Trident I: On the Precipice

from by Kortriba

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Demand entrance
To a heaven that tore so swift
Pulmonary in it’s width

A Bronze Mandated cree.
A scourge to name all that is seen.

Disorder! Disorder!
Fragrant and dripping trance
Disorder! Disorder!
The sinking ship of sentience, the pharaohs spoke of impotence
Light in red, coma breed

White Mosque yielding,
Marble engrained, a pulse in it’s strain
Gem encrusted,
Dismantle the stone, bury grain with the bones
Dry land calling
The Old Kingdom flaunts, an oceanaut walks!
Pearl draped huntress.

And is this crumbling earth the axis on which conscious is held?
Are these jungles the homes from which like trilobites we breed?
I hope, I pray, we are insignificant.

I hope their’s another chance.
Not for you or me or these idles hands.

The Virgin Scythe
Dares to Conquer
Arouse Vertebrae
Dormant royalty

Arise from the oceans, skin plating bone
Gazing Starward
Yet it’s still a
Mammal with a self ascribed name.
A Vermin obsessed with it’s own self portrait

I hope our vices find
Us black and dead like thee oil we prize
I hope our vices find

We dream gold

A feast of saint at the Astral Trough
Gnash the wires for a semblance of code
We’ve lost control.

On the Precipice

And in skinning my flesh
You’ve equipped me with fangs
This Mausoleum Sensuality
So I remain in your bale
A Scented haze of jubilation
Cold dead plaster on your kitchen wall.
No one can hear me sing.
My vowels sag like a crucification.
When they are thirsty, they will drink.


from Tridents, released March 20, 2015



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Kortriba Asheville, North Carolina

Angry from the Mountains.

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