Lost in the belly of the beast,
We look up and see all those curving arches,
And we think then that we're in some majestic cathedral;
But the next sloping corridor takes us down to the mortuary,
...
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WHERE TO BEGIN? I can't sleep - I can't go out - I'm possessed with a demon who takes advantage of me in my sleep and so i style myself I - A - I. To try to keep what litle sanity i have left - I write poetry - Poesie tres tres Noire. It frightens me and it frightens all my readers and none of them have the temerity to coment at length. OK I - A - I at the risk of being turned into a TOAD (or worse) - I have read - I must comment or I will disinegrate with you! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! . We all live in a Fantasy World and so often (just like Jonah & Others) we find ourselves in 'The Belly of a Beast'. So huge that we puny humans ignore the bones and the rancidity and peep about to find oureselves dishonorable graves. 'However we are too busy believing' - even in 2010 - that we will find Utopia round the next rib. We belive all myth is dead and consigned to the 'Dusty chests of iniquity' - but we will never lose grip on our fairy tales - and just see that they are only meant for our children and our children's children - and then only transiently? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? . I have not scored this poem because if I scored it ZERO - I would become a Toad (or worse) or if I scored it TEN you would only write another one - so i will score it a hypothetical FIVE and hedge my bets. Whoever you are - you have painted a picture of deep deep depair and an abyss which is almost inescapable. NeverheIess I remain your true servant in Poetry - and if you are going to cast a spell - let me be a Bird of Paradise rather than a Toad - JOHN THE OPTIMIST.
To the pagan gods of old! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.