Poetic Interlude VIII

I’m only reasonably certain that I haven’t posted these before, Gentle Reader. Whatevs. It’s Sunday, and I’m going to try to make Sunday the Day of the Poetic Interlude. There’ll be a new post in a day or two, kids. For now, I’m going to be watching Arrested Development.

On a Cloudy Day

A patchwork grey of fog and cloud
Blankets all my days,
And, in evening, I drift ’round
In alcoholic haze.
I’m told that I should mend my ways,
Or find an avenue of praise
To end these weary roundelays –
But I grow old, and I grow thin.
I’ll steep myself in sin, and gin.

Heaven growls in apathy,
Never raining, never dry.
A placid span of onyx sea
Mocks my likewise liquid eyes.
Between the years, and lies, and sighs,
And history I’ve dramatized,
I think I’ve finally realized
I’ll find a modicum of hope,
Or else I’ll find a length of rope.

Fair

I’m cursed to love you as deeply
As Dom Perrignon loved champagne,
But as sweet as the sound of that thought is,
I’m ruined, like silk in the rain.
We kiss, and I taste amaretto,
And as soon as the kissing is through,
I’m bitter, obsessed, and neurotic:
My thinking is burned up by you.
Wine and your absence transform me,
Like Jekyll I’m somebody new:
A violent birth – a transition –
And my soul has been hidden from view.
Each interaction’s a hand-grenade
A flash and a shock, then I wound,
Each quip I make has sniper’s aim,
Each glance results in a boom.
I’ve become the destroyer of cities,
For I love like a nuclear bomb –
A message, a warning, destruction:
My affection is like Viet Nam.
I linger, malignant, destructive,
’til I conquer what’s left of your heart,
Or I pull out my troops and head homeward.
Yes, I think that it’s time to depart.

©2013 by Tyler J. Yoder. All rights reserved

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About Ty DeLyte

Madame DeLyte has suffered a grave disappointment - YET AGAIN - and still believes that freedom, beauty, and truth are what's valuable, rather than vulgar cash. He'd add love to that list - but, well, what can he say about love?
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