s been away from Hell too long;
His legs have begun to rust.

Eyes of red and violet feed
The penetrating gaze from a golden alloy pituitary –
Almost human, more than, less than.
Almost disapproving of the indulgence I’ve allowed myself;
But the algorithm falls just short.

Truth can only love a warrior
Who grasps the straight line in his cold hard fist,
And fashions a sharpened tip at the end.
To a man such as this, she yields her secrets
And endures his cruelty and disregard.

Saturn rises, Lucifer falls.
The gates of Hades and Heaven shake and crack.
Angels and demons tremble and cannot hide their fear.
The guardian feels only the pain of my neglect,
And the relief of being provoked.

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