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allanbrunmier Jul 2019
The Painter tires of his daffodil
The Writer’s embarrassed for his timid quill
They yearn for a primeval thrill

They want to be the lion on prowl
To utter a guttural growl
To hear calf’s final howl

They yearn for deadly hunt
To chase the prey in front
Not just perform fictional stunt

Nor go to a zoo and gawk
But stalk like a fearsome hawk
And deliver the final shock

Art’s oft served on a nobler plane
But below this surface lies insane
There’s a wanton lust in pain

Thank god, civilization holds us in check
Many would risk their neck
Their lives would be a total wreck
allanbrunmier Jul 2019
After birth we’re pure emotion.
Before words are learned,
We’re like an ocean,
Before islands are turned.

Words punctuate our feelings.
They disrupt the current.
They stem innate healings,
Cut short a potential deterrent.

Perhaps it’s best to let loose our rages
Fill our souls with unnamed delights
Try not put them to pages
In bookage minds that demand insights.

Does language enhance our senses,
Or merely subdue instinctual forces?
Do we no longer see natural fences
That block various courses?

Can I actually sing my song
When its’ lyrics are faulty words?
Does it really matter to define right from wrong?
Can I ever fly as free as birds?

Does language separate me from exhilaration?
Does it besot purity of desire?
Does it promote exasperation?
Does it extinguish internal fire?

Alas, it doesn’t matter.
A brain once programmed demands an answer.
It can’t accept a sensual scatter.
It’s a kind of intellectual cancer.
allanbrunmier Jul 2019
Cotton candy amidst the blue
Warm sun and breezes too
A flowered field in meadow vast
Children’s laughter from afar
Catching butterflies in a jar
A comedy in midsummer’s cast

You stand beside me in my dream
Pale pink lips, skin like cream
Your yellow hair in captured sunlight
I wish I could kiss you now
Brush the loose strand from your brow
And retrieve you from the eternal night

I know this is make believe
For even now I grieve
Your passing was sudden swift
I have these moments of recall
Life was shattered last fall
My balance made a tragic shift

If ever there were afterlife
I’d ask you again to be my wife
But my gut tells me we were happenstance
All subject to toil and strife
With precious moments of happy life
Should be grateful for the chance
allanbrunmier Jul 2019
Yonder comes the eastern sun
Dragging me another day
No place to run
I guess I stay

Someone has to work the soil
Plant the cursed seed
Endure the merciless broil
*** the rampant ****

Wish I were another man
Not in this forsaken place
A heartless God devised this plan
Probably die without a trace

I dream of a blue refreshing lake
A sunlit meadow vast
Relief from this persistent ache
Expunging memory of days past

But alas, there’s no escape
Forever squalid in the dirt
Clothed in this dusty drape
My body in tedious hurt
allanbrunmier Jul 2019
You shred my words
Thin colors from my brush
You still the flight of soaring birds
While grinding my ego in a crush

What music can I sing
What melodies compose
After your scorpion sting
And heartless blows

If I ignore your sneer
And refuse to listen
Will I lose my fear
And start to glisten

Probably not
I’m so weak
My art is fragile
Not magnifique

I’ll silence my pen
And dry my easel
You win again
My inner weasel

— The End —