A Poet’s Obsession with Blood
By Fiza Pathan
Tear away the hunger from your face
and arouse within yourself the thirst
for the force that creates life – the thirst for blood.
Blood is the life said the prophet of the cross
and its thirst begins from the crescent of the soul.
Love betrayed me and my lover took my life force away.
Therefore, I cling to the wounds upon my own flesh
for salvation by drinking my own blood.
I can’t help it readers for the pain of the eternal flesh
peels the skin off my sensitivity.
So don’t hurt me more than I lacerate my own body
─its blood I need to nourish the ache
that has seeped like poison into my heart.
I’m not pale to the eye dearest reader
but I don’t drown myself
in the base vampire instinct all the time.
My fangs pierce my own aorta to yell my soul’s cry
to the minions of hell that surround me and my cross of wood.
Let me lick the liquid from the slash
that I have made upon my wrist─
Nectar of the Greek gods wouldn’t taste so heavenly
than this holy nourishing blood that oozes
gracefully out of my veins
like the graceful nymph of Ireland.
The salty taste aggravates the empty space
between my two breasts to pain me more
than I am worthy of.
Eat of my flesh and drink of my blood
said the Son of Humanity to his disciples of worthy robes.
I can live hungry dear reader ─ but not thirsty
as my elementals are like the monsoon cuckoo
that cries to me for blood ─ more and more blood.
So I with my holy dagger cut each and every part
of my sinful hide to act the vampire of Gothic romance to insanity.
Stigmatize this worthless sinner O Lord of all that is
so that piercing my life to blood drops I may enter your kingdom
The Holy Koran said that man was fashioned
by one drop of the creations blood─
let me therefore raise a toast to my creator
with the Holy Grail in which is contained my own blood.
Copyright © 2014 by Fiza Pathan
Image courtesy: http://www.morguefile.com/archive/display/45796