Grazing the Field, Fantastic
by Manas Moksha
For ever frozen on disheartening shivers.
Raised on introverted rhythms
of family dinner at five
and spoonfuls of father's genes
a dash of mother's snide resentment
frustration and rouge lipstick
in love's bosom
for granted, for better,
for ever reminded
for ever, for worse.
Guarding a spell
of forgotten shame
Grooves deep ceded into grains of quartz and shale, rough driven kernals that tear smoothe skin red and reason that scrapes painful soft cooing.
Extroverted songs of renewal and praise
shallow and shining
blithesome sesuality caresses my leg
and plays with ideas of stone-cold envy
The fear in the past
the songs that awaken my soul
the rhythm that quiets shimmering perturbations
The songs that awaken your soul.
She did it to you
He fucked you over
She ripped your tassles
He ran over your faith
She ate your gain
He shovelled you dirt
You ate the rhythms with your rhymes. Chewing on saffron and spitting up capsacin.
Posted on 11/01/2001
Copyright © 2020 Manas Moksha
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Kathleen Wilson on 03/18/07 at 04:57 PM|
Whew, a very intense look back at personal family history never fails to induce ""frozen on fantastical shivers". Powerful, hot stuff. Impressive insights, and expresses common yet specific relationships, with detailed imagery that seems generated from experience.