PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

with little or no inclination

I can bank the fires of hell and hide in the fear of

passion's frustration

I am forever cutting my emotions up and examining them

with logic's laser like light

this process of separation and elimination happens to generously reflect in the way I approach myself in

subject form to write

what is wrong with me, I know I can never make

magically right

but I can bring before unseen dysfunctional feelings

out into plain open sight

without this as such is, ability I would indeed be

truly sunk

its what can't be helped or controlled that puts me

in such a burgundy blue funk

sickening realization of great needs that will

never be met

cast a spell of displeasure over fragments of

contentment I hardly got to know

but then again any director can tell you that at least

one foot light gets broken by the end of every show

for the blood of the beast in me so thick and pure

I live to see the grandness of my next disguise

and hear the sweet sound of my own pending purr

now, isn't that about as sensual as the sound of the

Serengeti at night

lean too close to the page and you come to find

that its not only my words that bite

there's nothing that hits home harder than

the gentlest hint

the best advise to be given is that of which is well

meant

to trade this quick completion of tied up thoughts

for some much needed sleep that is my general intent

on your merry little way now, you I just sent

and so she said, that crazy poet that she was

as to sleep she quietly went..........

(written Aug 10,1991 am)