Within Kali Yuga
It was a blue Monday as the suns yolk
hazed through the chemical trails. An age
of forgetfulness was to end with strife
as the two heads of the same beast quarrelled
over the same forked tongue. The contention
was clear as all sound fell into discord.
A Kamchatka bears a large Zhangu. Its discord
chimes with the boots of soldiers. The yolk
is set in the great skies where for ages
the giant steppe eagles slow tuck wards off strife
from 5,123 feet below the power lines fuss and quarrel
and to the west the rainbow arched above contention.
The joining of two things is in high contention
as with forces that have no contact, like the discord
heard across a flat realm. A double yolk
pulses with electrostatic, a negative vector for this age
as it parts into two and reveals magnitude. All strife
is now directionless without form and seeks to quarrel
under the rainbow flag of Kali where the tenets quarrel
then fracture into dust. What is left is open to contention
like two charged objects attracted by their discord.
This is a blue Monday as the suns yolk
made way for lightening and the Wolf moon. An age
that settled in drought as two thousand miles west the Khlas' strife
is sonorous as the noise of tanks and the strife
of guns and bombs and in the large satellite town a quarrel
erupts between a father and son, at the kitchen table contention
is ignited as the wire vibrates, pulsates in discord.
Our son wanted to destroy the Kali Yuga.
Our father wanted to protect his son. ‘This is the age
of hurt and confusion. Son, wait and appear in another age’
said the father, knuckles resting on the table top, strife
etched into his brow and eyes. The wire pulsated, quarrelled,
oscillated from the talking head, its convoluted contention
nauseated the air supply as the Zhangu bears discord
and relentlessly moves forward under the five pointed yolk.
Kali Yuga the dissension. Dissonance of the suns yolk
silver light at strife with the giant steppe eagle, their quarrels
fractured into discord then opened to be shut in contention.
Great poem, so many symbols and images. Does the chart indicate other orders in which the poem can be read? I am confused by the fact that the poem has seven stanzas, but the chart mentions only six.
Thanks for your comment. It's a play on the sestina - usually there's six interlocking stanzas, the sixth being an envoi. Each end word from the final line rotates. The number 6 has some connotations I don't like, seven is a much kinder number. Thanks again. CC
Ah, yes, it's clear to me now! I didn't get it at first. Very interesting. And, again, excellent poem.
I really loved your poem, very cool narrative as you mention the sun as yolk very interesting and cool, greetings ☺