PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I was taught by a master how to talk a good game

and that in some said circles sex is known by a much

naughtier name

a woman tends to give a lot more than she is able to get

and lets even more pass unharmed by her

than she is willing to admit

suffer in me so sweetly great lust for the one I know I

can not have any time soon

save me from these biting feelings that I nervously nurture

for they could very well become the catalyst to my eventual ruin

we each ( often unknowingly) leave our tender most feelings a

little farther behind us with each predictable and passing day

and those once so very black and white issues of floundering

morality fade into a soft fostered gray

excuse me while I reluctantly back down on a promise

I once so foolishly made

but one can not dance if the piper is never allowed to

be paid

it takes a lot out of one's spirit just to pin point

a feasible goal

while being firm yet vague and all the while knowing

just when to stop

takes a soft touched talent of verbal control

if grace were one of my many possessions

I would gladly access her willing aid

but she has yet to stand comfortably beside me

so from her I was determined to stray

as I walked

sweet desperation pleaded to me for her almost

criminal case

putting me at odds with all that is wrong within

by pulling me into her violent embrace

in the shape of a halfhearted hurry I'll exit this room

of unremarkable remedy

and leave you with shear doubt so uninspired that it

belittles all

even my own sanity...............

(written Oct 16,1992 am)