AN
AFTER-VALENTINE
After chilled-goblets
have kissed and lay emptied,
when heart-shaped
dalliances reservoir evidence of recent plunder,
then the slow-waning
spirit of our lost-effervescence is cut asunder,
by recollections of
distant, brilliant moments when we were more gaily arrayed with love...
O’ but to be so
arrayed in a celebrated fashion when by our emotions we are formed into a fleeting
masterpiece of unscripted passion, O’ to lay upon seduction’s very bed displayed...
its a kind of instantaneous stardom that cannot be underplayed, a statement celebrated
many lifetimes before it has been made…
Who would not
like to know how to be that archetypal bas-relief of o’er-embellished, earthly
pluperfection… in Edenistic repose, freshly defoliated and unencumbered by
external fetters, naked unto a wisdom that realizes how much less can actually
be better, cool but not overly self-conscious, not unbelievably suited to
exceed rigorous inspection…
to be serene as each
naughtily-entangled escapade unwinds, to explore uncovering more of lifes undocumented,
erotic finds, at least that was how we were ere fates cooling fever bent our
minds toward comparative reflection, ere sex and its philosphic rival love cut and
set before our scrutiny entirely different cosmologic transverse and
longitudinal sections, love was lost in a battle of critical-masses in-between
the two or so infinitesimal directions it simply vanished! if for no other reason
than because its mojo had no garantees or surplused protections…
we found that
love was not exempt from the corrosive inevitabilities of corporeal-clay…
it matteted not to
be cleverly spoken with a handsomely seductive inflection, gifted with a manly
eloquence confident in its expression…
we longed again to
be blessed with non-decay, sweeter every day, inviolate, sumptuously talented at erotic play, posessed
by a full-moon lust lasting into day and
e’er coming back to stay… to stay..
O' how sensuously
grand it is to understand a players most talented argument, orchestrated for
the aquisition of virtual trophies, won in a tournament of lovely things to
say... but fortified at the end of the day, with a genuine gentlemanliness
forged to overpower orgasmic fever, even when brewed with the blessings of a bed-shaking
session… in the throes of a genital-induced testosterone-aggression, penetrated
by the pinnacle of manly expression, living up to a mandingo legend carved from
the fat of celebrated moans, ceiling-piercing ecstacy-screams and seductive
overtones, enamored of the densely coagulating, vaporising lust-musk of mutual
arousal, preoccupied with the utterance of un-metered gasps poured liberally o’er
sex-sweated linens,
There was a time
when i was otherwise too focused on the prize to litter random commentary away,
there being no lovers manual i am copelled to betray what silence has built as an
art to keep eavesdroppers at bay, but there is nothing harmful for the nameless
to say, who bring only the handsomest pleasure to my day...
Cheers to an
unbridled lustiness too intrinsic to be an obsession, too natural to qualify as
a lesson and too distant now from our pathetic ritual to expect a sympathetic
rekindling, the romantic re-enactment of a love whose absence magnifies its distance
from the habitual, our love has degraded to a soul-less malaise trapped in a bottles
bottom as a dense bitter residual...
What is more,
love has been absent too long to elicit pain and yet still speaks to an
un-quenched yearning that laughs ironically midst the refrain,
But a rusty
soliloquy manages some poigniant utterances evoked more as a lesson to lovers written
in the thoughtful moments of dying days that says...
Empty bottles
belie captive happinesses when released,
may not represent
the expected and uncertain outcomes of wine,
wise lovers tend
to rely on more reliable signs distilled from sexier times, farmed from
healthier vines,
whose less-sober
details do not conveniently evanesce when poured…
retaining most of
the seductive profile that famously tempted each thirsty habit presented deliberately
as a magicians rabbit marketed to titillate a lusty pallette rendering it
pre-aroused as a stealth feature accessory to being lured...
Therefore, when
life flows it’s vital vibrancy should be attended, for this reason provocateurs
of cute naughtinesses come highly recommended, under their tutelege a soft, leisurely
decadence is happily defended, offended by nothing save on the occasion that
frolics should be prematurely suspended by prudence decorated as the most
convenient wisdom thst can be ptetended…
Life knows only
to continue spilling untill notified that it is ended, for the river it is preserves
no instinct for conservation, extinguishing itself at the same time it effervesces
in a glorious conflagration… after ever staging one last magnanimous cessation,
as if death more so than love were mans last and most meaningful act of universalization…
The unknown
promise of death threatens every breath and like the uncertain status of love
paints indecipherable murals upon the firmament of life, without deference to
the fates, its elements meander for eternities beyond the quaint embankments we
occasion,
flirting with
different shores as a glint of lapping waves gainst sun and moonlight with
nautically-blown kisses... there is the burning and meaningful element an
extinguished love misses!
Soliloquy ended!
Mostly our love
has degraded from a visionary ceremony to an obsequious game a symbolic love mistaking
habitual proximity for sacred intimacy once culled from the source where love
was mined… its essence departed leaving no latent clues, nothing remains of the
elements from which old passions were refined, we breathe the wind of a new
situation and the past is a stepping stone to rejuvenation its deed is drawn and
we have only to sign…
I say, nothing
remains of the elements from which old passions were refined,
save an abandoned
love and the trappings it left behind, it
is a ruin licked-away by time becoming the sullen scene of an after-valentine…
Written by :
BIGDADDY BLUES
we’ve witnessed
as pledged-affections are conquered,
by avoidable circumstances
guided into being
we wonder how
could old affections be forgot
denoting precisely what love is not!
