Reflections | Hit Head Here! | Gates of Hell | Winetasting with Darkside! | Darkside Destroys Himself!
Gates of Hell
Faux Shakespeare
If I had but some mark for which thy beauty to compare,
then words may just serve a more noble purpose.
Yet there bears no standard within which such vision lies,
and so true expression of passionate fire
lies buried in most illumined corners of the heart,
ne'er to see the light of day by pitifully ill verbiage.
And so my soul is a willing prisoner in thrall of your glorious aspect,
paralysed by caressing intent and worship of fair form.
My breath is held a subdued hostage
to your laughter and sighs, the depth in your eyes.
My body is torn and rendered as the fodder
for consumption by your sweet humanity.
And should I just with intent and most desirous gaze admire
the vessel, living and mild, that would be my Utopia,
with bounteous bosom softly heaving with welcome grace
under the gentle breath of each new hope.
Skin that may intoxicate humble man with its loveliness,
shoulders, back, hips, thighs - shaped so elegant as tender lines of a swan.
Yet here I remain, manacled to this form of crude matter by truth,
unable to reach out to embrace beauty's angel,
ever fearing that clumsy touch of damask gossamer wing
will lose me eternal this avenue of delight!
Alone I sit, watching from afar, hidden within good intentions
to prevent fright or flight, and give freedom my enchantment...
COPYRIGHT 2001 - "Reflections From The DarkSide"