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Aug 2020
Often times when reading the messages
poets metaphor in rhyme,
in unreason and allusions, imagery
indiscriminate discriptors

they say the same thing--as if they all of 'em took
a class together on love
they say that it’s unreal
That “love is relative..."
relative to what?

to whom or how or when?
like a family member twice removed,
an aunt, a grandmother's warm smiling
invitingly familial
be it an impromptu emotion, all grandiose
and Hollywood acclaimed,
love seems unseemingly
     obscure
     demure
     fickle at times
     wishful
     blissful
     fervent even
     magically
     restless
     with its deliciousness
on and on so it goes / without saying too  much
how it will breathe
new life into those
     lackluster
those without
yet who are
     consumed    
     hollow
those without hope, suddenly are given it
     anew
     vividness
     An energy miraculously appears,
In HD the world is seen / absolute brightness
faultless and star-filled
     clear..

Yet it well can cause
our worst of fears
of wars / casualties / gruesome endings
   tragedies
   :a movie
with Shakespearean poetic pain,
the pentameter of the mortal heart
   sonnets of our human condition
   :a documentary
   of life
   conflicted
it is a cause many have and will bleed
for, some even die for,
searching and reaching out
whether in vain
or suffering in the pain find
awakenings
Then again
that's what it's all about ...

it is relative, to what or why
in life,
     pragmatic,
     fractal
human feelings reign -  yet a populace
of loneliness, millions of neighbors
never extend an open hand or invitation
so love can be difficult to find

in the sea of Man,
of many  a world separated
it strikes like lightning, they cliche
     quick
     unannounced
     unstable
it happens without warning, cupid's arrow
hits, descriptively it must be a wound..?

yes / yet no / unknown

it has begun: an end
to a means - a chemical thing
(hypothesized
in scientific circles,
I guess
just one of those undefined
Unexplainables)

like crop circles
in the wheat fields of the heart /
sometimes / it is
unpredictable
Then appears
Somewhat
              obscene
     wild
             flavorful
     rigid
     rarely mean
     spirited
     ferocious
at times... fiercely
      all while
Still / timeless...yet
in nature's laws
of strength versus luck,
small prey to a predator : eat or be consumed,
love is not recognized (or is it?) by the animal

It’s mate and procreate in the simplest terms.
Does a shark check out it's female before it decides
to release his *****--take it on a date, a swim in the riptides?
a bite of sushi first?

Empress bees and others with their queen-ruled colonies
birth a world from one,
does she feel the same for her thousands of husbands
fathers of her millions of children spawned?

love is relative... love is blind
another descriptive fallacy
invented by folk without husband or wife or vision
universally
known in these modern communities
of man-made homes
and tomes ...
blind ... as if like a person, the word
unable to see,
inept of decisions, making a finale,

who will stay by the miens of our simplicity
flesh and feelings
     silent servants
     beguiling
     hidden
     treasures

Now imagine lightning striking
     suddenly
     real
     unabashed
     fulfilling
     electrifying
     sensual  
     salivation
far beyond restrictions of the flesh/ *** /
past times and her finite
musings, they say it will go on and on

"forev'a ev'a? forev'a ev'ah"

And so it goes / the song repeatedly plays.
so then i say, as long as we are
still the masters
of this life's age, kings of consciousness,
of intelligence and rage
Love tho'
     fleeting
     Careless
     Whispers
It’s like
     Being
     Liked
     Obsessed over
     quenching kissed
All yours
     lessons-learned
Feeling aloft in flight
Love
will stay  
as a witness to war
or afterward in peaceful days,
O the one true thing
I have seen of love's relativity:
love is relative to humans

To our
Very being
whether blind or whether seeing
It’s yours and mine
Soul seeking

Free of will & full of meaning
Love is the truth
All Life is feeling...
Retitled. Repost.
Butch Decatoria
Written by
Butch Decatoria  47/M/Las Vegas, Nevada, USA
(47/M/Las Vegas, Nevada, USA)   
64
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