Her Compulsive and Obsessive Desire

 

[Prima Stanza - La Benediction]

In poetry she sought something special to really treasure

searching for words to inspire and devour

measured by unquenchable expectations of desire

that craving, found only in selfish pleasure

derived from riding waves of growing anticipation

New vibrant words; words to ache with, to yearn for

words to feel secret affinity with, perhaps even more than this driving urge

while emotions scream with the thrill of contemptuous familiarity

unlike any clinical throbbing to be found, within a dictionary

 

And there within a poet’s passion, within the imagery of his words

lay her most perfect visualization and she thought

clearly this must have been written by an equal, of parallel sensuality

his new philosophy of true love captured, tamed and ridden

must be hers alone she feels, to feed upon at will

a priori benediction, perhaps in the hope of dissipation’s realisation

 

Words with which to map those dreams, when she is loved by him

X must therefore mark the G, the spot where she needs him to be

the place, where she - will fulfill her almost insatiate whim

to capture, train and ride, the wild beast of true love’s intensity

with all the power of her rush, and what it takes to make it swim

and to feel again a lifetime’s desires so wantonly, stir within!

 

[Quick Step - Her Dance]

Oh this sense of urgency

is like fumbling with a zipper

left hand not coordinated with the right

no time to completely… anything

entangled hair, the kicked off shoes

soft pillows calling out to be included

in this scramble, one primal urge dictates

in heightened senses, what it takes

to be falling into each other, in haste

clawing seduction, raw and wild passion on the move

all it takes; in notes or steps, to fill her night

and this one demanding, insatiable, groove…

 

[Frustration at His Lack of Response]

“Compulsive and obsessive desire?

Is that the reason why you won’t talk to me?

You have no reason to hate or fear

those things you cannot see

you seduced me with your words and then

ignored all sense of urgency that they set free!”

 

She fumbling with her zipped uncertainty

left angry, not coordinated with the right

frame of mind, or context, in her kicked off insecurity

 

“Why have you killed true love, its chance to be?

All my beliefs, my needs, my fantasies

my search for perfection led me to you

and now you won’t accept our destiny...

instead you analyze my feelings as being

a compulsive, obsessive lust played out dangerously

This thing that satisfies my every whim

every aching part that craves for you

to fill my dreams, yet you desert me?”

 

[Anguish and Justification]

“Instead you choose to drive me crazy, angry

and to treat me like some castoff refugee

like I’m expecting backstage passes from you, for free

even though your words cry out, beckoning to me

and make me feel as if, you know me so intimately!”

 

“In my heart this sense of urgency…

is far more than pure, driven lust…

I’m sorry that you don’t believe, that it will always last

You call it, compulsive and obsessive desire

but to me; it really is only, it really is just…

everything I’ve always wanted in the past

an urgent sense of true love, sought and found

now lost to a moment, of love and notes made

albeit, hastily reached for and read; perhaps too fast!”

 

[Anger and Frustration Prevail]

“Oh why has he killed my true love and its chance to be?

All my beliefs, my needs, my dreams, my fantasies

crash then burn and within the smoke, he fans the fire

and so compulsively, obsessively

he then writes new words upon my life, across my page

and just passionately, ignites yet another new desire; another rage!”

 

“Damn your words! Make them real, made just for me!

Why can’t you see? I yearn to burn, to melt within this ecstasy…

within your fire, not solely crave the urge, your words inspire!”

 

[Blame, Reviewing Her Justification and Coming Down]

“Compulsively, obsessively he just chooses to be, my love’s liar

one who lights great flames with which to take me higher!

Just leaving me raw, wildly aching for, real passion on the move

and all it takes for a lover to melt, within my fire

to quell my flames and to fulfill, all my desires!!!

Well so much for his words of carnal passion on the move!”

 

“Now, only another lover’s words will ever sooth

this desire that makes me cry out makes me move

I don’t care if these crumpled notes don’t approve

of the words I use to fill, my demanding and insatiable groove!”

 

In poetry she sought something special to really treasure…

 

_______________________

* Words by Rob Pearldiver *

Copyright © 2013 Art of the Diver with all rights reserved.