Sunday, June 23, 2013

Dirty Monsoon Musings




Everyone is deeply lonely within himself and is equally motivated to share that loneliness as well as to preserve it against the trespass. We express our liking by denuding ourselves by laying open our hearts and inviting the person we like to trespass into our inner solitude. Then comes a stage when the desire to preserve that inner solitude becomes stronger than the desire to share it and we say to ourselves and to the person we think we love. Thus far and no further. That writes finis to that escaped and we are ready to launch into another. Love is transitory, one dies, a new one burgeons with each new monsoon. Lust abides tell we can lust no more.

Songs of love are anemic but songs of lust are full blooded and earthly. “When spirit and body interlaminate each other, they produce that lyrical experience; fulfillment. But when the trafficking between them is unequal; when they are speaking as it were, in different tongues then”. Between conception and creation, between emotion and response between desire and the spasm, between potency and existence falls the shadow.

License my roving hands, and let them go
Before, behind, between above, below.

All men are born voyeurs performing the childish delights of stumping on a scene of unsuspecting nymphs unclothed rather than stage managed acts of strip-tease. The male ego is unconcerned with response.

And as the last show sudden drops are shed from sparking caves when all the storm are fled

You women, I make my way
I am stern, acid, and large
Undissuaslable, but I love you,
I do not hurt you any more
Than is necessary for you
I pour the stuff so start sons & daughters fit for these states.

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