9/26/16

Vex Paradox

I am not one for remembering flesh
Breasts have been soft and inviting; lavishly titillating
And thighs have been my milky way; almost atmospheric
But I’d be lying if I declared myself all-knowing;
seeing how pain is rarely as misplaced as pleasure
Misery, the counterfeit concubine
of every soul-bearing warrior

We are recipes of change, feeding upon ourselves;
immortal only in our knowledge of those things tasted
Suffering strings may weep in all of our dreams,
yet only a precious few of us are driven to tears
Any part of what bliss saves for us in each lifetime,
some are too afraid to ever spend
And so empty indulgence is disguised as sufficient

Luck is a modest word for what life has given
She provides us the scales from heaven to hell
Those leaving the arms of their friends
will return home to find some still vacant,
others reborn
As lovers, we abide hatred;
seeking shelter estranged to the storm
As warlords, we uniform peace;
setting fire upon ice
This world is all of every dream that is dreamed;
filled with hopefuls who, at heart,
seek to be found truly lost

The sky won’t be falling, the tide shant evade
Nor shall one single soul wither
till it has spoken its line

Poetry from Emotional Mythologies by Shane Windham
E-book and paperback now on Amazon.com

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