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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Satire >> ID #1155659 |
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Ah, sweet Soul! Don't ache! The rumblings so near to thy neighboring stomach didn't intend to awaken you! Oh, Heart! Undisturbed, as yet, please don't pain if you hear that two such entities within complain of their reasons! But now the Mind that governs is uneasy and trembling us all. What shall we do if he argues and provokes a deathly fall? We call upon you, "Reason, help!" But Desire overrides, unwilling to motivate these limbs, these eyes, this Heart, and all within that lie down and cry. Oh, poor suffering wanton organs that once reveled in such sweet delight, calm, please don't stir and affright, invoking the invasive numbing devices. But alas, from beyond our defenses enters the acidic foreign mediator, sliding ever so violently down, straight to the argumentative pit. In time, we will all obediently react to this desensitizing pleasure, to escape this unendurable reality, that ambrosial anatomy she stole away. Woe! When shall we all connect ethereal Happiness with her reality and exist amongst her breathing organs to never feel such stark insecurity? Turmoil rots fast thy addled head! Anxiety stirs thy Soul's latching implements. Impatience invades the cavernous heart before all set to war and tear us apart. I spent a lot of time studying British Romantic literature/poetry and the saturation of all these materials had to be purged and this poem was born.
© Copyright 2006 Brian Keith Compton (UN: bkcompton at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
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