"writing poetry, starts in my soul, flows through my heart, up to my head, then it's out of my hands"
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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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