BATTLE
Nox Bellum[1]
PREAMBLE :
Then Jacob said to
Simeon and Levi,"You have troubled me by making me obnoxious among the
inhabitants of the land, among the Canaanites and the Perizzites; and since I
am few in number, they will gather themselves together against me and kill me.
I shall be destroyed, my household and I."Gen 34:30 NKJV
Explanation | Sometimes you
cannot see the veil set deadly against you. Sometimes you just hear it. Welcome
to the valley of desolation. On our journey to the great city, we shall pass
through here. Many times. It is a terrible place.
PERFORMANCE TIPS:
Imagine, you are
crawling through a minefield, a Stelleto commando knife being the only tool to
feel the discs of death beneath the earth. Get on your hands and knees to perform
this piece. Crawl. Stand up when the way ahead ‘seems almost found.’ There is
no happy ending to this piece. The valley of Desolation is a long and ever
narrowing place of increasing darkness. One day, you will immediately pass
through a narrow place into the light. Like a squeezed pea from a ripe green pod.
This piece, ends long before the squeezing and you might want to sway a little
in fainting and seasick deperation towards the end of the piece.
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It’s just sounds
So I keep feeling in the dark
Feel my way
On my hands and on my knees
Inch by tortuous
Tortoise like inch
Stabbing the ground
Stubbing the edges of unexploded
death
The way ahead seems somehow
found
Or is it?
There is no light you see
Just sounds
Sometimes, of a padded and
guttural growling
A prowling
Lion roaring
The Senaccherib calling and
taunting
Of my hated name
Just Sounds
Of a big cat scratching trees
and lickin it’s lips
In the mumbled and muffled
Deep breathed long planted and
Long silent arboretum
Where even the living wood
Far to fearful to scream out
their ripped and naked agonies
Keep their leave quivering
stillness
Lest they too be
Both deflowered and devoured
Just sounds fall upon me now
Sometimes, of echoing laughter
Of weeping in the corner
Of whispering malevolence
Of Secret Knowledge, unshared
“We know. The fool, the blind
fool. He Will not see”
Whispered voices
Shaping the earth beneath me,
moving
The ground like a soft and
swaying
Sea on a summers afternoon and
Deceitfully seeking my devouring
Undulating beneath my trembling
and sometimes rising feet
Quietly, carefully, purposefully
Trying to make me fall again to
my knees and
Beg for some small distance
covered
In humbled friction burned
Pumping hearted
Patella pained agony
In open and covenantal death
With the darkness
It seems now
That even the earth itself moves
gleefully against me
© 2012 Victor Robert Farrell
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