Strawman At Sea Poem by Mekonnen Kelly

Strawman At Sea by Mekonnen Kelly


The Sun's torment knows no respite that it smite my flesh with its rays,
My skin does peel to the waves of its heat for centuries gathered from a day,
Though its beauty bring deep satisfaction to the eye, with a light that's perceived as Divine,
Its nature confounds the reality,
Such love confounds the reality,
The love it clams confounds the reality,
Furthermore it perplexes the mind.

For what evils have I been judged for I to be doomed to these boundless waters?
On this bark of thought I drift to oblivion within this ocean fortress,
My path had dissolved to the sea thus depriving me of a central purpose,
Lest I steer clear of disaster,
This tempest be one of disaster,
Aimlessness be the vice for disaster,
Burning skins do hiss like serpents.

The white star so emits its rage in full, so in Death in find fruition,
My reverence to the Lord reciprocates naught as I seek refuge in remission,
Who parades in my sight but the shadow of Death, still dusk is yet to be seen,
So I beg for the cool of darkness,
Here, I pray for the cool of darkness,
O I weep for the cool of darkness
In a reality born from a dream.

Yonder west, three beasts of the seas and they carry men across this Mighty Flood,
Of pale flesh they were whom had coveted a trade: their silk garments for my blood,
"Woe to the day that the meek and the lame shall discover their inner godliness", said one,
Then the beast of the seas carried those good men
To the ocean's edge did they carry those men
To the ocean's edge,
Thence they vanished in the glistening caress of the Sun.

Afore I was bare fleshed, in these garments nonetheless the heat shall burn to the marrow,
Does the Omnipotent oppress or do I manifest illusions seeing twelve archers shooting flaming arrows,
What sweats through the paws are the sorrows of a man who holds no name nor legacy,
Without origin of being I am soulless,
A people without a history are soulless,
Without a knowledge of self I am soulless,
Ye Sun of God hath stripped me of memory.

May the day I was born vanish from time and the womb flood to a bloody tomb,
For I know not my genesis so now I resign and cast from this world of doom,
Must I exist and remain for the detriments of pain, though dusk has yet to be seen?
And for what, the cool of darkness?
I had begged for the cool of darkness!
I long prayed for the cool of darkness!
So now I take this life, serene.