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JerryPat2
Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975
South Louisiana

0 posted 2011-10-14 07:34 AM


in the mist of a heavy fog
I see the reason for my longing
she stands
bare foot propped upon a cypress stump
a primeval, corporeal female
staring at me with eyes which define color
they are the hue you want them to be
at any given time
chameleon in the truest sense
the secret has been exposed for centuries
the eyes are the entrance to our souls
our souls take on many aspects and forms
so too
does the doorway to these hidden secrets and Ids
her physical characteristics
beside the evil spirit
devilish eyes
are everyman's wanting
it can be said her breasts
like her eyes
become whatever is desired
to whomever cast their gaze upon them
the same can be said, then, of her cheerful red hair
cheerful as opposed to
the moodiness of her whole form
as one circumvents the curve in her waist
before it expands into magnificence
molding into exquisite hips
holding this beautiful body upright
two, pleasing-to-the-eye, well-molded and devastatingly
long legs
they don't give off the musty feel
nor the look of crudity
all said and done
the fog-cloaked body is beautiful
not by today's standards, not runway beautiful, no
hers is primitive; Eve to Adam.
Why has she come?
Now, when I have nothing left to give.

I stand up to my virtual hips
in obfuscating surroundings even in the best of times
the density of the swamp
alongside the finality of thoughts
which abound in this ruthless quagmire of a bog
whose conflagration comes at me as a fire-storm of raw
searing droplets of miasma
where even crocs leave in the nighttime hour
the breathable air-- within the boundaries of the clinging moss
the scummy rancid bayou water
the obscene trees with their gnarled limbs
pointing toward me as if writhing in ecstasy
is painful to breathe
but I shan't hold my breath
fearing the dead within me will claim
my contemptible, scabby, and gangrenous soul
But not her.
This is where she comes to wallow in gloat.

somewhere, deep within the man I used to be
I turn away from the real flesh and blood apparition
and attempt the impossible
to leave
but no, that is a fantasy and can never be
just as Lot's wife could not help herself
I turn back for one last glimpse at the woman
who heaped upon me
a nightmarish torment which will soon come to fruition
in this hellhole
it's as though I am turning back
for one more suckle on mother's teat
but I know full well the breast she offers
is full of malignant pus and it comes from the beast
wearing the skin of the one I loved
but her inside her inner soul lies wicked and cunning Medea
just as she did in the mythology of the Greeks
she has given me a death of boiling water
in the form of this insidious swamp
I stand, staring at my executioner
wanting to speak
but I know there is nothing left to say
I want to call out her name
reach my hands out, to beseech her to . . .
there, then, is the problem
there is nothing to say
no entreaties to fall on deaf ears
no sobs to melt the pitiless space within her chest
where a heart is supposed to reside
no matter how pathetic I make my face
her eyes will be blind to them as she has in the past
so I do nothing
nothing can be done
my death has been a long time coming
I have been in its clutches for many years
now I wait
sensing my capitulation to the inevitable she thinly smiles.
Alma, I whisper.


© Copyright 2011 Jerry Pat Bolton - All Rights Reserved
Lori Grosser Rhoden
Member Patricius
since 2009-10-10
Posts 10202
Fair to middlin' of nowhere
1 posted 2011-10-14 09:40 AM


Dancing with the devils of your past...
The beauty bitter sweet and taunting.
Excellent write.

Lori

JerryPat2
Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975
South Louisiana
2 posted 2011-10-14 10:32 AM


Thank you Lori.

~*~ Tell me whom you love, and I will tell you who you are.--Houssaye ~*~

JL
Member Ascendant
since 2004-04-01
Posts 6128
Texas, USA
3 posted 2011-10-14 02:49 PM


"but I know full well the breast she offers
is full of malignant pus and it comes from the beast
wearing the skin of the one I loved
but her inside her inner soul lies wicked and cunning Medea
just as she did in the mythology of the Greeks
she has given me a death of boiling water
in the form of this insidious swamp
I stand, staring at my executioner
wanting to speak"

Jerry, this is bleak and a strain to read.  
Have you read much Poe?  Nightmarish...
Reads like something from a Stephen King script.
You do have a vivid imagination.



JL


Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul,and with all your mind. Love your neighbor as yourself.
Maranatha!

JerryPat2
Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975
South Louisiana
4 posted 2011-10-14 03:57 PM


If it is a strain to read, JL, don't read. Yes, I have read Poe. Yes, I have read King.

Thank you for your comments.

~*~ Tell me whom you love, and I will tell you who you are.--Houssaye ~*~

JamesMichael
Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-16
Posts 33336
Kapolei, Hawaii, USA
5 posted 2011-10-19 07:32 PM


A pleasure to read...you are a fine writer....James
JerryPat2
Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975
South Louisiana
6 posted 2011-10-19 08:37 PM


Thank you, James, your comments are appreciated.

~* The saddest words of tongue or pen are the words It might have been.--John Greenleaf Whittier ~*~

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