Convulsing Pleasures
My woman passed me by
Some years now
Years ago, yes
I suppose
I believe in the wilderness she lived through
Winds that haunted her explicitly
Insisting on delivering anguishing pains
Somehow, un-nurtured, unrestrained
Exactly as her will, lust and flesh were
Well, for me, I - unbelieving - saw it too
Wherein threats threaded their fearsome paths
Gathering ever mightier forces
And exploding within all her convoluting
And yet expanding endlessly passions
Within violent quivers and contortions unseen
In God’s history
In one finale crescendo, I swear
Fearful, it can be to you
But fear not, I say
Fear her not
For, you know naught of her carnal resilience inner
Triumphs savagely over her entirety and existence
And what then
Will you think as you behold
What then will you dare to relate unto unknowing others
Will you, can relate on her
Her pleasurable gasps of madness
Her convulsing, frenzied satanic sublime ecstacies
What, then, can you dare say unto people
I know
Nothing
Perhaps
Little, or else
Insane fugitives, eternal
We too shall
Forever be
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 5:11 PM UTC
It is Tuesday
& the air is colder than piano keys;
the trees are thick
& the bramble has frozen still.
Everything is dead but you.
Men in dark coats
with unwound hearts
sitting in fast passing cars
with sugar glazed windows.
Everything is here but you.
Maps of this town will stretch to the horizon &
stay as irrelevant as ever.
They will
stay in glove compartments and coat pockets because
everything is lost but you.
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 3:20 PM UTC