Stalking Desjo

[Desejo]

Men confuse the blank stare
of non-comprehension
or simple resignation
with innocence

Gaugin’s gilt-framed quarry
paraded the village in a new sarong
When she visited to see her portrait
She left it in a silken pile on the floor

Looking up at from under his white back
she admired her own beauty
and smiled

I am game, perhaps.
but my game is different.

[bogusagain]

men fool themselves
it’s an innate talent of their sex
to maintain the species

why else would he butt in
to some woman’s life
as though she misses
some vital part

if I was so inclined
I would study the Buddha
conquer my desires
thwart the affliction of anticipation

but I’m more Socrates
chained to his madness
more Maillol with feeling
passing through his fingers

the games we play
confused and confusing
you Claudel to my Rodin
I seek to enter the Cathedral
you with higher ambitions

[HarryHill]

Originally Posted by Desejo

Men confuse the blank stare
of non-comprehension
or simple resignation
with innocence

Gaugin’s gilt-framed quarry
paraded the village in a new sarong
When she visited to see her portrait
She left it in a silken pile on the floor

Looking up at from under his white back
she admired her own beauty
and smiled

I am game, perhaps.
but my game is different.

..
Awaking from dreams
to overcast reality
Geminied clouds
of fact and fiction
falling

What better way to spend a rainy day
than by tying nets of words for you

Does it rain there
in deluge or sprinkle?
Are your clouds singular
or non-existent?
Does your coat of rain
make you impermeable
or can you feel
the drops
from my clouds?

Yours have found me
completely permeable
I am soaked
to the soul

[Desejo]

Originally Posted by HarryHill

..
Awaking from dreams
to overcast reality
Geminied clouds
of fact and fiction
falling

What better way to spend a rainy day
than by tying nets of words for you

Does it rain there
in deluge or sprinkle?
Are your clouds singular
or non-existent?
Does your coat of rain
make you impermeable
or can you feel
the drops
from my clouds?

Yours have found me
completely permeable
I am soaked
to the soul

Another sweet one, Harry. Maybe it's just me (the stalked, in theory at least) but you do well on this sort of thing. I will respond to this a bit later, right now I have a cloud over my head that is reminiscent of Schleprock on the Flintstones. I need to wait for it to clear a bit.

[Desejo]

Originally Posted by bogusagain

men fool themselves
it’s an innate talent of their sex
to maintain the species

why else would he butt in
to some woman’s life
as though she misses
some vital part

if I was so inclined
I would study the Buddha
conquer my desires
thwart the affliction of anticipation

but I’m more Socrates
chained to his madness
more Maillol with feeling
passing through his fingers

the games we play
confused and confusing
you Claudel to my Rodin
I seek to enter the Cathedral
you with higher ambitions

Vital Signs

The doctor checks my pulse,
reflexes
tests the level of fight in my blood
looks for stealth incursions
manifested in inflammation, marks
aches and pains
Vital signs

It’s all ok. Except I miss

The wild race of my pulse,
reflexes
to endorphins released in blood
after stealth incursions
manifested in inflammation, marks
aches and pains
Vital signs

So yes, something vital is missing.

[bogusagain]

Originally Posted by Desejo

Vital Signs

The doctor checks my pulse,
reflexes
tests the level of fight in my blood
looks for stealth incursions
manifested in inflammation, marks
aches and pains
Vital signs

It’s all ok. Except I miss

The wild race of my pulse,
reflexes
to endorphins released in blood
after stealth incursions
manifested in inflammation, marks
aches and pains
Vital signs

So yes, something vital is missing.

I lay awake in sullen Berlin
oppressed beneath the ceiling’s pressing weight
my faults, a totalling of accounts
passively recorded and weighed against me
like the heart that beats too often
it's merely an accusation
but the facts require this as evidence
before passing quickly onto the liver

a fly circles its irritation
I'm too cold for its attraction
meat without the blood
the brain without the heart
all meaning and little purpose
my bladder swells like a bag of insults I refuse to empty
I indolently endure my discomfort
and consider my plight
self fulfilling the multiplication
of my insignificance
the apartment is quiet
there have been no visitors

within my chest
a hole has opened up
a vacuum swelling like a balloon
eating me from inside out
something vital within me has been devoured
consumed in a conversation
I empathise with those in a similar plight
but like Dracula I’m compelled by my condition
to satisfy my appetite

[Tzara]

The Compleat Angler
God never did make a more calm, quiet, innocent recreation than angling.
—Isaak Walton

I could lay a jawed trap
deep in dark chocolate reeds,
drop a line in some red wine’s stream,

or I could simply talk,
and with calm tongue set the hook
that hauls you up by the lips

into the prow of my boat,
where you will flop and gasp and quiver
even while I am the one who dies.

