|No Title (standard:poetry, 394 words)|
|Author: kickboxrko||Added: Oct 15 2004||Views/Reads: 2234/0||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Wrote this poem in the middle of the night. Literally at like 3 in the morning. GO figure|
And its passion that's my enemy and my savior It drifts and pumps through my body, fire rum I dance and whirl, and I'm caught in my motions The motions that rock my hull everyday My love aches with confusion, throbbing throbbing I can't stop loving so hard, my heart aches for rest But still, I continue I strike the keys and the notes swirl through my head... My ears fall in love to its creamy voice, and I sway to the invisible tune... And I make love to the music... Yet still I hunger, so I write It's a constant thrumming, like a drum, getting faster and faster Yet it has no rhythm. It's consistent, anyone can hear it. So I write down my thoughts, my human mortal thoughts And my fingers move, and I have no connection to my brain... My passion/blood/rum flows into my fingers, and they move to their own beat And the words flow Desperate now, I cannot stop. Yearning, yearning I need more Craving the dance, the feel and smell and touch of a women Her eyes, probing and examining, judging like no man can A smile sends me rushing, pumping, and the rum heats higher Yet this yearning I cannot fill, though my heart works overtime And my mind works restlessly, grudging through familiarities... Trying to answer unanswerable questions; old as God It hurts, oh it hurts. The pain, the passion that burns is too much to bear It is my wound, my light. God keeps pushing me, pursing me, he does not let up... I am his mortal tool, his eternal pen.... God forgive me, I need rest.... Life is too fierce, too bright, I am too dull I am not a strong enough for the task I am not worthy, I am no soldier Weakness persists, and I crumble under its shadow Alone and alone and dead and sparking alive The routine continues Alone, I try, I reach, yet still I am dead inside. Except for the passion/rum/blood I am alone How is this so? Have you cursed me? Can you free me? Will the Devil take me, kill me, crucify or console me? Forgive me, my shoulders are sagging My feet are plodding My heart is weary Forsaken yet protected, I cry a useless cry The cry of a mortal man facing death alone Tweet
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