Enigma Poem by anthony, tony chabaputa

Its not corpse
Until the thick scarlet fluid ceases to run through it,
Here, in the compounded soul of the world
Where still there is enough room
For screaming and for lots of bleeding,
Here, in the profoundness of the flesh where birth is,
The whole thing altogether,
In this hereness,
It all was initiated here!
Then here, another self dangled out into the circles of free testament.
As if it could just drift on, and range on, and wander on without having to deal with
Some ungovernable order of Mother Nature
Who pardons once and no more,
while continuously, we are all bid to dance to the last gong of the lost song.
yell, yell! , hark!
oh! Gong!
howl, howl, lo!
Gong, oh! gong!
whelm! , owe!
Gong!

In the name of God what in the deepness of lust is that?
I mean the obscene music playing back and
Round and round our human heads.
It is the bell of a grave commitment,
From out the last and endless waters of the end
Where still the sick author of the closed black orphic writings
Puts in black and white the analects of it all.
Being, nor time, nor fate, nor past, present and future:
None of these things can say uh-uh to the assertion
That if you can bleed you can die.
And here, undyingly it shall as you would expect be so,
and Voices, in their thousands, shall produce tones of the last gong of the lost song,
yell, yell! , hark!
oh! Gong!
howl, howl, lo!
Gong, oh! gong!
whelm! , owe!
Gong!

Here, in the running of the school of death,
Hereby, thou shout carryout a complete Necro-research
On that which goes beyond our boundaries of discovery,
Down here, here in the struggle to find retort to this not worth getting to the bottom of,
Now here in the mysteries of the almighty metal and rock and steel and stone conundrum,
All books dark and closed,
Contents lost,
Books baring dead titles and printed in very sick and rotten tongues.
Ah! , Wait, how in death am I suppose to understand these monstrous terms.
Am afraid they'd give rise to the crushing of my human head
And to the darkening of my heart,
And as a consequence, my understanding is baffled.
Hence with bewilderment, perplexed with many conflicting vocalisms of the last gong of the lost song,

yell, yell! , hark!
oh! Gong!
howl, howl, lo!
Gong, oh! gong!
whelm! , owe!
Gong!