In Pursuit of Passion (A Fortiori – with Greater Reason)
These will not be easy lines
Not easy thoughts to speak.
For your loveliness will be upon them,
And make them make me weak.
You and I are young
You have had a thousand poems,
Written in love for you.
But how many more are to be written
With a heart so full and true,
Before your stone and walled muscle
Will let yourself be you?
So I commit my thoughts to graver things
Communicating you will see,
Confessing a passion to pursuit
Confronting the two, as we.
Counting the days I wished you here
Competing with my son Poemimus,
Condemning me to you.,
Confounding me with further things.
So more poetry will pour forth
More lipless lines,
More to the hated hour
More poetic pasty lies,
More truths than you dare read
More in between the lives,
More despair than weighty thoughts
More than I say to you, again,
Then let occults cut my veins of life
I wish to see, I wish tonight,
The painful past where I do go,
Would lily-white so you should know,
Beneath this very throne of homes
To print these very sacrificial words
To burn the feeling very fine,
To love this clarity that’s blind.
Do you not take my point?
Then thrust me to bare.
And kissing my Dread Lips
As you did but once,
Syphon my blackened bones,,
So pickling raw my memory
To keep me safely by.
But will you walk to me
As I to the last place of rest?
No I think not in your girlish ways.
You can not see,
I am neither here nor there.
End of Part 1
© 2018 Christopher Thompson
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