UNBORN
© Michael Schmidt, 2016
We cannot die
for we’re not born
We stare into the sun
Your golden chalice
drips with malice
We stare into the sun
We speak in burning archives
Ashes drift from our mouths
They carry on
the furnace winds
Away from Alexandria
Blood seeps from our wounds
Blue-shifts down Luxor’s aisles
Where jackal-prints
Mark the trepidations
of the dead
We chant long starless nights
Pleiades shudders at our drums
We were before they crawled
With feet afire
we walked the sand-drifts
Before they raised the stones
We recite subterranean passions
Dying flowers fall from our hair
Sauropods hear our call
Coil their necks around your masts
Drag you to abyssal gloom
We cannot die
for we’re not born
We stare into the sun
Your golden calf
your epitaph
We stare into the sun
Our crocodiles roil in black oil
Their eyes behold your flesh
Nephthys walks the land
Nebulae in her hand
Neither scimitar nor chisel
Shall inscribe
our obsidian night
We are original before there was sin
We are what the dragons warn you of
We cannot die
for we’re not born
We stare into the sun
Your nailéd godhead
faceless in a crowd
We stare into the sun
We sing cemetery dirges
With lighted hearts and scented lips
Snows fall from our brow
Their delicate mandalas
fuel tsunamis
Our arms circumscribe your fate
You rot abandoned at our gate
We are the executed in revolt
Against the delirium of the stars
We cannot die
for we’re not born
We stare into the sun
The undead king
our offering
We stare into the sun
The undead king
our offering
We stare into the sun
The undead king
our offering
We stare into the sun
[ENDS]
