Love and her life

13 May, 2008

Love is like a whistling whore

Sexes and seduces

In tune with her melancholic folklore

She perishes in another’s passionate fire

Consummating her true self

As she beckons her highness, majesty or sire

Any dawn and dusk is far too anew

Spreads and screams

Left thousands who have tasted her on cue

She drags from one man’s arm to the others bed

Coaxes and caresses

In sweet illusion she skips away to the dead.


06 May, 2008

Do I turn to you, my love

At this moment of tragic inheritance

Or do I turn to you, my passionate word

To lay my bloody sword in meek acceptance

Coerced to the helm, partaken in both

To whom do I bid adieu is my own

Nothing left to perchance

Regret in the aftermath, none of which unavoidable

Love, they say, is blind

Led my hand where the hearts’ foreseen unkind

I have not sailed the seven seas

Nor climbed treacherous mountains

But give myself in his hands of peace

Yet to me the same sweet is my sour

For my words, I never did have to lure

To flow a path they picked

They rose and fell on their torrid fate

Not like anything man can ever make

But words, now owe it to him, their head and their toe

In birth speaketh his name, as in death

In his joy, in sorrow, in his humble and in vain

Here I place myself at the crossroads

Coerced to the helm, with a partake in both

Cause every pride has no more than one king

For I must chose the ruler of my married ring

Do I turn to you, my love

Do I turn to you, my word

Raise your Shoulders and Fall back on your Knees, Piss through a Dime For the Whole World Sees