Reality is the Irregularity of the Past.

Monday, January 31, 2011

Love is not worth a lifetime for

Love is not worth a lifetime for;

Only Death brews lifelong—

To the lips, coursing drunk, wherefor

Have all the daft lovers gone?

Love lost Her grapple for;

For the grope and the throng—

For the Great Lamb in Paramour

Hast raped the muddy Swan!

Why not lust one life evermore,

Than allow dust t’prolong?

Till Nature’s thrust comes nevermore

In Love’s blinding singsong—

Man’s propensity t’score;

To steal and have a proclaimed Prong,

To flaunt hither and thither for

Coiling Women’s diphthong—

They do lie well in double-score;

By speech, divides the tongue—

Emotion purged in loss and lore:

Love’s tale doth best Her song.

Love is not worth a lifetime, for

Life’s but a world furlong—

For living passion is cocksure

T’surpass in gobs among

The maid and the maiden’s door—

Through in and out, along

Slinky moans and a silk contour

It’s Lust in love’s sarong!

What is love that was not lust before?

Mayhaps a word, or a strong

Odor exuded from the Core;

Or A-night stand oblong?

The misconception lies, therefore,

‘Tween Love and Lust’s erelong

State is not a hair-splitting roar,

But the placement of Tongue.

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