Morning Fury

Breathless blackness I sink into

With my love, of the dreaming sensation

With my affair, with subconscious creations

Which play beneath flickering eyelids.

I cherish such moments –until they are mercilessly ruined

Yearning for more hours to come…

But my eyes are forced open,

They peel through the darkness to locate my foe.

To put an end to its monotonous shrieking.

Oh how I loathe the morning tyrant…

Distaste of its pleasure in reviving me.

With a screeching pierce it parts,

My restless soul of the cherished trance.

Opens my weary eyes to a dull, grey light.

Stealing me from my mind…

Welcoming me, in a hostile manner,

Back into the dogmatic cycle of consciousness.

 

Its highest hope and goal to disturb me,

By way of its programmed obedience.

The gateway between a grotesque morning,

And the unconquerable night.

The morning tyrant is laughing menacingly,

Chasing away final remnants of my slumber.

What a devious, indomitable piece that lays beside me.

Nonchalant of my needs, of my pleading requests.

Our feud inevitable, a daily battle.

Its siren shattering all hopes of peace.

Not expecting, but demanding silence.

Oh how it greatly loves to tantalize me…

Still it is of my need, and even my own doing

My hated, unyielding, urgent, remorseless piece!

My essential, inconsolable, morning tyrant!

 

This poem is about the device most of us keep bedside -the thing that forces us into the day by screaming at us. I’m the kind of sleeper who has always needed many, rather loud, alarms to ensure I wake up on time and that was my inspiration from this poem. This is one of the few pieces I have avoided editing, as it was written in about 2009 when I was a sophomore in high school, and I have decided to preserve it and keep all of the original wording.

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