[Desejo]

Originally Posted by Tzara

The Compleat Angler
God never did make a more calm, quiet, innocent recreation than angling.
—Isaak Walton

I could lay a jawed trap
deep in dark chocolate reeds,
drop a line in some red wine’s stream,

or I could simply talk,
and with calm tongue set the hook
that hauls you up by the lips

into the prow of my boat,
where you will flop and gasp and quiver
even while I am the one who dies.

Really, really beautiful. And I am most grateful you did not use a whaling reference

[Tzara]

Originally Posted by Desejo

Really, really beautiful. And I am most grateful you did not use a whaling reference

I'm more of a trout fisherman, myself:

The Song of Wandering Aengus
William Butler Yeats

I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And someone called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

[HarryHill]

You seem troubled my pet
Your words are slow to fall
Upon ear and thought
And I have naught to say

Lost in my own shackles
Chains rattle as I walk
Chalk floored paths worn
Twix prison walls of grey

Hearing catpadded footsteps
Soft rhythms pass 'cross floor
Meowed greetings and farewell
Here kitty kitty, please stay

Purr here on my lap awhile
Let me stroke away your cares
While nee highed massages
Contented carresses leg in play

[twelveoone]

in thailand?
i'm smilin
(and there is something evil
about the grin)
but other than that...

how have ya been?


makes me want to go listen to the rolling stones

Miss You

the long version

[Desejo]

Well, I'm not there yet. Last time I was there Lit was blocked, and I won't have much time to write anyway - at least not poetry.

How have I been? A roller coaster, but one with more low dips than highs.
What happened, did your computer get swept away by Sandy?

[butters]

Originally Posted by Tzara

The Compleat Angler
God never did make a more calm, quiet, innocent recreation than angling.
—Isaak Walton

I could lay a jawed trap
deep in dark chocolate reeds,
drop a line in some red wine’s stream,

or I could simply talk,
and with calm tongue set the hook
that hauls you up by the lips

into the prow of my boat,
where you will flop and gasp and quiver
even while I am the one who dies.

just discovered this

sumptuous

[Desejo]

Indeed. One of my favorite Tzara weak-in-the-knee inducing poems.

[HarryHill]

I am still at my task,
footsore but dauntless.
Prey gambols away.
Steadfast hunter follows

Wry grin, huffing resignation,
chase continues no hesitation.
Except:
for a drink or two, a cheery fire
ere I retire to dream of you.

Predawn:
Cold, dark, shivering
Pack camp and move quickly.
Fair game sleeps in the sullen dawning.
..
Posted this one in new poems under the non erotic catagory. Hurry home soon. I hope you will forgive the lack of a period in the first stanza. I'll leave an extra one here..

[Desejo]

Originally Posted by HarryHill

I am still at my task,
footsore but dauntless.
Prey gambols away.
Steadfast hunter follows

Wry grin, huffing resignation,
chase continues no hesitation.
Except:
for a drink or two, a cheery fire
ere I retire to dream of you.

Predawn:
Cold, dark, shivering
Pack camp and move quickly.
Fair game sleeps in the sullen dawning.
..
Posted this one in new poems under the non erotic catagory. Hurry home soon. I hope you will forgive the lack of a period in the first stanza. I'll leave an extra one here..

Hi Harry - rare break in internet censorship here for a day or so. I doubt if I will have access beyond today. But I'll be baaaaack around April 4, and looking forward to that.

[HarryHill]

I bought that book,
the one that comprises your signature,
Hanging like a string of red yarn
before my slitted eyes.
Inviting a playful paw after long contemplation
that became silly tomfoolery
pulling the skein from your lap
and entangling me.