The Melancholy Malaise of Last Nights Memories

I’m bringing you a poem this week, since the podcast will follow along the lines with the book and I preempted the podcast by posting Carol-Ann and the Nothing Man first.  So enjoy listening with Carol-Ann this week and enjoy the poem.

This was the second poem I wrote during my “Bowling Alley” period.  It’s simple enough, my friends went through a bowling phase, of which I’m not much a fan so my imagination ran wild while.  In between rolls, I looked around at others through the beer haze of the alley.  I saw old men gathering, I saw teenagers trying to steal drinks, I saw homeless looking for a place to stay, and women, old and young trying to seduce others.  These images and personalities clashed in my mind and brought forth some of the most brash (If not outright ranty) poetry and prose I’ve ever done.  Hope you like it!

The Melancholy Malaise of Last nights Memories

Your pedantic search for truth

through unsuspecting lives,

leaves girls wondering

faith and cosmopolitan sexuality.

Leaves men pondering God

in tumultuous copulation.

The vulturous squalor

of your predatory eyes.

The death you feel in

age;

the uncouth joy you find in

desire.

I see the innocence,

the pure unkempt

youthfulness

in your smile.

The only vestige of

the life you desire.

You perspire and

extrapolate the need and desire of

men and boys.

The purpose your life has

derived.

With grasping limbs

and intertwining extremities,

the pulse of distinctive

and purely diabolic

hearts pound in unison.

The power and force of

your vapid conjointedness

juxtaposing reality.

You ask for faith.

You ask for belief.

You ask for hope.

Why dont you realize

these are pronouncements

only for the holy?

What you really crave,

what you really hunger

is desire.

That lust in a young man’s eye.

The postulation behind the

powerful.

That un-touched,

that un-satiated

that un-natural

Desire.

The type that doesn’t exist!

What you love is lust,

but what lust could love?

When is a letch good?

When is lasciviousness absolute?

With your talk of luxurious tapestries

and proportions of men,

wallet…or otherwise.

The vivaciousness of women

competent…or otherwise,

complimenting your overwhelming

denigrating power.

Your false Hubris.

Do you know?

How weak?

Disheveled?

Degrading?

How useless it is?

your

Desire?