My blood reeks of philanthropy.
An archaic discussion could not surmise
The elegance of its contents.
It’s flows and rips through the
Loose curtains blowing against the window
And I give myself to it, often.
I should not speak of such things
But then I could not leave my tongue
To wither on these words
Like empty words on the canvas of life.
All about me, I can feel the world changing.
Time shifts into a great wormhole.
Loses its essence for the duality
Of it’s own spirit.
Bares all things in secrets.
A great mind,
I was told I had.
I think insanity was as familiar to me
As a winter wood,
On an august night.
If I incline my ear
I can hear the low ominous hum
Of the engine, distill it’s secrets
Into the dirt road beneath it’s empty feet.
Or the sound of women
As they pass through the shadows,
Between breath and lack thereof.
I am afraid
And at a loss for words.
But then how could you speak
Of such things
When there is little left
To philosophize about.
It is the great love of life.
The four elements of love
That have woven it’s way through
Creates a sense of morbidity
For a life
That I have thrown into the volcanoe pit.
The thinkers have spoken of it.
Written of love,
While they swivle a glass
Of alcholic concoction into their belly.
The first wave meets the shore,
Spitting Eros into the air,
These are the great loves.
The condescending vagrant
Who has sought to fill my heart
Turns my body into a loose cannon
An mere affection for nature
In all of its power.
So you have equipped my soul
With the ability to throw itself under the bus
Give kisses to the dog
Who laps your heal when you come home from work
Give love to your fish.
Embrace the supple flesh of a cotton shirt.
Fill the kettle to overflowing and embrace it.
We have need of you always.
Your brother has strewn his sword through your side.
Brings fire to your kindness
Until you surrender all that you have left to give.
You have loved often and fully
Plush thoughts filling your room
So that you will uphold
As if he is your heartbeat.
You spend childhood together
Walk down the lane to old school house
At the end of the street.
Turning hoops for show
Brings a canteen of memories to your lips
So that you may sip on the vibrancy
Of youth in your latter days.
You will remember how often
His words blinded you
But you will never give up
On his promise
After all he is part of your blood
And your life is impartial to him.
Swing the gauntlet for all the world to hear,
Contamination in our stride
Though you are faultless
Pure as a needle passing through the sun
You will surely light the earth
With a power, undivisable
We are weak
Pulled at the seams by the
Force of you.
But we leave our worship
Under the infancy of your blatant
Knowing that transformation
Is truely the depth of your nature
And we are changed by you.
If lips could speak
Then we have commited ourselves to one another.
Delivering the rush of heat
Pulsing through our fraudulant lips
So that we could dive into the
Quelling sound of deliverence.
Roses could never squander the
Livid passion that you gave us
And men have died under your arrows
Women have been wounded under
But you elevate us.
Taciturn and brilliant
We continue to pander after you.
Hungering for the sensation you have given us.
Here we lay you down to sleep
Upon a bed of roses.
And whether these four loves
Should ever spring up out of the snow.
We will love
As no one else has loved.