Red Light

He sped to her room
whence eyed the slut
dressed for his joining;
but his passions
lusted for the rose
vased upon the mantelpiece-
thorns and all

existence and death

standing out
and against
instead of in
and with
where have we
Christians been?

death reigns
the passing kingdoms:
a-gods
Beauvoirs
Sarteans
and Camus worshippers;
black-light
a fallen Fall
angsting to nausea
our non-theotic palls.

antipodal acts
and acrimonious thoughts
pugiling within
the atropic self
wax for the Marcellian sign
warm to stamping
authentic lines
spoofing life
perjuring death.

chased and caught
wisp of word
breezed and predestined
for dying yet
meant for existence
in order to stand out

but who can Now
an appeal in this Already
except He
who is the WAY?