"writing poetry, starts in my soul, flows through my heart, up to my head, then it's out of my hands"
Tuesday, 21 September 2010
Malgre Tout
Malgre Tout
One drink,
One more i say!
One more to quash
and wash
the smell away.
The acrid odour
of loves mephitic sway.
-Do i love you?
And i loved you!-
Hanging there,
Framed,
I care not,
I do care,
all words fallen deaf and lame,
never,
never the same!
-And i loved you!
My Drink?
Poison!
Poison i think,
or some bitter tasting longing,
that sucks lugubriously
from that festering sore,
where once a heart wept.
-And i loved you!
You,
who bore the semblance of a muse,
and fucked me heart,
me soul-
Till as virgins gush,
the spanking babe was dust,
all hidden,
Blown by loves farce and smitten.
-And i loved you!
Still,
I love you.
© Richard Michael Parker 1987
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