life, poetry, prosetry, Uncategorized

Of my chains and my need

chains

I am all those things your father warned you about

Possessive, I wrap around, not wishing to share, an inch

You are mine, I take you out, I stroke you, I put you back inside

If you feel comfortable dividing until we are absent

Then I fly

Out of the window

And away

 

I have never been able to share when I feel this much

Let others have a portion of

My heart is closed most of the time

Blocked from easy loving

Yet

You came and battered down the door

Tore open my secrets, marching into my throne

Here I lie hidden from everything

You observed and loved me despite

My flayed imperfection and demanding nature

Imploring the kind of devotion few can summon

 

Now if you take those ebony eyes

Giving them to everyone else

I may not be able to swallow that kind of pill

Because I was brought up with bitterness and ash

What’s mine is mine

Or I let go and walk

Straight out over cliffs edge

 

It’s not your fault

I’m a one-person lover

I can’t even divide cards

If I see you out in a party

Hoisted over others shoulders in social

Milieu

Don’t take it personally

When you come home

I won’t be there

 

If I were born to give abundantly

Then somehow that was lost

In translation I found

I could only give to one

The rest had to stay outside

Whilst I built my fire and kept

You warm

hoping you would never wish to

Be free

Of me

Of my chains and my

Need

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life, poetry, prosetry, Uncategorized

Indefinite

forgetting-Jef-Safi-FlickrOh fear

You who come unbidden at dark or dawn

And crawl with your hunger to devour

The sunrise of rational thought

How alluring your poison, when defenses are sluggish

The gris-gris of delirium and other exhaustions

Make abundance in quiet mist

I think of safety, it feels like a celebration for another person’s life

Not this chipped bail, not this sweat stained pillow

Where lately dreams have possessed fangs

And nightmares are not always caused by eating cheese

Many years ago, we sat you and I

In the mouth of my midnight kitchen

And like Sendak envisioned

I rose in morning dough, a naked thing of pink

Then, in the hours that believed themselves immortal

And a sinking feeling would be replaced by exuberance

The feeling of lying down in an antique store, in a fur rug

Imagine, imagine, nude swimming in milk, turning hands over tails

All shame evaporated, just the joy of unspoilt youth

A thousand dreams away from clammy hands and furtive secrets

How resplendent I’d be, lying beneath you without guile

Our limbs mirroring the other like a corridor of emotions

Responding in kind

Tender without history

Lay your heavy bag here

Come into my envelop

Where we can meet against the other, in eternal epitaph

Watching the crudeness of the outside world sigh and catch fire

Like plucked flowers must lose their breath

And dying comes as you hold your breath

Seamlessly we turn to each other and create

An oasis in the nectar

There it is

There among the aubergine desert

Taunting with its indefinite

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poetry, prosetry, Uncategorized

Empied of harm

Passion, you may feel it in obvious ways

How he leans in with his enveloping strength

Or, in the thunder of your chest, riding imaginary horses with your best friend

Forgetful of arithmetic and teachers who felt you’d end your days in borstel, because you did like running rings around them, didn’t you?

Regretting those petty rebellions later

Then in the crisp light and imagined stampede

Thrashing to the furthest point in your mind, bathed in fantasy

A place hard to reach, even splayed on cold Mexican tile, pretending your hand was his

Even, swimming underwater, until your lungs burned to surface

It was as if, once you grow up, the way back becomes harder

Like a secret language, only known to children, daunting you with reminder

The tree house of your neighbor, as you take the prescribed walk, your cardiologist insisted upon

The first rain lillies urging through Texan soil against all odds, their impossible fragility, an exquisite reprieve from cracked earth

Have you gone so far child? As to forget the combination? 

Here, where verbena and lemon grass, pummel air with magic 

Here, where you didn’t need anything, but the cupping of your hands, wonderment running through water, like you were born again and again, empied of harm 

Full of the vigor, of not knowing, the beaten path, to adulthood

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poetry

China doll

love-doll-sex-orient-japan-silicone-4

To the man who is not going to get what you want

surgically enhanced tiny Asian girl with inflated breasts and pout

who will never desire

your greying belly flopping over uncool tweed

which you half realize when you consider

the absurdity of your haggard reflection

what you don’t envision, the harm of your penchant for fantasy

and how

you may be married but whilst you stray in your mind and locked bathroom

you are only half inhabiting the woman who promised

for better or worse

it is she who really wanted you

the one you now, judge with diffidence and boredom

while you build a private world for what you can never have

if you had money you could possess

but it still wouldn’t be real

only you wouldn’t care a damn

so long as she let you worship

you’re not fussy about emotion

an ” exotic” is worth more than loyalty or devotion

you’d trade your wife in without hesitation for

a new model with adjustable thighs

you can stuff her where she hasn’t yet been stuffed

have your dark-eyed children bound for Harvard

mount her on your wall, the eastern trophy of your success

who cares if she used you more?

despised your flacidity and milky sour breath

did you never catch her revulsion of you?

or was that half the fun?

now you’re on the wrong side of sixty

clawing for something bigger than yourself

every Sunday you proclaim it is God

then whack off in the bathroom thinking

of her glossy head bowed in prayer and what you’d do

given half a chance

you have lost your shame believing nobody can see the machinations of your lust

only they are visible and nothing else

not even the veal of your fatty heart

and she who would be your prize would laugh

chooses a younger man and gets a Masters in Economics

now you only have images of her to grope on-screen

hiding the stains on your underwear behind the heater

inwardly your ache becomes a boil ready to burst

infecting all that could have been good

at night, digging in disappointment

turning to your wife who opens her arms

feeling none of her love

touch you

this is the way of your modern

marriage

three to a bed

you, she and in-between

pornographic fantasy

her almond eyes and lithe legs

begging you to pierce your foundation

for playthings and illusion

the china doll

your fantasized upgrade

on faded obsessions with youth

and the grandure of coveting

empty images of passion

 

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