|
Muse
|
Excerpts from "Muse" by Moan Lisa.
Desperately, I call your name from the
trenches of my life; the ones I dug myself
out of confusion and rage. There is little
peace in me, and love's become a haunted
melody played out on the mind's orchestrated
theatre. But you know who I am, how to
make me lie down or to dance. Invert the
catastrophes I've caused, dance with me; take me
in step; drive me into the burning light.
***
If love is true, I will be hers until the end
and after as an affair for the damned.
The poet's ruse: to take this blistering
cold within and transform the loneliness
through words into a music for the senses.
***
Threadbare sunshine; little shreds of light,
am I misguided, lost? I feel nothing.
What transpired in sleep is just as well;
no visions or voices permeate this waking.
I wear the clothes of a madman, not a
beggar, but mad. I once and sometimes often
thought to make a profession on the street,
with a sign: "POET"
*****
Threads of sound shatter; I am desolate.
Hunger burns; thoughts don't sound symphonic;
a crackling gurgle on dry lips. She wanted me
in every way; and I, hollow, opened up every
door to her carousal.
My body is a slave to her.
Insanity creeps; the underlying text scattered
with broken shards of fantasy, mythology,
religion. No thing is real; every thing is.
***
Love me in the depths of our misery-- through
superstition and haranguing may we be saved.
***
But there are so many points of light in
the night sky, give me one or two of those.
***
Her voice stands out and cries the pain I feel,
rocking me back and forwards, and again--
all this unnecessary talk to drown and soak,
boat my self; realized but unrecognized self.
Look, she is hooked and pinned below me,
my soul's shadow; trying to escape me,
and I would, but we are bound.
***
Across this chasm of desolatory smoke
which fills the lungs of my opression,
there is light.
In what transpired,
between closed doors--
I should wrap my head
and let the pain bleed
until there is nothing left of hurt.
Instead, I hold on to this injury
so tightly, never giving room to breathe.
***
You calm my nerves but a moment,
then let the demons swim inside my soul.
***
You are closed off to my conundrums;
screaming, kicking clawing at your face and arms;
the depths to which I punished you
for no faults of your own, have shed
their skin on me.
I swallow in, unfiltered, your essence;
fall asleep in dreams, intoxicated.
Back from the cumulus,
and where I lay my head--
we met momentarily.
And I stepped on stones
through murky still water,
finding my way back to
the cumulus, and where I lay
my head.
Deep within the human sphere,
desire blooms from tin cans strung,
a solitary sanctum captures every passed word;
dreams, and their waking denial.
Harbor them, we harbor them,
to our detriment; these diseased incantations.
She lies in wait,
and I wanting--
to purge myself of our separation.
A small pressure, against my back--
in the spot that you so seldom touch;
and I am burning up in flames;
no reason to the ever after;
not quite denial, not just pleasure--
But aching songs I can't quite sing
because they hurt,
and take too much administration.
I play at finding my way back to you,
but in the fire there is no salvation;
even heaven burns tonight
and still I cannot see your face.
Angel with the slippery tongue
who held me bound against her breast;
my deceiver, my undoing, my lover.
Take me in again
for one last dance.
We meet again, in the chill night air;
smoking cigarettes over moist ground--
Tonight, you are my full ecstasy & desire,
breaking through the nightmares and
disentangling all the horrid thoughts that consume.
Be my compass for a spell,
and I will be your poet.
I will spread my heart thinly,
to watch you smile.
To see a lack of grace
in movement, such as your own;
to see the hard lines of your body
paired with feminine curves;
to hold you--
Pressed against me.
**
****
****
****
****
***
https://www.smashwords.com/extreader/read/307655/1/muse
|
130425
|
