BURNING DESIRE?

The distance between us is leagues distance

far away

I putter in my floundering palace.

Thrashing about like it is time for something to be said.

And I am better off led

away from this place

at a dizzying pace.

The world abounds

with sound.

Some dish out buzzkill to boot

And the pleasure principle, the hedonist's dream,

Which is our merit, our squalor,

Finding rats in bullish places

Weapons makers fetching god from the darkening attic

To wear her attire

dress in drag.

Eternal dust motes obscure the sun

Which we will never see.

Begin a song about lackluster days

and you might find it is wanting in some

fine play with endless women.

Livid in flesh. Kissed on the temple.

Told to be quiet, serene, even contemplative.

Last wishes before the executioners slap-stick humor

hews forth your very soul?

Come hither kindred soldier

Ye, who hast earned a place by

the tired statue.

Flirting with disastrous decisions.

And making monopolies in the vast game with fate.

Be comforted.

Your souless body has not lost but gained,

a kind of repaste

tokens of glory and sin are:

awkward moments

lovely sunshine

and

wandering lustfulness filled with gravity.

In the shadows and the mist

A toy is talked up kindly

LIke twere a doll

All dolled up for pinching and poking

small torments, bitches brew.

And those who "smile at the hereafter"

will certainly doll out goddess rings for the shitty king

Who will never be deserving of his mounted inheritance of raindrop attire.


At last a scottish bride with horny kilt and luscious jewelry

spread between her legs,

creates a wistful calling for the place called

home.


Forget the momentary release beyond all time.

For your own member goes limp as pleasure courses thru it.

And you bob your head and call,

"Sister, mother, lover, friend"

all in one syllable.