Sunday, September 29, 2024

"Yogic Molting" a poem



Yogic Molting

 

This house is freezing

A home needs

Less your selfishly favored cold

You need a Tighter hold.

I grasp you with a thousand

Hindu arms

My Tender.

I Will do you no harm

But you a million times

Belong to me

And I will never

Let you go.

 

Long time molting.

Midlife crisis.

Age forty-four

Gut rot for weeks

Finally done.

I have used

Spiritual tongue

Up my nose

To clean my brain

Or bended beckwards

Up my own asshole

Yogic stretches.

 

I feel a moment of crisis

I could jump out of my skin

This home is so cold

If I had your hold now

You could spare me this

Entire crisis

But icicles

On my nose

I suppose

'Cause here we go.

 

This dad bod

Maya-fit

Infinite containing

Every nation

Every babe

Every animal, everything atom

A cell in my tissues

Tissues in my organs

Hello good morning

Bedtime

Bathroom

Eat, sleep

Laugh weep.

Work rest

Test

Test?

Good.

 

I castrated him

My Ama-appointed devil

Manticore who chortles

Layers of teeth

Nine scorpion tales.

He missed his mark.

You call this torture, Iago?

I take the cat-o-nine-tails

And masturbate myself with

Violence

Use your scratch of hell

Ultimate potency

Of molten flame

And scathe my own flesh.

You torture like somebody's grandmother

Let this MONSTER show you

How tis done

I pick away the mortal parts

Let the flames of hell

Eat all that can be eaten

Us gods feel love in hell

It is our traveling

Our holiday

Our hottub

Our sacred springs

I settle in

The place acclimates to me.

The pressure is gone.

 

I stretch

Endless yogic stretches

Impossible leaps

Like Uroburus

Eating himself

All the way down

And all the way down

And all the way down again

Till Asymptotically

He splits infinity.

So, I split and spend

My splendid flesh

Godflesh

Resurrected

Eternal.

"Destroyer"

As Niviana called him

My godcock

Rises in pride now

I think of my wife

Filling her utterly up

And find bliss almost

Immediately.

Wait till I get to you

Mrs. June!

But my flesh needs

More convalescence yet

Before my pride over my pride

This blond beast over his own pride

Family June

Reminds you

How utterly he owns you.

Sherry, I fully own you

For the bliss of my will.

 

I bought you at a price.

I paid for you with my life

I went to utter hell for thee

And utter hell

Forever shall remain

A part of me

Because of you.

What can you do?

Tis hopeless, I think

Let that sink in my love

Hold is your hold

Happiness is in your arms

I will do you no harm

The Two become One

As before

When our love

Made children in our very image

We made love and

The love walked and breathed

Like Sarah, you will find

Further motherhood

In your womb from me

In your older years too

Spiritual children

Divine things

Anon.

This is my Love Song

Sherry,

And I sing it for thee.

 

88

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