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b.larset

Spirals From Pleasure

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Spirals from pleasure of lifeís lost
moments is merely a sentence in,
structure and despair. It is more
a place we fall and continue to go
when our dreams and needs can
no longer give us their hope, taught
to us thru feelings and buried in
our senses for a struggle to feel.


Then down we must go.
Falling into the listless wonder of
pains grown with overbearing
memories and separations eternal.
From hosts of emotions we worked
so hard to let run free, infecting
us with embers, the sparks that
caught hold and flamed the fuel
of generous tensions readied in us.


Then a thing of beauty , one.
Perfect at a time, singular in itís
splendor. Now ; becomes a tool
we use to feed the dire abyss of
what can no longer be seen and
will never be shared . Now a
number not used to heal ; but
wounds us as we breath .


Once so good to us as it was in us-love.
We are now driven lower to less than
ever was, and still more nothing to come.
As we feel an enormous space with the
potential for difference far less then
the heights we soared as we fell and
felt out loud together for a time.


Adjectives rendered useless; we see
the hurt . Unable to move words
our vocabulary frozen. We cannot
use letters to make up anything,
no matter how descriptive to show
this falling-ness or more yet the
weightiness of still less.


Drowning us as it floods the moment
rising up to choke off the sensibilities
of thought and reason. Giving voice
to our eyes as they scream in an
expressionless morose .


Overcome with the grief.
Several tastes of bitter, in
non-common and vile untested
directions. Generate these immense
sufferings. Exercising a clause in
this our contract of wonder
by stopping expressly
any free exercise of affection.


Thus, we are bound through,
stages of bliss to damnableness.
When dreamy in our notions
we furled endearments to and
fro as pretentious shards harmless
in the innocent playfulness of love .


Words of kindness and longing
now placed near our hearts,
act like weapons used against
us in a battle to resolve this conflict,
of forever and never again.


Marks inside, stain us shades of
tender hurt, for what will be our always.
Soon to be tested , fading will start ,
lessoning the fear to be touched with
gentleness and care. Once again then.


For givingís sake we taste , aye again,
in times of weakness or budding will,
those causes of lifeís lost moments,
giving us strength to free fall the sorrows
of loves muted chorus of delight.

Updated 12-23-10 at 01:44 PM by b.larset

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Comments

  1. Albert Di Salvo's Avatar
    Ineffably beautiful. You're a gifted poet.
  2. b.larset's Avatar
    Thank you. That is so kind. I started another one today on my Visitors page here at DP. Called :
    [B] A Growing Of Forgetting[/B]
    Updated 12-21-10 at 02:56 PM by b.larset
  3. b.larset's Avatar
    This is what I listened to while I wrote , Spirals From Pleasure:
    [video=youtube;7bnX-6sJZBw]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7bnX-6sJZBw[/video]