Wednesday, July 24, 2013

"Private" a poem



There's something in you that wants

To scar the face of beauty

To mar the soul of the ones that shine.

How could I in the inner of my garden

Permit such rueful intelligence

And critical superiority

Amidst the subtle things

Which gossamer the winds

Of this hidden place?


Your invidious superiority

And supernumerary ordinances

Blaspheme this place of the graceful unnamed

Your appraisals by numbers

And dispositions witty

The unsayable pleasures of hidden founts

Revolt against, and like a blighted flower

Shrivel at your sneer.

Why submit my subtle and savage precocious ones

To your patronizing blindness?

Your tolerance of my strangeness?

Your patience with what should

Shiver you to your core?

I sang a song of a broken heart

Your heart remained unbroken

I sang a praise of a soul full blown

You laughed at such pretention.

Better to remain the eternal unknown

Solitary and shining in the inner bright of my night.



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