Poetry / Caged

this is my most recent poem: a pathetic attempt at an epic poem, but perhaps closer to my goal than previous ventures. the poem speaks of a demon whom i fight with every day, some of you know what it is. some of you have seen me lost to it- caged, as the poem describes. but in my most recent battle with this demon, i came to the resolution that i will never again be enslaved to its power... thus my written account. obviously, this is mostly metaphorical, i am an author after all, but i believe that it embodies my experiences while so entrapped. with any other poem, i might here say "enjoy", but considering the nature, i will instead say "read and ponder"

__Caged__

Once,
long ago,
I ran free.
Happy.
Innocent.
Free.

But that was long ago,
and has been long forgotten.
That 'once' lies on the distant banks
of the river of Time,
whose raging waters
are uncrossable at best.
Life has long since carried me across,
to this,
most formidable of places,
on its battered and beaten ferry.

It tricked me,
as the prodigal cow
whose grass is always greener
on the other side.
It swore to me
that things would be better here,
and now turns a deaf ear
to all my frantic pleas.

Life hates me.
It laughs at my fate
and spits in my face.
It gives me the taste
of hope and happiness,
only to replace it
with its bitter cup
of misery.
It taunts me,
and jeers at me
from the other side
of the bars in which
I am held captive.
Then it throws things at me:
rotting vegetables
and fermenting fruits-
just to add insult
to my many injuries,
to throw salt in my cuts,
and lemon on my scrapes,
and to further beat upon
my already broken body.
Because t knows that
I am a caged thing:
trapped by its deceit,
and shackled by its treachery.

For now,
I am hiding
in the back corner
of my prison,
licking my wounds
and awaiting the chance
to escape
and lash out
against my captor.
There is no salvation for them,
and he who bars my passage
is a dead man.

It is said
that nothing is more lethal
than an animal with a thirst
for bloody revenge.

I am that beast.

I am the Dragon
who will throw down to Earth
the stars from the heavens,
and I shall do so
with a single-minded intensity
that the world has never seen,
and never will again.
I have been the whipping-boy
for Life’s wrath,
scourged by its cat-o-nine tails,
and scorned by its obsidian tongue.
I have been flayed,
and my soul laid bare
for all to see.

And I will stand for it no more.

This is where the war begins.
My armor has been oiled
and my blade sharpened.
I carry no shield
and ride no stallion,
but rather
march to meet my foe
with trudging steps
and heavy heart.
Yet I have within me
a burning determination,
a fierce desire,
a boldness unseen,
to smite my enemy where it stands.
I will win this fight,
because the struggle must end,
and I be freed.

My captor is no human,
nor any being
whom one can see.
But it is all the more
real and deadly
because of this.

You, who looked on
as I tore my shackles
from the very earth,
see the writing on the wall.
Recognize the graffiti
And find the perpetrator
whose accursed hands have defiled
this place with
their very presence.
Point me in its direction,
then flee the desecrated path,
which I shall leave
crimson with the entrails
of my befouled enemy,
or I shall leave
not at all.

War has been declared,
and I will be victorious,
or I will be nothing.

I trek onward,
over mountains,
and through valleys.
I search the abandoned caves
and explore the barren crevices.
But always,
it seems,
that it eludes me,
travelling one step ahead
and keeping always
to the concealing shadows.

At times,
the hunter becomes
the hunted.
And I retreat,
hoping,
to catch a glimpse
of my quarry’s
accursed face.
But it remains
just out of reach,
just out of sight
and refuses to give
even a hint
of its dastardly nature.

I am weak
from my many months
and endless years
of cat and mouse,
of capture and escape.
But I am also stronger.
I understand now
that I am not seeking
shadows or angry ghosts.
I seek a living opponent
whose greatest strength
is also its greatest weakness:
its ability to enter
into my head
and seep its poison
into my thoughts.

Because the door goes both ways.
Each time it invades
my most secret
and sacred havens,
it leaves a part of itself behind:
an imprint,
a footprint,
a clue by which to trace it.
I learn from it,
study it,
memorize it,
store the memory as a weapon
for the next encounter.
This time,
It is my turn to attack.
I sit patiently,
with doors wide open,
awaiting the inevitable
approach and infiltration.

The creature comes.
Hideous,
it crawls towards me,
slinking through the shadows
and changing forms
as it comes.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Its image flickers
between many friends of mine,
people whom I love
and whom I trust.
But with each change,
I see in its eyes
the vicious cruelty
of the demon hunter within.
A look of victory
flashes across
its glassy eyes
as it reaches out to me,
and a growling snarl
tears from its throat
as it takes hold of me,
wrapping binding limbs
around my slight frame.

The trap is sprung,
and I lash out against
this thing
from which all my miseries
have originated.
The long hunt has come,
at last,
to an end,
and a reckless abandon
overtakes my senses.
I thrust my dagger
through its very heart.

But I have become excited
with the stench of its blood
so near,
and my mind is fogged
with the air of victory:
I have forgotten myself.
The creature shrieks:
a piercing,
blood-curdling cry,
and it throws aside
my blade,
which clatters to the ground,
half eaten by the acid
that is the creature’s blood.
It glares at me,
holding its chest,
and I see,
for the first time,
its true nature
unmasked and unveiled before me.

My foe flees before me.
I have failed in this quest
to vanquish it.
But I have caught a glimpse
of its face,
and its shadowy silhouette
has been branded in my mind
by a fiery torch.
This is the only image
burning in my mind’s eye:
all other senses
have failed and vanished,
to be used no more.

I have but one goal,
one fiendish aim
left to me in this world:
find the demon
whose claws have rent
my heart and mind,
and slay it,
thus banishing forever
its gaping mouth,
whose corrupt whispers
and endless sucking
has deprived me
of my very being,
from my will to survive,
from my very soul.

And I will be victorious.
 

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