February 7, 2007

onus operandi

oh that old demon regret
what's the old saying?
hindsight is 50/50?

did I?

yea....you did
get over it
you're gonna have a lot of such episodes
in this fun place called life
you can't live in the past
that bye is gone

and why did you?
the 20 million dollar question....
because at the time
it seemed like the right thing to do?

were you questioning yourself at the time?
no, you probably weren't
so why now?


human conscious
a bruised ego that needs to be stroked
or the devil's handiwork?
idle minds and all that....
another one of those platitudes


flashing foible of blood and flame
leashing reason
imbuing the wielder with unmeasurable dao
to engage, retaliate
and furnish answers
and hung to intellect's hilt

the flash of insight
as it descends to decision
wracked with morality's edge
......a two-headed split
one to passion
the other falls 'long violence
ripe with jehad

the phallic swallowing
of power coroneted
with will and mercy,
virility, heresay
religion, state
and faith

it's tang strong and rarefied
edged with the sun's corona
and spleen's animus
the ricasso mark
a ten petaled manipura
assimilating the prey's birr......
in the sweetest of passion's

orbis singulus

aberrant particles static bound with introspection's
deep well of soul wrenching compromise,
the exclusive tread the most desired of options,
though for some a burden of abysmally monumental proportions

quarantined by choice, the retreat into wilderness
outre perceptions battered by quixotic auras
bent on breaching mile-high columned shrieks
of agonizing rarity....
those misguided baffoons of society's twisted hauntings,
pleating at some unknown junction,
their influx warped, battered,
rubbing impregnable, dangerous,
elliptical seams

oh, to be abandoned....
with ever-receding assumptions
washing out to far-flung black holes,
hanging amongst insignificant husks of scoured refuse


frilled leather wafting on heated breeze
the voir floats
with no cumpuncture
for reeling ardor

oh that little girl
such a vicious vixen
so affectionate to those of like ilk
it takes a master of spite
to master the sprite

pacing her dominion, scrying facets
obsessed over spilt gratification
she is a feverish counterpoint
to vision gone rampant

take aim and cast the dragonette's gasp,
lie low, hold back
to reap and seed the destruction
of her gilded talons dipped in fiery bliss
....such a loving monster