The Awakening

 The Awakening

The mind,



To have your flesh over mine

Is a delight even Dionysus can't taste from his own wine.


Perpetuating a corrupted lock deep beneath,

Usurping the light, consuming the man within.


Relishing to see Julia's feet dancing on the strings,

Irritating to see her bleed from her wings.


Though, what can a man do against such an invitation

Yer touch of lust is a pathway to eternal damnation.


If I myself am no one, then you shall complete me,

Such strong desire, how delusive can it be?


Death shan't do us part as reaper can't consume love,

Eternal as it is, we harpooned the blackest dove.


As a gift shall he praise upon thy God,

To torment of love shall he chain himself,

Hours of dawn born anew, so shall sing the lady herself.


the body,


Perplexing how one may not desire such a body,

Until found what I crave, the man is a slave.


Revolve around the scent of my hair,

In my temple will you find the sex I wear.


To embark on such a journey with me,

As a penetrated salvation, the bleeding sea,

Nihilist, too, will believe the beauty at surrounds thee.


By my hand shall you free thy soul of lust,

Over my dead body shall your chains turn crust.


Do shall bodies dance, with souls tasting the wine,

Youth came for blood, the soul came for the body, a poisonous vine.


and the Hands.


The body is a harp, shall your fingers linger around it,

Quench thy thirst for the purple fountain leaks no more,

The flesh is a lock, the key within.

For what shall you keep it,

If not to suppress the wine?

Oh, to love is to spread your wings,

And kill the cold of lingering limbs.

To leak the lust out of your finger tips,

Is to reach uneven creation beyond God.

A poisonous venom you are,

Obsessing the receiver with a scar.

Alas, the kiss is no more,

As the lips are a bore.

Independence has its wings shred,

As the lair only craves scales on a bed.

To drink some, thy hand shall pour,

To come anew is to spread war...

...and see the beauty of flesh in its gore.

But the wound is ephemeral, so is the spirit.

Come dear, the time is nigh,

Fill the glass and enjoy the sky.


With respect to David Herbert Lawrence, as he unlocked a new depth of poetry for me.

An awakening of consciousness to say.

December 17th, 2021

Secundus


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