Primordial Crime (a poem)

Triumph of underworlds,
drag me down to depths
with low-lifers, soul-slicers
we sing a dreadful tune
of praise for dreary gods
in a minor key, keyed in to
secrets of specter selves

In caves of evil, I discovered me
false self; I liked it better than
the self that went to church on
humid Sundays
the pastor with hellfire in his eyes,
tells us lies about how
man was born in Eden,
and that damned serpent

Darwin’s man was born
on arid plains of Africa,
we go back in time
discover primordial crime
at dawn of wandering tribes
forever traveling, forever lost,
no true home or peace
on this planet

Only suffering,
crushed skulls in filthy fields
of nuclear winters, in our
futures of dystopian lust
trust us, no savior is coming,
the afterlife is a black void
floating in planetary
slime, all this for one crime
at the dawn of time.

Author’s Note: I used Merriam-Webster’s Word of the Day for May 9th as a prompt for this poem. The word was “paen,” which means “a joyous song or hymn of praise, tribute, thanksgiving, or triumph.” This poem is not very joyous, but I picked out specific words to use in the poem, including “triumph” and “praise” and “song.”

(Photo by Dan Meyers on Unsplash)


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