Living Martyrs

The living martyrs of our craft,
we unhinge stars, peel leaf after
stunned leaf from our ripened minds.

We have seen what others failed to see:
that which lies
somewhere in the dark between
the clear cut lines of sense and the
hazy beams of revelation shed.

Strung high between the criss-crossed
bars of life--we march to something
other than our mortal tribal drum,

our veins are tapped of all but life,
the scarlet, apathetic wine that
flows into our brimming glass:

the exquisiteness of insight, we are
luxurious with grief, our pain the
finest wine the connoisseur can taste.

This is nice. I like reading your poetry.

And I love the martyrs and tribal drum parts because they contrast very nicely with each other.

I think that this is really, really good. The second stanza works really well, the way you cut up the lines (I think it's called lineation?) seems uneven and that really enhances what you are saying.

our veins are tapped of all but life,
the scarlet, apathetic wine that
flows into our brimming glass:

I think that "apathetic wine" is really nicely worded. It creates some strong imagery, the "brimming glass" is a very nice way of describing it.

the exquisiteness of insight, we are
luxurious with grief, our pain the
finest wine the connoisseur can taste.

The first two lines are excellent, but in the final line connoisseur, while a fitting word doesn't seem (to me) to flow as well as the previous line.

Wow. I love how you have combined what seems to be your world view, your religion, and your poetic sense all into one. Truly, an exquisite insight. Perhaps the colon in the second stanza is misleading, but that is irrelevant. Excellent work.