poems of the week...

Confession

Doubt is an ocean, love is a ship off course,
and your words are sticks to beat my fingers
as they clutch the edge of the deck.
The salt of tears has made my face coarse
like the sea-wind does to men awreck.
I've lost the ground from beneath my feet
the moment your eyes started to wander -
I never craved a large following fleet
just the one you that can be my anchor.
Where is the flame of hatred to keep love burning?
Where is the answer to the seemingly lost yearning?
Where are you among the mists of this storm?
Where is the angel who used to keep me warm?
I still treasure a dream of you, so firm,
armed with a rifle and resolve of steel -
growing soft only in my arms.
I miss you like clean water, my dear.

Awakening

Yet another grey morning
reflecting upon the cowardice
that prevents ending the row of mornings
once and for all.

Freedom

Perhaps this is what freedom is like -
when nobody wants you,
you can finally get on with yourself.
It is human to crave freedom - but then
why is it so sour when achieved?
It freezes the mind - so it can't even bleed
the cathartic words it used to spill before.
Nothing remains that could be called true.
The urge strikes for more.

Sensual

so warm lips and slender fingers
red metallic taste and smell
on my neck her white hands tighten
down there i feel something swell
love carved into skin - feed the beast within
two drops become one - now all doubt is gone

consciousness fades out like embers
then awakened by sweet pain
embracing eternal moment
kisses and wine of the vein
the best kind of sin - makes life worth living
two drops become one - now we reach the sun

Bitter

One man who dared to raise the flag,
just one who dared to fight -
he tried to save the prodigal sons
and daughters of the northlight.
Do they deserve a hero if
they take his voice away?
Are they worth being kept alive,
or is this their chosen way?
A single torch is not enough
when darkness drowns the world;
"one swallow does not summer make",
as here it's often heard.
When walls are raised among our hearts,
who is to really trust?
For grim walls are the due reward
if one does what he must.

Torn

A vessel of your seed - that is
what I was intended for.
But love came as a mighty auger,
a hole in my fate it bore.
To follow your will, weak and dumb,
I'm too much of a man;
yet I have no staff of my own,
to follow is all I can.
I have cursed love - but curses melt
away in its dark realm.
I've cursed nature - but its stony heart
no mortal can whelm.
A loveless tree bears rotten fruit -
a fruitless branch will fade;
you, who have both, won't understand
what have my gods forbade.