Militant, cursing, ruling, ordering
telling me what to do
how to do
when and where to do
I do
What I want
You tell me what to want
but, I do what I want
and will
not
listen
to
you

I was born into flame
The son of parent stars
But stars burn out
And have to die
Leaving me,
The Dieing Embers
Of a dynasty
That used to rule the sky

I joined this site so as a poet
I could shine and grow
I call myself the Common Raven
But really I'm a crow

Mums and dads stroll past our pond
Hand in hand with little ones
They bring their dogs, some are old
Some are little pups
My parents they are mallards,
Nothing rare as such
So I was consequently
Inevitably raised by ducks

In heaven swearing is allowed
I didn't know, did you?
But someone went a bit too far
And turned the air quite blue
He was celestially expelled
It was the only thing to do
And now is known as
Angel of Profanity
To the likes of me and you

I put pen to paper, aiming
to create
nothing
in specific

but

every time
my pen traces the contours
of your

blue eyes, full lips,
the soft, invisible fuzz of a barely-there beard,
strong arms that don't protect me
from the stabbing knife
of your non-words.
Indifference I can't escape

because

it's too convincing for me to believe.

If only I could write something that wasn't about
                             You.