Esse-4-Pentagon

by Crimbobuline

Posted to Poetry on 2003-05-20 09:56:00

The airborn avalanche of night fire and rain,
Hidden beaches and pagan rituals extinguished,
Unfinished spirit tempted by infinity and liquid
To delve and deepen the myth of its own shadow form,
Descending cold shower spit dribble indefinite position
Mesmerising the fantastic urge to procreate at dusk,
To blow across the shallow tips of volcanoes
And express with 42 muscles the pain of Being.

We more than crossed paths in foreign lands,
Drifted into more than ships passing in darkness with radio whispers,
Shadow and light we filled equally briefly bound
Intimately from Paquera til the Bad Country,
Necessary harmonics join us there waist deep in sea and rain,
A liquid and transient kiss became depth and power,
A flower bloomed in an hour and wilted to ash,
Standing on a table in a china vase broken and cracked,
Water leaking reflections of milkless colour sap,
Sunshine locked away sweet in the ventricles of beating Now,
Walking a waltz unheard to rhythmic instincts,
Love is a box with no edges or centre, no lid and no lock,
And we are antipodes, two elements opposing two elements,
Completion scrying and translating obsoletion.

I’ve learnt a great lesson.